and throw away the key

8/16/2019 And Throw Away the Key

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/and-throw-away-the-key 1/91

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/5311703 .

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic UniverseRelationship: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov

Character: Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Susan Banner, Brian

Banner, Phil Coulson, Thor (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Vision (Marvel),

Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Bonita Juarez, Alphonso "Mack"

Mackenzie, Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz, Danielle Cage

Additional Tags: Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Future Fic, Established

Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Daddy Issues

Stats: Published: 2015-11-29 Updated: 2016-03-25 Chapters: 11/? Words:

39732

And Throw Away the Key

by mrstater

Summary

Five years after Ultron, Natasha and Bruce have hung up their superhero capes and aremaking a home together. When a new enemy brings the Avengers out of retirement, thereal threat to their future isn't villains with alien artifacts, but Bruce's own past. Natashaknows the key to controlling the Hulk lies hidden behind the doors of his childhood. Theproblem is how to find it, when it's locked away as securely as his father.

Notes

After a brief hiatus to participate in NaNoWriMo, I return with a new WIP! I got the ideato explore Bruce's past when I was still working on Sun's Getting Low, and I've been veryexcited to have a chance to properly plan, write, and now post it. Given the nature of Bruce's backstory, this will necessarily be a darker fic than SGL, though I'll try to balancethat with Bruce x Natasha established relationship goodness. As with SGL, I'll keep mytradition of posting new chapters on Sundays.

Many thanks to my fellow BruceNat author Magical_Destiny, without whoseencouragement and enthusiasm I probably wouldn't have attempted anything like this, and

especially to Vladnyrki, my beta reader and partner in crime in the Marvel fandom.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3915883/chapters/8766250

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Established%20Relationship

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Past%20Child%20Abuse


http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Daddy%20Issues



http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Alphonso%20%22Mack%22%20Mackenzie

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Jemma%20Simmons

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Leo%20Fitz


http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Danielle%20Cage


http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Brian%20Banner

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Phil%20Coulson


http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Thor%20(Marvel)


http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Steve%20Rogers


http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Vision%20(Marvel)

http://archiveofourown.org/

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5311703



http://archiveofourown.org/users/vladnyrki/pseuds/vladnyrki

http://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Destiny/pseuds/Magical_Destiny

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3915883/chapters/8766250

http://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Daddy%20Issues

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Past%20Child%20Abuse


http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Future%20Fic

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Post-Avengers:%20Age%20of%20Ultron%20(Movie)

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Danielle%20Cage

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Leo%20Fitz

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Jemma%20Simmons


http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Bonita%20Juarez

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Luke%20Cage

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Jessica%20Jones

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Vision%20(Marvel)

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Steve%20Rogers

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Thor%20(Marvel)

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Phil%20Coulson


http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Susan%20Banner

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Tony%20Stark

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Bruce%20Banner

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Natasha%20Romanov

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Bruce%20Banner*s*Natasha%20Romanov

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Marvel%20Cinematic%20Universe

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/The%20Avengers%20(Marvel%20Movies)

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/F*s*M

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/No%20Archive%20Warnings%20Apply

http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Mature


http://archiveofourown.org/



Prologue: General Delivery

2015

He was a sight for sore eyes, but Natasha certainly wasn't going to tell him that. There'd be noliving with him, and there barely was now. Not that he was currently living with the Avengers.

"You're making house calls now, Stark?" she said, standing in the doorway of the control room,where she found him at the central computer after Vision informed her he was in the Facility.



"Somebody called about a tiny security problem?" Tony said by way of reply. "And I meanliterally microscopic. As in, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids."

The somebody he referred to was her, after the news broke about the super-powered, but notsuper-sized, struggle at Pym Tech, in light of which Wilson's rooftop shenanigans suddenly madeperfect sense.

"I appreciate you getting here so quickly." Natasha stepped further into the dimly-lit room and

watched the lines of code reflected in his dark eyes. "Unlike the cable company."

She hadn't actually asked Stark to come. In fact she'd only as gotten as far as, "We had a security

breech," before he replied, "On it," and hung up on her.

"Giving people six-hour windows when I might show up…not really my style."

"I waited for you for at least six hours when I was your PA."

"Well, as Pepper has been known to say, I'm worth waiting for."

" Has Pepper been known to say that?"

Ignoring the question, Tony stared at the computer screen with a laser focus, fingers rattling acrossthe keyboard. Abruptly he stopped, leaned back in the swivel chair, and looked up at her.

"New Avengers Facility security protocols updated. You're welcome."

"Thanks. But couldn't you have done that remotely, rather than drive all the way upstate?"

"Romanoff, you woundme." He clasped a hand over the lapel of his sport coat. "Didn't it occur toyou that maybe I just thought all of you wanted to see my face? I haven't stopped by in months."

"We've seen your face a lot lately."

Tony had been on almost every news outlet in the world since Sokovia, defending Bruce'sinnocence in the destruction of Johannesburg. His expression shifted, as infinitesimally as the newkind of heroes and villains they were up against. She swallowed painfully. It wasn't just Bruce hewas talking about, but the Accords the World Security Council was proposing to keep poweredindividuals accountable.

"So how's retirement treating you?" Natasha asked. "Is it the lighting in here, or do you look waytanner on TV?"

He can't have been spending as much time in Malibu as he boasted about back when heannounced he was hanging up the cape, so to speak. Not that this was in the least surprising.

Scowling, Tony replied, "That makeup makes me look like an Oompa-Loompa, doesn't it? Buthey, at least I still don't look as stupid as Falcon while Ant-Man led him on a merry mini chase."

He leaned forward and typed again, swiveling the monitor so Natasha could see that he'd pulledup the security footage.

"I was on the other end of the comms," she said, unable to repress a smirk, "and giving Wilsonhell about it."

"I'd expect nothing less from you. Speaking of which." Tony paused the video and looked toNatasha again. "What would you think of being less?"



Natasha crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow.

"My dad and SHIELD tried to replicate Pym's shrinking tech back in the '80s," Tony explained."I'm sure it's nothing I couldn't crack."

"Are you asking me if I want a shrinking suit?"

" Itsy Bitsy Spider has a less harmful ring to it than Black Widow, don't you think?"

"Harmless isn't exactly what you want to go for in my line of work."

"Your line of work doesn't exactly have a great reputation right now." The springs of the chairsqueaked as Tony stood.

Not an unfair point. Natasha conceded it with a shrug.

"All I'm saying is," he went on, "maybe with the Sokovia Accords we need to change our publicimage. That, and if Hydra wants to get their tentacles on shrinking tech, they're not going to let aburglar stop them."

"So you want to develop more for them to possibly get their tentacles on?"

Tony hmphed and folded his arms cross his chest.

"Come on, Tony, you've come out in full support of the Accords. You're not honestly dickingaround with new tech, are you?"

" Honestly," he ground out, "I can hardly walk past the lab, let alone go in it."

He'd been vulnerable with her before, but this time she didn't have it in her to be gentle with his

feelings. Maybe it was because she'd kept hers under such careful restraint since the day Capcaught her brooding, that seeing Tony wearing his heart on his sleeve was too much.

"Is that why you're here?" she snapped. "Because being around me might help you feel closer tohim?"

"Right, when your little push him down a cistern and force him to transform stunt is part of thereason he ran off?" Tony reached into the inner pocket of his sport coat and pulled out a stack of envelopes. "I came to show you these." He thrust them at her as he stepped around her to shut thecontrol room door. "Although maybe that was a mistake."

For a moment, Natasha's carefully honed observation skills eluded her as she stared down at lettersin her hands, the familiar neat, precise handwriting that spelled out Bruce Banner .

"He'll send you a postcard ," Nick Fury's voice resonated in her head, and she looked up at Tonyas he stepped back into her line of sight. Bruce wrote to him?

Her brain kicked into gear before she asked the stupid question aloud. Bruce was the addressee.Her heart resumed beating, only to stop again when she read the sender's name:

Brian Banner, Inmate #968121

Lima State Hospital

3200 North West Street

Lima, OH 45801



It was postmarked just two days ago. She flicked through the stack of envelopes, all addressed toBruce at the Avengers Tower, all from his father, scanning the dates.

"When did these start-?"

"After Johannesburg. So, I can only assume Bruce's dear old dad watched the news in thecriminally psych ward and decided to write and, I don't know? Congratulate him on continuing

the family legacy?"

"What do you know about Brian Banner?"

"Not a damn thing, until these started arriving. Then I googled. All the best scientists have daddyissues?"

Tony's answer came as a relief, though Natasha hated herself a little bit for being jealous of thealternative. Opening up to someone, her or not, would do Bruce a world of good.

"Some more than others," she replied.

"No wonder he wasn't interested in playing therapist for me."

Natasha watched her thumb slide over the sharp edge of the unopened envelope. "I'm surprisedyou didn't read them," she said.

"This, from the spy," Tony retorted, then, "Do you think we should?"

"No."

"But what if there's something in there that might help us find him?"

"There won't be. As far as I know, Bruce has had no contact with his father since he went toprison. I'm not about to break his trust any further by violating his privacy."

It was bad enough that everything she knew about Bruce's family history had come from hisSHIELD files, and not from him, which she regretted. His trust was such a tenuous thing thatshe'd never wanted to press her luck by asking him for more than he was willing to offer, althoughshe'd suspected strongly that knowing more about it would give her a better idea into help himwith his control.

Tony let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. But if we're not going to read them, what are we going to do

with them? I can't keep them, because one of these days my curiosity will get the better of me, andit won't be my dicking around with tech that violates the Accords."

"Have the rest of Bruce's mail forwarded here-"

"But I read his Scientific American!"

"-and I'll keep them all. Bruce can decide what he wants to do with them…when he comes back."

Tony looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Until the prodigal son returns."



You've Got Mail

Chapter Notes

Thank you all for your reception of the first installment last week! Bruce is actually inthis one, and it inspired my alternate title for this fic, "Domestic Dumb-Dumbs with

Daddy Issues." Although it's heavy on the DDD part and not so much on the DI. Fornow. ;) As always, much thanks to my beta-reader, vladnyrki.

Enjoy!

November, 2020

The drive home from campus was short enough that the car had only just warmed up by the timeBruce pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window. Shivering at the sudden blast of crisp,cold air, he reached out to open the mailbox, leaning lightly into the horn in his haste, the honk

shattering the silence of the suburban dusk and briefly distracting him from the contents of themailbox. Or rather, the lack thereof.

He sat back in the seat, gloved hands grasping the steering wheel as he breathed his heart back toits resting tempo, puffs of steam clouding in the air. There were plenty of reasons for the mailboxto be empty: the postman might be late, or Natasha might've gotten it already. He didn't need toget all Charlie Brown about it. Yet.

Especially when the letter they were waiting for might bring more disappointment than no mail atall.

Rolling the window back up again, he pulled the car into the long driveway, scarcely believing ashe gazed up through the trees, mostly bare now except for a handful of tenacious golden leavesquivering in the autumn wind as they clung to their branches, that the grey brick split-level housetucked into the wooded hillside belonged to him. Well-to him and Natasha. The garage door liftedto reveal her car parked in the empty space.

Bruce parked next to it, hurried to the door, but had to dart back again for his leather laptop bag

forgotten in the front passenger seat. In the mud room, the aroma of the chicken tikka masala he'dstarted in the slow cooker that morning before classes greeted him from the adjoining kitchen.

"Tasha, I'm home!" he called out, less Desi Arnaz than Dick van Dyke as he stumbled in theprocess of toeing off his shoes, though in fact he and Natasha had attended their neighborhoodHalloween block party as the I Love Lucy stars.

"Welcome home, Dr. Banner," intoned a British-accented baritone from an overhead speaker."Ms. Romanoff is down in the gym. Shall I let her know you've arrived?"

Tony's housewarming gift to them had been-in his words-a domestic. In true Tony fashion, he'd

given them a number of choices for their AI butler's personality: Alfred from Batman, Carsonfrom Downton Abbey, Cogsworth from Beauty and the Beast in case certain hopes panned outand the house one day heard the patter of little Hulk or Widow feet (though hopefully not eight inthe case of the latter), and to be an equal opportunity employer, the creepy Mrs. Danvers from Rebecca.



"Thanks, JEEVES," Bruce replied, unwinding his scarf and hanging it up with his overcoat, "justput her on intercom."

"Very good, sir."

As he padded in his sock feet into the kitchen, Natasha's voice came over the speakers. "Hey, BigGuy," she panted. "Just finishing up a run. Give me ten?"

"Take your time," he replied around a mouthful of almonds he grabbed from the pantry when hewent for the basmati rice.

Natasha didn't normally work out this time of day; she was a hit the ground running type-literally.When she was stressed out, she could be found in the gym at random.

He swallowed, the nuts sticking in his throat, and tried-unsuccessfully-not to glance at the granitebar top as he turned to take the rice to the counter.

A neat stack of envelopes lay on it.

If Natasha had brought the mail in and then needed to run, it could only mean…

Swallowing again, Bruce deliberately looked away from the bar, rolled up his sleeves, and got onwith his dinner prep.

He stood at the sink rinsing the rice, back to the doorway, but he saw her reflection in the windowoverlooking Cayuga Lake even though she crept up without a sound.

"Good run?" He set the bowl in the sink and wiped his hands on a dishtowel as he faced her, eventhough they weren't wet.

"Yeah, not bad," Natasha replied, in a breathless way that told him the run wasn't really of theutmost concern at the moment.

Nodding, Bruce went to her.

"I'm gross," she warned as his hand skimmed her hip.

He looked her over, in her black sports bra and form-fitting capris, face flushed and pulled-back hair darkened at the roots from her sweat.

"Sweetheart, if this is post-workout gross, there's no hope for the rest of us."

He slid his hand into the slick small of her back to pull her hips snug against his, and pressed hislips to hers. Natasha made a soft sighing sound and tangled her fingers in his hair. This wasn't herusual welcome home kiss. She opened to him, clung to him, and Bruce had a sense that she wasseeking reassurance. Or maybe he was projecting. He splayed his fingers across her bared midriff,sliding them between the notches of her ribcage and spine, loving how perfectly their bodiesseemed to fit together.

Even after the kiss ended Natasha didn't withdraw, lingered in the circle of his arms, looking up at

him. Her fingers did leave his hair, to trail along his jawline, and he pressed his cheek into hertouch.

"You're going back to this, then, huh?"

Bruce's brows pulled together as he didn't at first know what she was talking about, then he heard



"Should I…? Do you want to…?"

"Open it."

Natasha faced him now, leaning back against the counter, arms flexed as she gripped the edgeswith white-knuckled hands.

Bruce ripped it open messily, tearing part of the letter itself. The envelope fluttered to the stone tile

floor as he drew out the single-page typed letter and unfolded it. Before he read, he looked up atNatasha, whose eyes were riveted to the backside of the stationery, and heaved out a tremulousbreath.

" Dear Dr. Banner and Ms. Romanoff,

It is my pleasure to inform you that your application for adoption in the State of New York has

been-"

All at once the meaning of the syllables registered in his brain, and he didn't even have to readfurther.

Pleasure to inform you.

"Accepted!" He looked up at Natasha. "Accepted, they accepted us!"

"Yeah, to begin the home study."

Bruce crossed the few feet of kitchen to her and wrapped his arms around her again, brushing hislips across her forehead before he drew her against him in a tight hug. "Honestly I never thoughtwe'd make it this far."

"That's not the impression you gave when you agreed to buy this five bedroom house in thesuburbs with me," Natasha replied, dryly. With a squeeze of his waist she tucked her head beneathhis chin and added, quieter, "Neither did I."

Bruce knew she didn't mean she'd doubted because of him any more than he'd doubted because of her. On paper, neither of them looked fit to parent at all, never mind not living up to someambiguous ideal. When they agreed to finally take the plunge and apply to adopt, they'd promisedeach other that when those moments of doubt inevitably came, they would never be talking aboutthe other. Though they also promised they would do their best to keep those moments to aminimum, to be positive and have hope, to believe in themselves as they believed in each other.

Several minutes passed in silence as they hugged, swaying slightly, in the middle of the kitchen,but finally, his happiness bubbled out.

"They accepted us!"

Natasha emerged from the bathroom to find Bruce reading in bed, as she did every night. Heappeared totally engrossed by his book-an actual book, from the campus library, no less-rubbinghis fingers across his beard in an absent gesture, not looking up at her even when she untied thebelt of her robe and shrugged it off her shoulders. She'd be a little miffed if she were seriously

trying to seduce him, but she was used to his scientist's focus making him a tough nut to crack.Plus, he more than made up for it by applying that same concentration to her, once she finally didcapture his attention.

Tonight she had a pretty good idea that it wasn't the book that absorbed him. Her first clue was



The creases at the corners of his eyes deepened with his wry grin. "Nothing says family atChristmastime like hearing how your nephew almost helped bring about the end of Asgard."

"Sounds like one of those holiday movies packed with celebrities."

" Meet the Banners." Bruce's smile faded. "Honestly, though. All Aunt Susan's seen of me for thepast fifteen years is footage of the Other Guy terrorizing Harlem, Johannesburg…Perpetuating thefamily's cycle of violence."

His voice tightened around the words. Beneath her palm, Natasha felt the tendons of his hand flex.She stroked her fingers over it, working them into the valleys between his knuckles, and heexhaled, long and slow.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to get morose."

"It's okay."

Natasha could count on one hand the number of times he'd talked about his father's abuse, so thatshe considered even an oblique reference like that a big step in opening up. She was intrigued by

the way he'd described it as a family cycle. Did it go back further than Brian Banner?

"Obviously your aunt's not worried about the Other Guy rampaging through Dayton. Or younever know, maybe she hates Dayton and hopes he will." That coaxed the smile back, albeit onlyfaintly. She snuggled closer to him, slipping her knee between his legs, and he drew her handagainst his chest, his skin warm and the wiry hairs tickling. "She asked you, Bruce."

"Do you really think it could be fun?" His voice remained tight, although now she thought withrestrained hopefulness. It was the same cautious tone she'd heard often when they first began todiscuss adoption. "You wouldn't mind going to Aunt Susan's for Christmas? Only it's our first

year in the new place…She'd understand if we want to celebrate at home."

As he looked into her eyes, the slightly dopey grin that always crossed on his face whenever hespoke about their home appeared. Natasha felt herself mirroring the expression, as she always didwhenever he got sentimental about their life together. She tried not to let it distract her from thefact that he was making excuses to withdraw.

"We could always invite her here," she suggested.

Bruce's brow furrowed as he considered this. "She's over seventy…I don't think she travels muchthese days."

"Then let's go to her place. I want to meet her, and we'll have other first Christmases before long."

His fingers tightened around hers. "God, I hope so."

"I've never had a guy take me to meet his family, you know," Natasha said, lowering her voiceand sliding her foot over the back of his calf. "I'm starting to worry maybe I'm not that kind of girlyou bring home to meet your aunt."

"Don't ever think that."

She'd been joking, but the sincerity of Bruce's reply made her heart clench. He brought her handup to his lips, dropping kisses over her knuckles.

"You are," he murmured, "you definitely are."



There was no response Natasha could make other than to kiss him, which she did, love surgingthrough her. Bruce's soft lips yielded to her at first, then he wrapped both arms around her,matching her passion even though they'd spent a long time doing this earlier. She wasn't sure howlong this kiss lasted, and it didn't lead to more like the other, but when it did end, trailing away intolight kisses on cheeks and chins and shoulders as they lay holding each other, she felt the bone-deep contentment of knowing that wherever she was, in this house, or in his aunt's in Ohio or inthe Avengers Tower or any other place on earth, as long as she was here, she was home.

She felt the prickle of his beard in the crook of her neck, the rumble of his voice in her chest as hespoke.

"I guess if we want to start a family, the family we have would be a good place to start."

Natasha replied, "Spoken like a true genius."



Meet the Banners

Chapter Notes

FYI, my fancast for the role of Bruce's Aunt Susan is Susan Sarandon. :)

A/N: I continue to be so grateful for your kind and supportive words about this story! This

week, I'm very excited to introduce you to Aunt Susan, who is a character from the comics, but

this is my own take on her. My fancast for the role is Susan Sarandon. Hope you enjoy this first

glimpse into Bruce's childhood, and that you'll let me know what you think! Thanks, as

always, to my beta malintzin. (And if you're an Agents of SHIELD fan, especially a Phil

Coulson fan, check out our latest co-authored endeavor, What's Missing Is What Hurts the

Most . We have big plans for the winter hiatus!)

2. Meet the Banners

"Oh my God, Bruce!" said Aunt Susan from the doorstep of her red brick Foursquare house as heand Natasha came up the front walk, the cab that brought them from the airport sloshing throughpuddles of melted snow as it pulled away from the curb.

"Aunt Susan." He glanced back over his shoulder as the wheels of the suitcase he was pullingcaught on an uneven part of the sidewalk. Natasha gave him a small reassuring smile before he

proceeded toward his aunt, pace quickening, along with his pulse. "I feel the same way. It'sincredible to see you."

Why hadn't he sooner? He let go of the suitcase as she stepped down to the bottom of the porch,arms extended. Instead of hug him, however, she touched his face, stroking his beard, and heunderstood the reason for her look of round-eyed amazement.

"You're so grey."

Bruce gaped at her. Behind him, Natasha snorted.

"And you're…not." He tugged at his shaggy hair in back as he took in Aunt Susan's, as vivid redat seventy as it had been in her fifties. God, he was almost the age she'd been the last time he sawher…Older than she'd been when he lived with her…

Her hand slid down from his cheek to rest on his shoulder, pulling him in for the hug he'dexpected before. He felt her smooth cheek against his, and though she was going to kiss him, butagain she surprised him by murmuring close to his ear:

"Bruce, dear, that's the wonder of a good hairstylist. You scientists aren't the only ones working todefy the ravages of time, you know. You keep your super serums. I'll stick to my salon products."

"Amen," said Natasha.

Susan pressed her lips to his cheek, then drew back, sidestepping him. She put on her glasses,which dangled from a chain around her neck; the tendency to lose glasses was a genetic



predisposition.

"So this is the erstwhile Black Widow."

Struggling to get the suitcase up the steps and avoid the icy patches at the edges, Bruce winced-he'd almost forgotten how blunt his aunt was-and shot Natasha a look of apology. But of courseshe looked as unruffled as always, her pursed lips quirking upward at once side.

" Erstwhile. I like that. Most people go with infamous."

"It's the right word for a retired Avenger, isn't it?"

"Does that make Bruce the Erstwhile Hulk now?" Natasha asked, apparently deciding toacknowledge the elephant in the front yard right away and get it over with.

Aunt Susan laughed and looked back at Bruce. "Oh, I like her." But when she faced Natashaagain, her smile fell as she eyed her extended hand. "I was going to hug you, but if that's toopresumptuous, we can shake hands instead."

"Definitely not too presumptuous," said Natasha, lowering her hand and returning the heartyembrace.

"Welcome, Natasha."

Bruce's own self-consciousness dissipated as she met his eye over Susan's shoulder and he sawhow relieved and pleased she looked to have his Aunt's approval right off the bat. She'd neveradmit it, but he knew she'd been nervous about this, despite his best efforts to reassure her shedidn't need to be. Certainly he empathized with self-doubt.

"Why are we all standing around out here in the cold?" Susan released Natasha and pulled heroversized cardigan knitted in a southwestern pattern tighter around herself.

"It's not that bad," Bruce said. "We're used to New York."

"And Russia," Natasha added.

Looking distinctly unimpressed, Susan said, "Well I'm going to go in and make some tea andcinnamon toast."

She squeezed past Bruce and the suitcase in the narrow hall to go to the kitchen, and Natashahung back to say quietly, "That went well."

Nodding, he scratched his beard. "Maybe I should've shaved and gotten a haircut."

"Don't you dare."

With that admonishment, Natasha went ahead to the kitchen while Bruce wrangled their luggageup the two flights of stairs to his childhood bedroom. The day before, Susan had actually calledhim, because there wasn't time to send a letter, to ask if he'd feel more comfortable in his old roomthan in the guest room where he'd stayed with Betty the last time he'd been here. Flushing andfumbling for words, Bruce agreed his bedroom was a better option, although as he stepped inside

and found it exactly as he'd left it when he moved to Desert State for undergrad, he started tosecond-guess that decision. The Einstein poster over the desk wasn't exactly the view you wantedfrom the bed you were sharing with your girlfriend. He took it down, but as he rolled it up, itoccurred to him that the original Star Wars trilogy posters over the bed weren't much better.



Before he went on an undecorating frenzy, he went downstairs. Anyway, it wasn't like Natashadidn't already know he was a nerd…geek…dork. She'd used them all.

The aroma of cinnamon sugar wafted to him before he reached the kitchen, as did Aunt Susan'svoice:

"...used to make this for Bruce, when he first came to live with me."

She stood at the marbled yellow laminate counter, spreading butter creamed together withcinnamon and sugar-and the secret ingredient, vanilla-over slices of white bread, while Natashaleaned against the cupboards, cradling a teacup in both hands.

"It's good comfort food," she said, glancing at him as he came through the door. "Bruce makes itfor us fairly often."

He'd started that back when they were at Avengers Tower, following Code Greens.

"I didn't know how to make much else," Susan went on without looking his way, as though shedidn't know he was there. "I think that was why my marriage ended, honestly. I just couldn't be

bothered to cook, after I taught five hours of piano lessons."

Picking up the baking sheet, she turned to carry it to the oven, the soles of her slippers scuffingover the tile, and finally noticed Bruce. "So glad you decided to join us. What were you doing,thumping around up there? Thank you, dear." The last was directed at Natasha, who'd opened theoven door.

She'd probably heard him stumble when he hopped down from the chair he'd stood on to takedown the Einstein poster.

"Oh, you know," he replied, avoiding making eye contact with either of them as he shuffled to thetable and pulled out a chair. "Jumping on the bed for old time's sake."

"You wild child," Natasha said, seating herself kitty-corner from him, rubbing her foot against hisbeneath the table.

Aunt Susan set the timer for the toast, saw him at the table, and let out an abrupt burst of laughterthat made Natasha's eyebrows go up.

"I'll never forget one night," Susan said, shuffling to the stove, where she picked up the kettle andfilled one of the teacups on the counter beside it. "Bruce was sitting right where he is now."

"On top of a couple of telephone books, probably," he interjected, and she nodded, bringing thetwo cups to the table. She placed the still brewing one in front of his seat while he hopped up todraw out her chair across from Natasha.

"He was a gentlemen back then, too." She patted his hand, looking up at him with her warm hazeleyes that made him feel loved after he'd loved the only person in the world he'd thought everwould. "And he was the cutest little thing, with that mop of dark hair and those big brown eyes.But so quiet. I'd never met a quieter child, though of course that was to be expected after whathe'd been through."

The back of Bruce's neck prickled, and he reached up to rub it, feeling the snarl in his mind as analmost tangible rumble. He wasn't used to making even oblique references to his childhood, andhis aunt's almost casual way of mentioning it made the Other Guy stir. Bruce concentrated on hisslow deep breaths through his nostrils, on Natasha's foot resting against his shin.



Aunt Susan sipped her tea, then continued her story, "One night he piped up and said, ' Aunt

Susan, I like cinnamon toast, but we shouldn't eat it all the time. It's not very healthy, and it gives

me a tummy ache.' First opinion he offered. So, we learned to cook. Together."

"That's worked out well for me, too," said Natasha. "He makes killer chicken tikka masala in thecrock pot."

The oven timer went off. Susan set down her teacup, but Bruce touched her shoulder as he pushed

his chair back from the table.

"Don't get up, I've got it."

She smiled up at him, but he saw the shrewdness in her gaze, too, reading his mood as she had somany times over the years.

"How did you two meet?" she asked over the creak of the oven door as he opened it. "Avengersmatchmaking service?"

Turning around with the pan of toast, Bruce caught Natasha's eye as she smirked around the rim

of her teacup. As he looked at her, whatever mood Aunt Susan saw, or thought she saw, retreated.

Natasha swallowed and said, "It's a desperately romantic story."

"We were in Kolkata," he added.

"Bruce was caring for the sick."

"I saw Natasha across a shabby room. She had on a burgundy blouse a soft flowing turquoiseskirt. And a red shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Right?"

Her eyebrows twitched upward, as if she were surprised with the level of detail he remembered.She waited until he'd moved to set the baking sheet on a trivet, then said, "He pretended he wasgoing to Hulk out."

Bruce opened the cupboard above and took out a plate to arrange the toast on. "And she pulled agun on me."

When he returned to the table with the cinnamon toast, Aunt Susan reached for a slice and said,"Believe it or not, that wouldn't be the strangest love story I've ever heard."

After their tea and toast, Bruce led Natasha through Susan's house, showing her around. It was anolder home, built in the 1920s, so the hallways were narrow and the rooms small. They were alsopacked: a concert grand piano dominated the front living room, flanked by an upright for theyounger students' lessons, and every spare inch of wall was covered with shelves to accommodateher library and music collection. That, combined with nothing having been updated in decades-itwas exactly as it had been when he lived here-gave the whole place a cluttered feel, even though itwas in fact very organized. Or maybe Natasha was just used to the spacious minimalism of theTower and now their home in Ithaca.

Nevertheless, though not to her personal taste, she liked the house. It reflected its owner; Susan

Banner had a put together yet still slightly frazzled demeanor, not unlike her nephew: two highlyintelligent people whose madness did have a method. How much of that did Bruce come byhonestly, and how much had he learned living here during his formative years?

As Natasha followed him up the paneled staircase, where three bedrooms, a study, and a



bathroom branched off the hall, frazzled didn't describe him accurately at all. Hands clasped,shoulders hunched, he looked nothing so much as contained . She'd observed him in this statemany times over the years, as if he were making himself smaller in uncomfortable situations, whenhe felt the Big Guy close to the surface. He didn't get this way often anymore, and not recently.Were the memories of this house too much for him?

"This is where we'll be sleeping," he interrupted her musing, pushing open one of the oak doorsopen. "My old bedroom."

"I could've guessed," she replied as he stepped aside for her to pass through. "It's like a shrine toeighties nerdom."

"I'm just trying not to think about the fact that you were barely born at the time."

Natasha thought about making a face at him, but couldn't tear her gaze from her first properglimpse into Bruce's mysterious youth. Although none of it was actually unexpected at all, least of all the Star Wars trilogy posters hanging over the bed on the far wall. Spying what appeared to beanother poster rolled up on the desk, she went over and unfurled it, snorting at the enlarged black and white photo.

"Is this what all that bumping around up here was about?"

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't think you'd appreciate Einstein sticking his tongue outat you while you're in bed."

"Good call. I'll take Han Solo and metal bikini Leia, though." Natasha rolled the poster back up,laying it on the desk beside a dusty Macintosh Plus. "Hey, tech that's ancient, yet still youngerthan Steve. Does this thing still run?"

She felt for the power switch, her question answered by the beep.

"I read this article once about a guy who got an old Mac on the Internet," she said. "We shouldtotally try it."

"And you call me a nerd." Joining her at the desk, Bruce picked up the boxy mouse, connected tothe computer with a cord. "I saved up my allowance and did so many odd jobs to save up for this.Got a paper route, walked neighbors' dogs, shoveled driveways, washed test tubes in the schoollab, delivered pizzas, once I could drive… I wrote all my high school papers on here."

"Award-winning work," Natasha said, tapping the diploma with the Valedictorian seal, a faded

tassel with a tarnished '87 and his many silk cords hanging from the edge. She stepped away fromthe desk to look at the ribbon and medal-covered bulletin board over the dresser, which served asa trophy case. She picked up one of the gold-painted plastic cups and read the engraving on thefaux marble base: 38thOhio State Science Day, Senior Division, 1st Place.

"I should have put all this stuff away," Bruce said as he come to stand behind her. "It's justcollecting dust."

She glanced at him over shoulder. "And deprive me of the chance to be impressed with yourgenius?"

Chuckling, he ducked his head. "Yeah, I'm sure you're really impressed."

"Thor may be proud of his Nobel-winner girlfriend, but I have the king of the science fairs. If theadoption goes through, we'll have to make a place in the house for all the awards you'll help themwin."



She replaced the trophy and turned to face Bruce fully. He had a real smile now, that hopeful lightmaking his eyes warm.

"Did the other kids even try?" she asked. "Or did they just throw up their hands and give upknowing Bruce Banner would enter and sweep all the awards?"

"Hey, I had a pretty heated rivalry with Lisa Chen. Note the years I won second. Although I really

should've had first in at regionals in '86. Her math was wrong."

Natasha did the math for how long he'd been hanging onto that-thirty-four years ."Did you sayanything?"

"I didn't want to be that guy who made the judges look stupid." Bruce gave a diffident shrug."And her project was really good. It was a-"

"Sorry for not being a member of your Lisa Chen fanclub," Natasha interrupted, taking a loweringherself to sit at the edge of the bed. "What was your coolest one?"

"Well…I built a fusion reactor in the basement."

"Fusion. As in nuclear?"

"Uh-huh. Aunt Susan may have it, if you want to see. You probably noticed she keeps a lot of stuff around."

"All I want for Christmas is nukes," Natasha joked, but Bruce didn't appear to have heard her ashe looked around the room.

"It seems so small," he mused, more to himself than to her.

Well-that confirmed what she'd read into his body language.

"They say that's how it is when you revisit your childhood home as an adult," he went on beforeshe could decide whether to do any digging yet. "Guess I just didn't notice last time. Or maybe Idid. That was so long ago…And I didn't sleep here."

His gaze met hers, eyes widening slightly, as though he'd just walked into the room and wassurprised to find her there. She patted the mattress beside her, and he moved toward her, eyeing itcritically.

"Will the bed be too small for us? It's only a full size."

Natasha reached for his hand. "We'll just have to stay close," she said, and pulled him with heronto the bed.



Getting to Know You

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Descending the narrow stairs into Aunt Susan's basement the next morning, Bruce found himself

holding his breath.

As a kid, he'd been afraid of basements-as many kids were. Damp and dark, with their unfinishedwalls exposing plumbing and wiring, the only floor the cold, concrete slab of the house'sfoundation, filled mainly with unwanted or unused items strewn haphazardly about, collectingcobwebs, which anything could be hiding behind, or under-roaches, rodents… If his mother askedhim to take a load out of the dryer he'd brave it for her, but the worst punishment his father coulddevise was cleaning out the basement. Mostly because he knew Bruce was afraid, and mockedhim for it. There are no monsters more terrifying than the one you carry inside you. Bruce hadn'tunderstood that then, of course, but now…

Now his fingers tightened around the stair rail, which rocked slightly beneath his weight. It wasn'tanchored tightly enough into the wall, screws pulling free of the sheet rock. He relaxed his fingers,let out his breath, made a mental note to take a look at that later. It wouldn't do for Aunt Susan tocome down here to do laundry and have it fall off, or worse, for her to have a fall. She wasseventy years old.

And she was watching him from the bottom of the stairs.

He came the rest of the way down and pretended to have been looking around at the clutter indismay, stacks of boxes and piles of bags. It wasn't quite like an episode of Hoarders, but he

couldn't immediately spot the washer and dryer, either.

"The real reason why you invited us for Christmas is suddenly clear," he said. "You wanted me tohelp you clean out your basement."

"I'll pay your going rate. What was it again? Grossly in violation of child labor laws, I'm sure. Atleast that's how my students look at me when I ask if they'd like to earn a little extra money doinga few odd jobs for me."

"It's too bad Natasha got tied up with a work call. She'd love a little extra pocket money to supporther leather jacket and boot habit."

Susan hmmed. "I never was a leather jacket kind of girl, but that one she had on yesterday mademe wish I had been. Guess I'm too old now not to look like I'm trying too hard. But are you tellingme consulting for the government doesn't keep a woman fashionably dressed and buy a house inIthaca?"

Honestly, how did Tony live as a billionaire? Bruce felt self-conscious enough with his auntremarking on his single piece of real estate. It was less mortifying that they'd bought it on a dualincome, he supposed.

"Do you still keep the Christmas decorations over there?" He asked, squeezing himself betweenstacks of boxes, cutting a path to the far corner of the basement.

"So after Natasha pulled the gun on you, how long was it till you started dating?"

Aunt Susan did that sometimes: ask questions of her own instead of answering other people's.



Bruce never was sure if she hadn't heard him, or if she chose not to answer questions they couldfigure out for themselves. It might've been the result of forty years of teaching music lessons.

She didn't wait for an answer, but elaborated, "Only I thought the whole reason you ended it withBetty was because your…alter ego…complicated relationships. Don't get me wrong." She put onthe glasses dangling from the chain around her neck, and her hazel eyes found his across thebasement, where he'd paused in the middle of the narrow path between boxes. "The last thing Iwant is for you to go through life all alone. I've never thought you should. Nothing makes me

happier than to know you're not, that you're teaching and living a normal life again. I'm justcurious. What's different now?"

"Well the common denominator in both relationships is me, so…Clearly I'm different."

Bruce tried to huff out a laugh, but it caught in his throat. He didn't want to talk about Betty. He'dresolved all of that-as much as it could be. At the same time he understood that Susan would becurious, confused even, about his situation and how it accommodated the life he'd lost with Betty.When he'd brought Betty home in college, Susan treated her like family. He supposed that waswhy the question unsettled him. He'd been sure she would be just as welcoming to Natasha-and

she had been, so far. It just hadn't occurred to him she might need closure with regard to his lovelife.

Picking at the edge of a strip of tape on a battered box, he began, "After I ran off from her twiceand cut off all communication, Betty was done with my bullshit."

" Hmm. Doesn't sound like her."

With a sigh, Bruce conceded the point. "She would've given up everything for me, but I didn'twant that for her. I didn't want her to miss her window, waiting for something that might neverhappen."

"What is that something, exactly? Control? You can make the transformation happen now, can'tyou? Although other people can make you change, too? Like the girl with the mind controlpowers in Johannesburg?"

"Yes…"

Bruce had tried to put the destruction of Johannesburg behind him as best he could, to forgivehimself for not being able to stay in control, but hadn't succeeded entirely. Although they'd beenwriting to each other for years, they'd avoided this topic. It was weird hearing his aunt talk about itdispassionately, to know she'd watched the news and seen the rampage…the carnage. His

stomach churned with shame and guilt, but he forced himself to face her, not to tuck tail and run.

"It's a little like…unleashing a mad dog. Calling him back's the hard part. But Natasha came upwith a way to do it. She's been through a lot herself."

"She seems like an old soul," Susan said, winding her way through the maze of boxes towardhim. "And she's a soulmate?"

Bruce managed to avoid an audible sigh of relief that Susan was moving on from the subject of Betty. Natasha he could happily talk about to her heart's content.

"It was a really intimate experience," he said, "but by the time we figured out what we felt foreach other was more than friendship, we'd missed our window. Or we thought we had." He letout a shuddering exhale, amended. " I thought we had."

Having peeled the tape back, the box flaps sprang open, and for a moment Bruce was distracted



by what was inside. Immediately, the scent of newspaper filled his nostrils, taking him back notonly to the all but bygone era of reading the news in print form, but to Christmases past,unwrapping and wrapping the breakable Christmas decorations in these same sheets of The

Dayton Daily News, featuring headlines about local government elections in the 70s, and Peanuts

strips from before it was in reruns, an ad for sales at Rike's and the department store's annualChristmas parade and famous animated window displays; it was a Macy's now.

"After Johannesburg," Bruce went on, "Natasha still wasn't afraid of me. Or of having a life with

me. It took a little longer for me not to be. And then, um, I was in space."

"I've always believed long-distance relationships are difficult enough without light yearsinvolved."

"Just ask Thor and Dr. Foster."

Was it the basement lighting? The trick of so much red in the box of Christmas decorations? Orwas Susan flushing?

"Oh, I could never speak coherently to Thor." She glanced away, and giggled .

Accustomed as Bruce was to the legion of women who got swoony over Thor-and men; he'd felta little weak-kneed in the God of Thunder's presence himself, though of course he'd never admit itto Tony-he never imagined Aunt Susan joining their ranks.

"So…" He scratched his chin. "To answer your question…"

"Did I ask a question?"

"Natasha and I have been together, officially, for a little over two years."

"Are you planning to get married?"

"We…"

Just when he'd started to feel comfortable with this conversation-or at least to not feel completelynot comfortable with it-Susan put him off balance again. She must assume since he'd planned tomarry Betty, he still wanted that. It had never been a part of the conversation with Natasha. Notfor lack of commitment, just…it didn't seem necessary. Put like that, though, it sounded lame.

"We've started the adoption process."

They hadn't discussed whether or not they'd tell Susan that-they hadn't discussed a lot of things, itseemed-and Bruce blurted it out without thinking. Despite her not being an old-fashioned or judgmental person, he wasn't sure how she'd feel about this, since she had asked about marriage.

But her face lit up like a Christmas tree, as she dropped the ornament she'd been unwrapping andseized his hand over the box between them. "Oh, Bruce, that's wonderful. When you used tobabysit Jennifer, I always thought what a good father you'd make."

The back of his neck prickled, and with his free hand he reached back to pull at the shaggy hairthat curled over his collar.

"It's not a sure thing," he said. "We've got a long way to go, but our application was accepted.We're having our home study after the New Year."

"Domestic adoption, then?"



"Initially we thought we'd try international. Russia or India since those have personal significancefor us, but neither government has lifted its sanctions. And we decided that there are lots of orphans of the Battle of New York and the Infinity Wars. It would be our way of doing our part torebuild."

Susan gave him a wry smile. "Because saving the world wasn't enough?"

At the sound of heavy objects thumping downstairs, Natasha glanced at the digital clock on thebedside table. Way past time to wrap up her call.

"Okay, Dana," she said to the agent at the other end of the line. "When I talk to him, I'll be back intouch. No guarantees on time, though. It's Christmas."

As she rounded the bend of the staircase, tucking her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, shesaw Bruce in the entryway, wearing his coat and standing on one foot, balancing himself with ahand pressed against the wall as he tugged on an old snow boot with the other.

"Get all the decorations lugged up from the basement?" she asked.

"In the den and ready to deck the halls," he replied, switching hands and legs to pull on the otherboot.

"Sorry I couldn't help."

"I know how you like to shirk. Everything okay with work?"

"Are we in a Dr. Seuss book?"

"So far the Other Guy's never tried to steal Christmas, but he might, if he had the chance." Bruce'swords were joking, but his dark eyes remained serious; she hadn't answered his question.

With a glance down the hall, where sounds of Aunt Susan bumping around were followed by themuffled strains of an old Christmas album-Bing or Sinatra or Andy Williams, Natasha couldn't tellwhich-she stepped closer to Bruce and lowered her voice.

"FBI's had an eye on a crime ring they want to hand off to SHIELD. They want me to callCoulson."

She followed the roll of his Adam's apple down into the scarf Bruce had started to wind around

his neck, then back up again. "If there's a crime ring that the FBI thinks is SHIELD's jurisdiction,isn't there a pretty good chance it's already on SHIELD's radar?"

"Pretty good," Natasha echoed, moving even closer to help him knot the scarf. "Then again,you're thinking about Fury's SHIELD. Coulson's works and plays well with others." Hiseyebrows twitched upward, and she conceded, "Plays better with others."

"Still seems a little…involved for a retired agent, don't you think?" Bruce turned to take a knittedcap off the coat rack. He pulled it down onto his head. Or tried to; getting his hair under itpresented something of a challenge, and curls stuck out every which way from under it. "Do youeven have security clearance to talk to Director Coulsonon the phone?"

"I transcend security clearance. I know his direct line."

His mouth formed a smile, but it lacked conviction. Natasha hadn't missed the swallowed sound of his voice, either, the way he measured his words and even the way he spoke them. Bruce would



never be one hundred percent comfortable with SHIELD, old or new. She leaned in and pressed agentle kiss to his cheek, the edge of his beard prickling her chin.

"Don't worry. I have no intention of getting involved. I'm not even going to call Coulson rightaway. He's missed out on too many Christmases with Audrey."

"Never stand in the way of a musician's holiday plans." Bruce's eyes crinkled at the corners as hissmile reached them now.

"So, what can I do to prove I'm not a shirker?"

"I'm going to hang the outside lights before it gets dark," he replied, delving into his coat pocketfor his gloves.

"It's ten in the morning."

"It could take me that long."

"Are there that many lights, or are you that bad at hanging them?"

Bruce paused in adjusting the fingers of his gloves. "You may have noticed I'm not very tall."

"The Other Guy is."

"But not exactly the holly jolly green giant. First I need to shovel the sidewalk and driveway."

A fresh layer of snow had fallen overnight, and the dropping temperatures froze the puddlesunderneath.

"You can help me in here, Natasha," called Susan from the hall.

Natasha started to go, but Bruce caught her arm and drew her back. He leaned in close, makingher think for a moment he was going to kiss her, then his eyes darted over her shoulder into thehall before he spoke in hushed tones.

"If we have time later, could you come to the mall with me and help me find Aunt Susan a leather jacket?"

"A leather jacket?"

"Apparently I'm not the only Banner with a green-eyed monster," he replied.

Without further explanation, he pecked Natasha on the lips and ducked through the front door tolet her work it out the uncharacteristically cryptic statement as she made her way down the hall.The more pressing concerns as she could hear the crooner over the stereo more clearly wasdifferentiating between Bing or Ol' Blue Eyes-at least she'd eliminated Andy-and, mostimportantly, what to talk about with Susan. There were lots of questions to ask Bruce's aunt, butnone of them seemed like great conversation openers.

Fortunately, Susan had that covered.

"Would you mind turning the CD player down a notch?" her voice greeted as Natasha entered thecozy back living room, which now contained so many boxes that it more closely resembled astorage closet. At first she didn't see Susan, then spotted her over the back of the sofa, kneeling onthe floor in front of the window to secure the bottom section of an artificial Christmas tree in thebase. A writing desk had been pushed aside to make room for the tree.



"I don't know what's happened to the remote," Susan went on. "Maybe the Grinch…"

"I've got it," Natasha replied, spotting it on the coffee table. She adjusted the volume and joinedSusan assembling the tree.

"You're probably regretting not staying home for your first Christmas in your new house," Susansaid as she glanced and the room, as if noticing the mess for the first time.

"It wouldn't have been very festive, since we don't have any decorations."

Neither one of them had been much for the holiday. When she wasn't working, she spent most of hers with Clint and Laura. They'd had parties at the Tower, of course, but Pepper had hired adecorator rather than depend on the Avengers to get crafty or creative-both dangerous when Tonywas involved.

"Bruce was talking about after-Christmas clearances."

"That's the way to do it, only beware getting overrun by wrapping paper. It seems like such abargain at the time, but no one really needs twenty rolls of Christmas gift wrap."

"Sage advice."

Natasha thought of Laura's craft room at the farm and her collection of Christmas gift wrap, whichshe went through annually with three kids to get presents for. Would that be her and Bruce nextyear? Fighting the Black Friday crowds at Toys R Us? Could be a potentially more dangerousprospect than the Chitauri or Hydra. Would they stay up all night wrapping or assembling bikesfrom Santa?

"I usually do this earlier," Susan's voice drew her back to the present, "but it seems like every year

it's more work getting ready for my holiday music programs."

"How many students do you teach?" Natasha readily pursued this conversation thread, glad forthe distraction from the turn her own thoughts, which were getting a little too optimistic forcomfort.

"Only around twenty out of my home, these days. I also teach some group classes at one of thecommunity colleges, and I lead the choirs at church."

"You're religious?" Bruce never mentioned a churchgoing background.

"Don't look so worried," Susan said, laughing. "I'm Unitarian Universalist."

Natasha nodded; she didn't have much experience with any church, but she knew Unitarians werethe co-exist types. Not surprising, given Susan's artistic, slightly hippie aura.

"And busy," Natasha remarked.

"I didn't even mention the music therapy sessions," Susan added with a grin.

"Are you sure you aren't a superhero?"

Their conversation lapsed for a few minutes as they fluffed the branches of the assembled tree andhunted through them for the power cords to connect the sections of lights and listened to the deepbaritone. The CD changed, an out of date sound that Natasha didn't immediately recognize.

As the jazz piano soundtrack of the Charlie Brown Christmas movie crackled out of the



speakers-O Tannenbaum, appropriately- Susan spoke again, as if there had been no break in theconversation.

"You know, a few of the kids I work with have been in the foster system, or are adopted. I cangive you some resources or connect you with some music therapists in New York if that'ssomething you and Bruce would be interested in. You might find it very helpful. Now why isn'tthis middle section lighting up? Did we miss a plug?"

It took a lot to surprise Natasha, but here she was, staring at Susan as she put on her glasses andleaned into the Christmas tree, pushing branches aside in search of the culprit of their lightmalfunction.

"Bruce told you we're trying to adopt? Voluntarily?"

"No, everything seems to be hooked up," Susan murmured, straightening up. "Guess there's abulb out…I think I've got a tester somewhere, in one of those boxes…" As she stepped away fromthe tree, leaving Natasha to wonder whether she'd heard her question at all, she answered it. "Idon't know if I'd say Bruce volunteered the info so much as blurted it out when I cornered himabout whether you two had marriage plans."

The track ended, and for a few long seconds, the only sound was a scraping sound outside thewindow-Bruce shoveling, Natasha realized after a moment.

"I'm not sure we're really the marrying kind," she replied.

"Bruce is. Or he used to be. But then people do change. I'm not judging, dear," she added, turningback to touch Natasha gently on the arm.

"I didn't think you were."

"How interesting-I always imagined I'd never be able to guess if a super spy was lying to me."

Natasha had to smile at that, and Susan returned it.

"I'm thrilled you've opened him back up to love and a real life. He's a tough nut to crack." With asqueeze, she released Natasha's arm and pulled back the flaps of the nearest box to rummageinside. "That's the reason I became interested in music therapy, you know. He was so withdrawn.I took him to see a counselor, but he just wouldn't talk, to her or to me. I think he was equal partssad that I wasn't his mother, and scared that I'd be like my brother…One day I noticed him sittingon the stairs while I taught a piano lesson, listening through the French doors. It was the first time

I'd seen him look relaxed. Or smile. So, I exposed him to all the music I could. Made sure it wasalways playing in the house…that he heard it live. I didn't have a lot of money for concerts, butthere were student and faculty recitals at the university. We attended all of those we could."

"He told me," Natasha replied, and Susan looked pleased. "Listening to music's still a big part of how he comes back to himself after a transformation."

She pictured him on the quinjet with his headphones on, oblivious to Tony complaining abouthow the cool image was so deceiving when was listening to opera.

"Does he play?"

"I gave him lessons," Susan replied, moving to the next box, finding a zip-top baggie containingthe light tester and spare bulbs right on top.

"Was he any good?"



"He was…accurate. I never could decide if he was afraid to play with expression, or if he justwasn't naturally very musically inclined. In any case, he didn't seem to get as much pleasure frommaking music as he did from listening to it. Which was fine. I don't expect all my students to bemusicians. And Bruce certainly has his areas he excels in."

She fell silent as she tested the section of lights, and Natasha recognized that the tune playing wasWhat Child Is This?

"Aha! There are the culprits. Hand me the spare bulbs, please?"

Dropping the burnt-out ones in Natasha's hand, she went on as she replaced them. "People alwayssaid how good it was that I was able to take him in. That he was lucky to have family rather thanget passed through the foster system after a trauma like that. Certainly that was one reason why Ioffered. What I didn't realize at the time was how good it would be for me."

The new bulbs in place, and the middle section of the tree lit up.

"Brian-Bruce's father-wasn't the only one of us who didn't plan to have children after the way we

grew up. Then my divorce put me off the idea of marriage altogether. Having Bruce, though…Ithealed some of my own wounds that I thought never would. Helped me finally put the past behindme. I hope that'll be his experience. And yours."

"Me too," Natasha said. Especially the part about Bruce putting his past behind him. She started totell Susan that he'd told her very little about his childhood, but before she could, he appeared in thedoorway, having shed his layers of winter clothing.

"How do I still hear shoveling if you're in here?" Aunt Susan asked.

A sheepish look crossed Bruce's face as he reached up and ruffled his hair, which was flattened

against his head from his hat. "Some neighbor kids recognized me and said the Hulk shouldn't beshoveling. So they took over."

"Maybe they'll volunteer to do the lights, too," Natasha said.

"Dayton's very proud to be the hometown of an Avenger," Susan said. "There was a petition awhile to change the city's nickname from 'The Birthplace of Aviation' to 'The Birthplace of Smash.' I'm not sure it was a joke."

"Oh, it had to be a joke," Bruce said. "The Wright Brothers?"

Aunt Susan shrugged. "Their descendants weren't thrilled with the idea, of course. Speaking of which, if there's anything you want to take back to New York with you, Bruce, please do. I needto clear some things out of the house, and I'd be thrilled for you to take some of the heirlooms foryour family."

If he'd looked uncomfortable with his celebrity, the stiffness of his shoulders, the set of his jaw,indicated this idea was downright painful to him. But he reached into a box, forced a smile as hedrew out a homemade ornament, a star constructed from drinking straws and plastic beads. "Is thiswhat you mean by heirloom?"



Chapter End Notes

Happy holidays to you all! This will be the last update before the New Year, so Ihope it'll tide you over. (I will have a holiday one-shot to post later this week, to keepthe BruceNat in Christmas. ;)) This fandom has been such a gift this year, and Iappreciate each and everyone of you who has read, reviewed, and followed my fics,

and I hope my stories have been a small part of keeping your days merry and bright.<3



What I Can, I Give

Chapter Notes

Back after a Christmas hiatus, thanks to the awesome vladnyrki, who betaed for meafter a long road trip. The holidays are over, but hopefully you all won't mind a little

more Christmas in this chapter. Happy New Year to all my readers. I appreciate youall so much and am looking forward to a MARVELous 2016 with you all.

The engine purred as Bruce watched his aunt through the windshield, foggy with steam and theswirl of exhaust fumes visible in the chilly night air. After he'd given her a hand out of the back seat he'd tried to walk her to the church door, but she'd declined the offer of assistance.

"There comes a point when gallantry just makes you feel geriatric. Anyway," Susan added, warmhazel eyes twinkling as they caught the light from the car, "I saw you slip on that icy patch asecond ago. I think I'll take my chances with the sidewalk."

Although Bruce slid back into the driver's seat feeling a little chastised, he didn't immediately pullaway from the curb, or even shut the door all the way behind him. Instead, he let the motor idle ashe kept an eye on her. Apart from walking a little slower now than she used to, with her shouldersmore hunched, which may have been in concession to the black ice on the sidewalk, he had toconcede that Aunt Susan really had aged well.

"I didn't mean to make her feel old," he commented to Natasha, who sat in the front passengerseat. "Force of habit. I must've dropped her off at choir practice a thousand times. We only had theone car, and I had to get to the mall…I worked at the pizza place..."

Natasha's eyebrows went up. "We're going to the mall after this. Are you taking me out for pizzaat your old job?"

"I hadn't planned to, but I guess I could…" Bruce chuckled, rubbing a hand over his beard. "Idon't even know if it's still there."

The church door swung open as Susan reached it, and after she greeted the fellow church member

who'd gotten it for her she turned back to wave. Bruce raised one hand from the steering wheel,leery of whoever it was coming out to speak to him. It was needless worry; his aunt disappearedinside, and at last he shifted into drive and pulled the car around the parking lot.

"Sorry for abandoning you this morning," he said as he turned out onto Yankee Street, "I hope itwasn't awkward for you, after you only just met."

"Susan's one of those weirdly easy people to talk to," Natasha replied. "Maybe because she doesmost of the talking."

Bruce heard the wryness in her voice even before he glanced at her and saw her smirk in the brief

flash as they passed under a street light. That was his aunt to a T.

"What did she do most of the talking about?"

"Well…She wanted to know if I intend to make an honest man out of you."



Although Natasha's words were jokey, Bruce hadn't missed that nanosecond of hesitation beforeshe said them, which hinted at something not at all jokey.

"Yeah…she mentioned that to me, too."

"Before or after you told her we started the adoption process?"

Damn it. He braked to a stop at a red light. They hadn't discussed whether they would tell Susan

about their adoption plans or not. Probably not, given how early they still were in the process.After he spilled the beans, he'd hoped his aunt would have the sense not to say anything about it tosomeone she'd met only the night before. Shouldn't have relied on hope…

"Before," he admitted. "That's why I blurted it out."

"I'm not following."

Bruce's fingers slid into the grooves of the steering wheel as he worked to piece his own scatteredthought process together in a cogent order for Natasha.

"I don't know," he began. "I felt like she was questioning our commitment, and I had to prove it."

Did he? Was Natasha questioning it? Was that why she'd brought this up? They'd bought a housetogether, made a life and plans for the future…were attempting to start a family against oddsnearly as impossible as the biological ones. If that wasn't commitment, then he didn't understandthe meaning of the word.

"Light's green," her voice rasped gently into his musings.

Overcompensating for not noticing the signal had changed, Bruce gunned it off the line.

Fortunately there was no one in front of him to rear end.

"Sorry," he said through his teeth.

In his periphery he saw Natasha watching him steadily. Her hand came to rest lightly on his thigh.

"This isn't the conversation we need to have right now," she said.

She was letting him off the hook. Bruce knew in the pit of his stomach that he should probablydeal with the uncomfortable topic-or the other one her the indicated they did need to be havingright now-but, coward that he was, he took the reprieve she dangled out to him and changed it.

"I'd prefer to have the one about where we can find an age-appropriate leather jacket for AuntSusan."

"Depends what's at the mall," she said with a shrug, withdrawing her hand to face forward in herseat. He felt the absence of her touch at once.

Felt alone, right next to her.

Bruce repeated that he didn't know which stores were still there and which had changed since he'dlast been in Dayton. A number of the landmarks on the way to the mall had, and conversation

lapsed altogether as he got a little lost. When they did finally pull onto the mall drive, even parkingfelt odd to him because what used to be Rike's Department Store was now lit up by the glowingred star of Macy's.

"Appropriate for Christmas, though," Natasha quipped, "a wise man and woman from the East,



following yonder star."

Snorting, Bruce said, "To the mall, though? Charlie Brown's right about the commercialization of Christmas."

The joking diffused the tension, and they held hands as they made their way across the parkinglot. Having come from New York City, they'd expected shopping at a mall in not even the largestcity in Ohio to be a piece of cake, but he'd forgotten the insanity of even small shopping malls two

days before Christmas. They entered Macy's at the shoe section, where Natasha was instantlydistracted by the displays of boots.

"You've already taken up half our closet with your boot collection," Bruce teased as gently priedone from her hands that didn't look all that different from a pair she had back home, except thatthey laced up the back, which was an interesting fashion design choice. How did that work,practically?

"But we have four more bedrooms with empty closets," Natasha replied, but allowed him to takeher hand again and pull her away from the shoes.

Once they found the coats, they chose a jacket for Aunt Susan relatively quickly, Natasha havinga laser focus for that sort of thing.

"There's another career possibility for you, if you get tired of security consulting," Brucesuggested. "Personal stylist." He was only half-joking, after what she'd said about the morning'sphone call about the space crime ring, or whatever it was.

"Potentially more dramatic and dangerous than the superhero gig."

They had time to kill before Susan's choir rehearsal ended, so they walked around the mall. Some

of the stores had changed, but the overall look of the mall hadn't, and when they walked past thefood court, Phantom Pizza was still there. For old time's sake, they got slices and sat down at atable by the railing that overlooked the central plaza, where the Santa Claus display was. The linewound around and around like an amusement park, and some of the kids seemed to be seriouslytesting whether they were on the naughty or nice list. Bruce wondered whether they'd make it tothe front of the line before the mall closed.

"Not exactly New York pizza," he said, biting into his slice.

"But it does give me a sense of your very middle-class Midwestern upbringing."

Natasha turned from watching the families in line for Santa and faced Bruce, the amused linesfading from her face as her eyes settled on him in a way that made him squirm inwardly. Worm on

a hook.

"Being around Aunt Susan, hearing allusions she's made…I'm realizing how little you've actuallytalked about your past. I hardly know anything about it that wasn't in your file."

"I showed you all my science fair awards and bought you pizza from my old place of employment."

He tried to play it off, but despite how much time he'd spent with Tony, that wasn't a skill he'dmastered.

"That's surface stuff," Natasha said, wiping the grease off her fingers with her napkin beforefolding her arms on the edge of the table. "You know that's not what I mean."



"It's not like you've opened up to me about yours."

"True." When her gaze flickered down, Bruce hoped it meant point taken, but then they snappedup again. "Maybe I should."

He shook his head slowly. "Some doors are better left closed, Natasha. To keep the monstersinside."

She didn't respond. Or move. Bruce resumed eating his pizza. Only when she scooted her chairback from the table and picked up her tray as she stood did it occur how she might have taken hiswords. How she had taken them.

The scrape of his own chair's legs against the floor underscored his breathless apology. "Natasha,I'm sorry…You know I didn't mean…"

"I know."

She emptied the contents of her tray into the trash can, the flap swinging on its hinges as sheplaced the tray atop. When she turned back she avoided his gaze, side-stepped him to return to

their table. He followed, stammering an explanation as she put on her jacket and slid her pursestrap over her shoulder.

"It's just…it's Christmas. We're in a mall full of parents shopping for their kids and kids seeingSanta…We're looking at the future we hope to have. Is this really the place to open those doors?"

"You're right," she replied, gripping the handle of their shopping bag. "But Bruce…sometimes Ifeel like your doors aren't just shut, they're locked. "And you've thrown away the key."

In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan…

Choir rehearsal hadn't ended yet when they arrived back at the church to pick up Aunt Susan. Thedrive from the mall had been about as comfortable as if the Other Guy had tried to squeeze intothe Honda, and when Natasha suggested they go inside to wait, Bruce readily agreed.

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone…

Only about a dozen singers stood at the front of the sanctuary, not so much directed asaccompanied by Susan on the grand piano at the center of the stage in front of the choir risers, buttheir voices carried to the back, where Bruce and Natasha stood just inside the doors.

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter

Long ago.

As the song went through the Nativity story, he stole a glance at her, curious what she wasmaking of the overt religious references. Her expression, though, was blank, unreadable as shelistened with her head slightly tilted.



Bruce returned his eyes to the front, settling on Aunt Susan at the piano, a sight he was deeplyfamiliar with, both at home and right here in this church. Natasha had been surprised at thereligious upbringing he never spoke about, but the truth was, he didn't think about it all that much,either. Attending or not had been his choice, when he was old enough, and more often than not hehadn't, preferring to sleep in on Sunday mornings. Special musical performances were theexception. Music had always soothed him, long before Hulkouts, and his taste in music-or utterlack thereof, as Tony said-had been partially formed sitting in this small sanctuary, the voices of the choir floating up into the exposed beams of the vaulted ceiling as golden morning light beamed

the high window slots that lined the side aisles, and filtered in a rainbow through the stained-glass.

In the dim light of the winter night, the gentle melody of the Christmas carol was having that effecton him now, calming his erratic heartbeat and clearing his head. Maybe this was the sort of thingNatasha meant when she wanted him to open up about his past.

What can I give Him,

Poor as I am?

Maybe it was the imagery of the stable and the manger that turned Bruce's thoughts to Barton'sfarm. He pictured himself there, with her, in the midst of another argument.

If I were a shepherd

I would bring a lamb…

If I were a wise man

I would do my part…

Natasha's fingers curled around his. He looked at her again, but her eyes were fixed ahead, on thechoir.

Yet what I can, I give Him -

Give my heart.

Playing Santa on Christmas morning, Bruce pulled one of the neatly wrapped packages frombeneath the tree and held it out to Natasha. The hopeful light in his eyes, the soft smile on his lipsalmost undid her, but rather than take it from him, she arched an eyebrow.

"I thought we agreed no presents this year, what with the new house and everything."

He ducked his head, caught his lower lip between his teeth. "We did, but…Did you really think Iwas going to stick to that? Did you stick to it?"

Natasha pursed her lips to squelch a smile, but failed. She reached out and accepted the presentfrom him.

"Nice gift wrapping, Doc," she commented as he stood behind the couch, looking over hershoulder. She was always slightly amazed at how tidily he wrapped, when he himself existed in a

perpetually rumpled state.

"Nice unwrapping," Bruce replied as she slid a fingernail beneath the piece of tape at one foldedend, carefully reaching in to slide the box out from its wrap without tearing the paper orcompromising the shape.



A shoebox. A boot box, to be exact, and she looked up at him, lifting her eyebrow again. "Youwent shoe shopping for me?"

"That was brave," Aunt Susan said. "Then again, you are a superhero."

Bruce just nodded at the box. "I had a little help."

Natasha lifted the lid, imagining Bruce looking as befuddled in a shoe store as he had the first time

he was aboard the Helicarrier, enlisting a salesgirl to help him shop, but as she pulled back thetissue paper, she burst out laughing.

"These are the boots I was ogling the other day in Macy's," she said, drawing out the cognacboots that laced up the back. "When did you sneak back for them?"

Sometime after their fraught shopping trip to the mall; with a pang she realized that they weren't just a Christmas gift, they were a peace offering.

"Let me have some secrets, if I can't shop for you all on my own."

"Why would you, when she has such wonderful taste in fashion?" asked Aunt Susan, admiringthe boots from across the room, where she sat in a chair near the fire. "Although they look a littlecomplicated to put on."

"I'm glad you agree with Natasha's taste," Bruce said, going back to the tree and stooping foranother gift. "Because she helped me pick this out for you."

"Oh, Bruce," she said, taking out the rich brown blazer-style leather jacket, "you really shouldn'thave."

"Of course I should. After I made you feel old the other day, this seemed like the perfect way tomake up for it."

"You don't think I look like I'm trying too hard?" Susan asked, though she'd already shed hercardigan to try on the new jacket.

"You look fantastic," Natasha assured her. "I knew that color would really bring out the russettones in your hair and eyes."

Susan stepped out of the living room, presumably into the hall powder room to check herreflection in the mirror.

"I think you did well," Natasha told Bruce.

"You did," he said, bending to pick up the discarded wrapping paper and add it to the trash bag.

"With our powers combined, we make a super jacket shopping team."

"Amen to that," Aunt Susan said, coming back into the room. "Thank you so much." She huggedNatasha, then Bruce, pecking him on the cheek. "Now," she said, drawing back, "I havesomething for you."

Still wearing the jacket, she stepped around him, avoiding the discarded Macy's box her jacket hadbeen wrapped in.

"Here, let me-" he started to say, but stopped when Susan glanced back at him. "You can't think Ilook like an old lady with this jacket on, can you?"



Natasha moved her feet so Bruce could sit at the opposite end of the sofa, thinking as he did thathe only the beard kept him from looking every inch the compliant boy he'd once been. Even withit, the look on his face as he tore off the gift wrap-which looked like Susan had it since the 80s-made her feel she was somehow seeing a ghost of one of Bruce's Christmases past. Which waslikely as much as she was going to get, if he continued to clam up about his childhood.

His exclamation of Oh my God as he opened the flaps of the box pushed the thought to the back of her mind, and she uncurled her legs to scoot closer to him on the sofa as he said, "Now these

are a blast from the past."

By these he meant a big stack of vintage Captain America comics.

"Are they first editions?" Natasha asked, noting the dates of the issues were all from the 1940s.

"Yeah," Bruce replied, "though not exactly mint condition."

The covers were faded, tattered.

"I found those when we were down in the basement the other day," Aunt Susan said, running herhand along the sofa as she came around it to resume her chair. "I remembered how much youloved them when you were little and thought you might want to give them to your kids."

Your kids. She spoke about them as though the adoption were a sure thing. Natasha's pulsequickened, but she didn't let herself smile until she looked up at Bruce and saw one curving on hislips, a nostalgic look lighting his eyes.

"Definitely," he said. "These meant a lot to me as a kid."

"They did to us, too," said Susan, smiling as she shrugged out of her jacket and draped it over the

arm of her chair, rubbing her hand over the supple leather.

"Us?" Natasha asked.

"Hm? Oh, my sister and me. And Brian."

Bruce had been rifling through the stack of comic books, turning the pages and looking at them asthough he were meeting long-lost friends, but now he went absolutely still.

"There used to be a lot more," Aunt Susan went on, oblivious, "but our father destroyed them. Hefought in the war, you see, and he wasn't very happy to come home and find his son idolizing a

Super Soldier when men like him were on the front lines. Those are the only ones Brian managedto hide."

"You never told me that," Bruce said, lips barely moving as he half-swallowed the words. Hestared down at the comics in his lap, the nostalgic expression gone, eyes hard as if the books hadchanged into something he'd never seen before.

His aunt considered him for a moment, then went on, "Elaine and I would sneak out of bed toread them with Brian after bad days with dad. It helped to think that there was someone out therewho fought for justice and right. Never knowing someday our nephew would be his brother-in-arms. With his girlfriend," she added with a smile at Natasha.

She made herself return it, turn to Bruce and say lightly, "You'll have to show these to Steve. Gethim to autograph them," but her voice scraped over the words.

"Yeah. Thanks, Aunt Susan. This is really thoughtful."



He packed the comics back into the cardboard box, and Natasha could tell by the set of his mouthas he closed the flaps that he was packing away any further discussion on the subject, too.

The bedroom door stood ajar when Natasha emerged from the bathroom later that night. Sheslipped silently through it, although the squeak of the hinges as she pulled it shut behind her gaveher away. Not that she was trying to sneak in.

Bruce, already in bed, didn't stir at her entrance. He wasn't asleep. Enough light poured throughthe open curtains that she could make out the stillness of his shoulders. He wasn't the heaviest of sleepers, but even he breathed more deeply than that when he slept. He lay on his side, facingtoward the window and the waxing gibbous moon.

It gave her an idea about how to break the silence. To his credit, he hadn't let himself slip into abrooding mood after the painful moment when they were exchanging presents, though by the endof the night it had been obvious the veneer of happiness was wearing thin. He'd been quiet anddistracted while they watched It's a Wonderful Life after dinner, ordinarily one of his favoriteChristmas traditions.

Untying the belt of her robe, she sang low: "Buffalo gals won't you come out tonight, won't youcome out tonight, won't you come out tonight...Buffalo gals won't you came out tonight, and…."Like George Bailey in the movie, Bruce's voice joined with hers, a little off-key as he harmonized."…dance by the light of the moon."

Not the most beautiful duet ever sung, especially not in the house of a musician, but Natasha didn'tcare. As her robe slipped off her shoulders and pooled on the floor at her feet, he rolled onto hisother side to face her, lifting the blankets for her as she joined him in bed and putting his armsaround her to draw her close.

"What is it you want, Tasha?" he murmured. "You want the moon? Just say the word and I'llthrow a lasso around it and-" He stopped short, the pillowcase rustling beneath his head as heshook it. "I can't give you the moon any more than George Bailey could give it to Mary."

"She didn't want the moon," Natasha replied, stroking his cheek, the softness of his beard. "Andneither do I."

She wanted him to be open with her, to trust her enough to open up, but she knew from personalexperience how hard-earned Bruce's trust was. She'd been patient before to make the lullabywork. She would have to be again.

"Bruce Banner," she said in his ear, his beard prickling against her cheek and chin, "I'll love youtill the day I die."

In answer, he pressed his lips to hers with an insistence she understood even if he couldn't put itinto words. Natasha kissed him back, wrapped her arms and legs around him as he covered hisbody with her own. For now, actions would have to speak for them.



Family Values

Chapter Notes


"Look who's home for the holidays."

Tony's voice reverberated in the underground parking lot, which Bruce and Natasha had beencrossing toward the brightly lit entryway to the attached building. They stopped and turned to seehim emerging from the passenger door of what appeared to be a new Tesla, although it was a littlehard to tell with the spatter of Upstate New York snow and mud. The driver's seat was empty, andTony hadn't bothered to pull in between the lines. Not that space was at a premium.

"This isn't exactly home," Bruce said, indicating the pair of glass doors, each etched with a largeencircled A. He'd been to the Avengers Facility before, used the lab, even stayed in Natasha'ssuite for a few days when he re-joined the team after his stint in Asgard, but never lived here. Itwasn't like the Tower, where they'd resumed residence for a few months in the wake of theInfinity Wars while they figured out their relationship and made future plans.

"True," came Tony's unexpected agreeable reply, punctuated by the slam of the car door behindhim.

"And we're not here for the holidays," Natasha added as he approached.

"Yeah, you know how when couples have been together for a long time they start sounding likeeach other?"

Bruce glanced at Natasha, who darted her eyes up at him as the corner of her mouth curled."Pretty sure Pepper's still waiting for that to happen," he muttered.

"I didn't think you'd been together for that long," Tony concluded as though Bruce hadn'tcommented. "Anyway, I'm expecting you to host a New Year's Eve party at your home."

He looked at Bruce as he said it, perhaps anticipating Natasha's reply. "I've seen what houses look like after you've partied in them, Stark."

"Malibu was a long time ago."

"I remember one that ended even worse than Malibu."

"That was just as much Bruce's fault as mine," Tony shot back, wheeling on him. "You know Ithought about crashing the party at your aunt's, but in the end I just couldn't deal with Ohio."

Over Tony's shoulder, Bruce sought Natasha's gaze, silently begging her for help. He hadn't seenTony since summer, at their housewarming, and while he'd missed his friend, and seeing him nowwas the only part of this meeting he felt good about, he wasn't used to how dizzying it could be tointeract with him.

"Ohio's not that bad," she said, her sarcastic smirk softening into a reassuring smile. "We went to

Dayton Mall and the Aviation Heritage Park."

"Do they have a Gamma Radiation Heritage Park?"

Tony looked back and forth between them with the eagerness of a puppy. Bruce almost hated to



disappoint him. Or maybe Natasha was rubbing off on him, and it would be fun.

"Thankfully, no," he said.

There wasn't time to watch Tony's face fall before Natasha added, waggling her brows at Bruce,"They have been discussing a Hulk monument, though."

He shook his head, gloved fingers going up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but the bone Natasha

had thrown Tony wasn't enough.

He sniffed. "Until they do more than discuss, Dayton is officially the most boring Avengerhometown."

"What about if they do get one?" Bruce asked, curious in spite of himself.

"When," Natasha added, nudging his arm with her shoulder. "We agreed to talk in whens not ifs,remember?"

With reference to adopting children-but of course Bruce had no intention of mentioning that in

front of Tony. Yet.

"Then Dayton will still be the most boring Avenger hometown. But it'll get an E for effort," Tonyadded, magnanimously.

"Hey, boring isn't bad," Bruce said. "I hope life stays boring."

"I must be getting old, because I hope so, too, buddy." He reached out and clasped Bruce'sshoulder, giving it a little squeeze. Then he turned Bruce toward the doors and gave him a littlenudge to walk. "After your New Year's Eve party."

"Can you even stay awake till midnight anymore?" asked Natasha, the click of her boot heels-theones Bruce had given her for Christmas-echoing off the concrete.

Tony whipped his head back to glare at her. "Are you calling me old ?"

"You just called yourself-" Bruce stopped short as Tony swung back to glare at him.

" Not the same thing. Do you let her talk to you that way, Brucie? Nice beard, by the way." Hereached out, as though to touch it, but Natasha distracted him.

"Nice ride, by the way. Christmas present?"

"Not for Happy, if that's the self-driving Tesla," Bruce joked. "Putting a man out of a job? AtChristmastime?"

"If he'd rather drive, he'd better do it," Natasha added. "And decrease the chauffeur population."

"Um, you're doing that sounding like each other thing again," Tony said. "I'll let you take her outafter the meeting. I'll even let you sit in the driver's seat."

"Of the self-driving car," Bruce said. "Gee."

Despite the sarcastic streak Tony always brought out in him, Bruce enjoyed the banter.Conversation with Natasha had felt strained since Christmas. She hadn't brought up the darkeraspects of his childhood again since their argument in the mall, but she didn't have to for him tofeel that the subject was still open, like a sore with the scab picked off. He didn't know how toclose it back up again, except to give it enough time that it would eventually just go away. Tony



brought a welcome distraction-and not just from Bruce's domestic woes, but from his worry aboutthis meeting they'd been summoned to the Avengers Facility for.

He reconsidered that opinion when they went inside and met Vision gliding down the staircase tothe conference room. "Bruce," Tony said, grabbing his arm, "you, me, and our son, all togetheragain."

"We, er, were all together during the Infinity War."

"Really?" Natasha murmured as they stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Of all the problems withthat statement, that's the one you address?"

"Hello, Tony," said Vision. Even after all this time, it still jarred Bruce hear JARVIS' voice callhim anything besides Mr. Stark. At least he still greeted him, "Dr. Banner," though Tony took issue with this.

"I know our little family's had its share of dysfunction, especially the fighting on different sidesand all-"

"I had no part in that," Bruce interjected.

"-but hindsight is 20/20, so I see now that was clearly a case of adolescent rebellion brought on byyour absentee father here." Tony patted Bruce's shoulder, which sagged beneath his hand with hisown sigh. "Formality can't be helping to bridge the gap between us. I'm not saying you have tocall him Dad, but maybe at least Bruce?"

Vision fixed Bruce with his eerily bright, unblinking gaze. "Do you want me to call you-?"

"BRUCE!" Thor hailed like the onset of a thunderstorm, striding into the lobby as the automatic

doors parted for him, cape flapping behind him. "Friend of Asgard, I did not expect to be brothers-in-arms again."

His crushing embrace prevented Bruce from vocalizing anything to the contrary, though he couldhear Tony in the background still offering Vision a word of paternal advice. "You don't have togo that big. But the general idea is good. Warmth. Friendship. Family."

There were some obvious differences between Phil Coulson as SHIELD Director and hispredecessor, most of them superficial. At the moment, the one that stood out most to Natasha wasthat Fury would never thank anyone for attending a meeting during the holidays and promising to

keep it brief so they could get back to their homes and families. Then again, if Coulson didn't haveAudrey-and his in-laws- waiting for him back home, maybe he would be more like Fury.

"As most of you know," he said, getting up from his seat at the top of the conference table,pushing the swivel chair under the table as he stepped around to stand behind it, "since herretirement Ms. Romanoff has been consulting for various security organizations. Most recently forthe FBI, whom she advised to hand off a case to SHIELD."

Seated to the left of Coulson's empty chair, Steve opened his mouth, presumably to protest that theAvengers weren't SHIELD.

"But this is more Avenger-level stuff than SHIELD," Jessica Jones beat him to the punch, verbalreflexes still lightning fast despite her languid feet-propped-on-the-table posture that spoke of being bored with this meeting already. "So maybe you should just skip the opening monologueand tell us who the bad guys are so we can go kick their asses and get home to the kid."



"Squirrel Girl's babysitting," Luke added.

Natasha leaned over to whisper to Bruce, his hair tickling her cheek. "We should put her on thelist."

He blinked at her behind the lenses of his glasses, and the corner of her mouth tugged upward athow very like old times this was, whispering to each other during Avengers meetings. Only of course this was a different bunch of people, and back then the comments were the most awkward

attempts at flirtation rather than jokes about babysitters.

"Squirrel Girl?" he whispered back.

"Oh dear God !" Tony exclaimed, and a glance at Coulson revealed him to be looking as thoughhe was regretting the decision to assemble the Avengers-though it had to be noted that he didn't tryto reign Stark in, and not just because he knew it would be a futile endeavor. "That nutjob-punintended-stalked me outside the Tower once. I thought she was one of the cosplayers that wasalways hanging around, but she wanted me to put her on the Avengers roster. I told her not whileshe was dressed like a furry."

"Did you say fury?" Thor asked Bruce in a voice that was meant to be low, but still rumbledsonorously.

"Don't ask," Bruce replied, "furry culture is not a path you want to go down, trust me."

"Do you really think Asgardians of all people, are going to be put off by furries?" Natasha asked.

Bruce blinked at her again as he considered this, then tilted his head, conceding the point.Scratching his beard, he murmured, "On the other hand, I'm a little bit put off by wonderingwhether the Loki we know and don't love has horse, worm, and wolf children."

"And that," Thor said in grim tones, "is not a path you wish to descend."

"For the sake of Luke and Jessica who are currently paying for a babysitter…" Coulson attemptedto bring the meeting back to order.

"All in favor of New Year's Eve at the Banner-Romanoff residence in Ithaca say yea," Tony said.

Everyone said yea-except for Bruce and Natasha, of course, and Vision, who asked, "HaveNatasha and Dr- Bruce invited us to their residence?"

"The manners he gets from me," Bruce muttered.

"Come on, Vish," Tony said. "Where is the spirit of spontaneity you should have inherited fromme?"

"To answer your question, Ms. Jones," Coulson said, "I wouldn't describe this as aboveSHIELD's level. But I will acknowledge that we're spread thin after the events of the past fewyears, and we have a nation-wide criminal network to deal with. If I may direct your attentiondeficit disorder to the projector…"

"That's ableist," Tony stage-whispered, but as soon as the image of a bald man with a blonde

mustache in a business suit appeared on the screen behind Coulson, he said, "Hey, I know thatguy."

"So do we," Cage said. "Van Lunt's got real estate ads all over Hell's Kitchen."



"Cornelius van Lunt," Coulson said with a nod. "AKA, Taurus."

"As in Ford?" Tony said. "Shitty choice of car-themed alias."

"You'd prefer he went with Tesla?" Bruce quipped.

"As in the Zodiac," Coulson attempted to steer them off the rabbit trail. "Van Lunt's obsessed withastrology-"

"He told me once at a soiree he attributes his business acumen to his astrologer," Tony said. "Yougot Stephen Strange on this?"

"We're in contact," Coulson replied. He looked at Steve, "Is this how your meetings always went?Interruption after interruption?"

"Pretty much."

"Explains a lot."

Miraculously, maybe taking it as some sort of challenge, Tony kept quiet while Coulson gotthrough his presentation of the Zodiac Cartel, twelve associated but independently operating crimerings spread throughout the US, united under van Lunt. SHIELD didn't have IDs on any of theother members, except that each was born under a different astrological sign.

"Do they have any connection with the Zodiac Virus Romanoff and I recovered back in 2014?"Steve asked the question Natasha had been turning over in her mind.

In fact, SHIELD's history with the virus went farther back than that; Peggy Carter originally took it from another group using the Zodiac name back in the SSR days.

"Not that we're currently aware of," Coulson answered, "although it's not out of the realm of possibility, given the Hydra connections."

"Of course there are," Steve muttered.

"In fact, Hydra and Zodiac are business rivals," Coulson went on. "They both aim for worlddomination through economic and political control. Both require chaos in order to prosper."

"And this ongoing peace after isn't as good for business as wartime," concluded Steve.

Natasha watched him with interest. Once he hadn't been able to imagine a world without war;now he didn't seem to welcome the fight as much as he used to.

"Zodiac came onto SHIELD's radar when Daniel Ranford, a known Hydra operative, went dark,only for Zodiac to come up with a device we never recovered after Hydra raided the Fridge.Ranford had to have passed him the intel, if not the object itself."

An ankh-shaped object appeared on the screen.

"Looks like the Key of the Nile," Coulson said, "for those of you familiar with Egyptianartefacts…" He caught Natasha's eye; his father had been something of an Indiana Jones, before

his death. "We're pretty certain it's not Egyptian. Unless you mean in the sense of aliens built thepyramids. Then yes, it's very Egyptian."

"What does this object do?" Bruce spoke for the first time, although Natasha didn't miss how he'dsat up straighter and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his interest piqued.



"We don't know," Coulson said. "Whatever it does, we don't want it doing it while it's in thehands of Zodiac."

"The symbol suggests it may have originated in the Ankh Dimension," Vision said, "which is saidto thrive on conflict between the forces of good and evil, in which neither side entirely orpermanently defeats the other."

"Yeah," Coulson said, "we especially don't want it in Zodiac's hands if it comes from there."

The meeting didn't go on very long after that. They made plans to take teams to the cities withknown Zodiac activity. Cage and Jones volunteered to take New York, with the Defenders.

"When you pay Squirrel Girl," Coulson said, "you may want to tell her to assemble the GreatLakes Avengers."

He was serious, and unlikely as it seemed, they took him seriously. Tony, on the other hand, hadreached his limit.

"I'm sorry, did you just say Great Lakes Avengers?"

Coulson smirked. "Yeah. Barton's been training them."

Bruce looked to Natasha. "First I heard of it," she replied with a shrug. "He did always have athing for strays."

"Let me guess, they have a big blue mutant ox on the team," said Tony. "Congratulations, Bruce.You're no longer the Avenger with the least cool birthplace. The title has been usurped by SquirrelGirl, who is no doubt from some podunk town outside Flint, Michigan."

"She's from LA," Jessica said in her usual deadpan, though there was a twist to the corner of hermouth that said she enjoyed taking Stark down a peg. Well-who didn't?

"Don't knock the Great Lakes, Stark," said Coulson. "I'm from Wisconsin originally."

Tony scowled. "You would be."

After the meeting, Tony dragged Bruce off to the labs to see the toys, which apparently includedErik Selvig and Jane Foster, who'd come with Thor to visit her old advisor. The whole thing hadmade Natasha feel strangely nostalgic, but instead of lingering in the conference room to catch up

with old friends, she slipped off to wander the halls of Facility. Other than some repair work, notmuch had changed since she'd been in residence-not even the access to her room, she discoveredwhen she passed her old quarters and, on a whim, palmed the pad and the LED flashed green,granting her entry.

Why hadn't Rogers assigned it to anyone else? Had he believed, all this time, that eventually she'dcome back? She hesitated outside the unlocked door, heart inexplicably thumping, feelingsomehow that if she went inside she'd be re-entering a past she didn't regret, but had left behind allthe same. Was this what Bruce felt at his Aunt Susan's?

With that thought, Natasha turned the handle and pushed the door open.

It was just a room, furnished but empty of anything personal-not that she'd brought much personalwhen the Avengers relocated upstate-everything top of the line, but a little less luxurious, a littlemore institutional, than the Tower. She moved through the space, absently opening the closet, thedrawers of the dresser and nightstands, the cabinets of the adjoining bathroom, when a someone



rapped at the door.

"You don't have to knock, you know," she called as she turned, expecting to see Bruce throughthe crack where the door stood ajar.

"I think you've got the wrong man," came the slightly hoarse voice of Coulson as he pushed thedoor further open and ducked his head inside.

"Historically, SHIELD directors don't knock."

"It's just not possible to emulate Fury in every way. Although from personal experience, walkingin on your agents isn't the best way to endear yourself."

Natasha nodded, and Coulson stepped all the way inside, glancing around the suite, before hiseyes settled on her again.

"So, did the meeting tempt you to move back in and put yourself on the roster?"

She looked down at the desk she was standing by, scuffing her fingers over the glass top which

had been cleaned since she moved out. If she was honest, a part of her had felt the call to action-but not the compulsion for atonement which had always been her strongest drive before.

"That circus?" she quipped, meeting Coulson's eye again. "It reaffirmed my decision to retire."

"Can't blame you. It even made me consider it. Audrey would be thrilled."

"Speaking of domestic bliss…" Natasha found herself saying.

They hadn't planned to announce their news today, but if anyone deserved to know why theywere sitting this one out, it was Coulson. That, and Bruce had spontaneously told Aunt Susan, and

damn it, she wanted to tell someone, too. So she told him, briefly, how even though they'dstopped Avenging, they wanted to keep fighting in a new way.

"That's really wonderful." Coulson reached out for her, and as he hugged her added, "One of those days you'll look at these kids and you'll be so amazed at how far they've come. And soproud and grateful that you got to watch it."

Natasha blinked back tears, years of missions and being under his supervision at SHIELD, rightup until they were on the helicarrier before the Chitauri Invasion, flashing through her memory.

"Our home study is next week," she said when he released her.

"Hence no New Year's Eve invite?"

"And probably not exactly the best support for a stable home environment if we tell them wemoonlight hunting down members of a nation-wide cartel."

"It's not long-term employment anyway."

"I hope we're not letting you down," she said.

"Not at all. Those kids are the most innocent victims of the chaos Hydra and Zodiac want tocreate. They still need heroes. If you ask me, you and Banner are taking on the more difficultmission. But one which you're uniquely qualified for."

At his reference to innocent victims in need of heroes, her smile faltered, and she turned back tothe desk. She pictured the shy, sad-eyed little boy she'd seen in Susan Banner's photo albums, in



frames on the walls of her cluttered house, curled up under blankets reading the old CaptainAmerica comics that had gotten his aunts and even his father through the chaos and horror of theirhome.

"Natasha?"

"You know as much about Bruce's unique qualifications as I do, then."

"What do you mean?"

Natasha pressed her lips against the words she wanted to blurt out to her old mentor. She couldn'tunburden herself at the expense of Bruce's privacy, could she? Then again, she was starting to getthe idea his reticence wasn't really about being private at all.

"I mean the Big Guy isn't his biggest monster," she released the words with her breath, "but he'snever once looked me in the eye and told me he watched his own father kill his mother in a fit of rage."

"And you think that's something he needs to do?"

The rolling track of the desk drawer as she opened it seemed loud in the quiet of the room. "Ididn't used to. I thought it was like how I didn't need to talk about what I did for the Red Room,because I dumped it all on the internet. The difference is, I dealt with that. Or I am dealing with it.And Bruce…I feel like I'm going into this mission without a thorough briefing."

Coulson gave her a small, sympathetic smile. "Too many relationships fall apart because someonewon't talk. I watched it happen to May and Andrew. It almost happened to Audrey and me.Before I died."

He contemplated his clasped hands for a moment. The prosthetic fingers were nearlyindistinguishable from the real ones, but Natasha noticed how his right thumb-the real one-unconsciously rubbed the left.

"I was on Project TAHITI," he went on. The one that resurrected him. That was… "Ironic, Iknow," he said, reading her mind. "What I saw made me withdraw, and not just because it wasclassified. Or rather I tried to withdraw, but Audrey wouldn't let me go. Not without a fight. And Idid fight her on it, lest you think I'm insinuating it'll all be neat and tidy."

"You and I have both worked for SHIELD too long to think anything could be neat and tidy,"Natasha replied. "Thanks, Phil."

He wished her good luck, then left. Natasha started to follow, only to glimpse out the corner of hereye that she'd left the desk drawer open. As she moved to shut it, she noticed for the first time itwasn't empty. Opening it further, she saw a bundle of envelopes shoved to the very back.

They were addressed to Bruce.

And sent by Brian Banner.

Chapter End Notes

So sorry for going two weeks between updates without warning! I will most likely be



switching to bi-weekly updates for the sake of my own sanity because I have severalwriting projects going at the moment and a one-week turnaround on chapters is kindof much. Thanks so much for bearing with me and for all your encouragement-especially Magical-Destiny who gave me some inspiration for this chapter, and mybeta reader, Vladnyrki. Hope you enjoy the update, and if you have an extra moment,let me know!



On Paper

Chapter Notes

When I said I was thinking of switching to bi-weekly posting, I didn't mean to golonger than that between updates! RL had other plans, for me and my beta…So this

chapter is overdue, but hopefully well worth the wait. Thanks, as always, tovladnyrki for taking time out of her busy schedule to beta and brainstorm with me.Bruce's mental state in this fic is not an easy one to get into! If you want a goodsoundtrack for this chapter, check out Rachmaninov's Vocalise, the piece referred toin scene two. The tone works for the whole chapter. Also, Bonita Juarez is not anOC, but sort of a Marvel Easter egg. Feel free to google her and try to guess what Ihave planned with her. ;) Enjoy the chapter-and if you do, your feedback is mostwelcome and appreciated.

"I was cleaning Bruce's room after you left, and I came across those-"

"Sorry, Susan, just a sec," Natasha interrupted as Bruce's reflection in the office window cameinto view behind her own. She swiveled in her desk chair to see him standing in the doorway withtwo steaming mugs.

"Sorry," he murmured, shuffling softly on slippered feet into the room. "Didn't mean to interrupt.Just thought you might like a cup of tea. It's so chilly today."

She reached out to take one of the mugs from him, the heat surging through her fingertips to warmher all over. Or maybe it wasn't the tea as much as his thoughtfulness, his disheveled hair andrumpled slacks and sweater combo. Somehow, just looking at him made her feel cozy. Thesemester hadn't begun, so technically he was still off work, but he was catching up on someresearch and writing in his study-slash-lab in the basement. Of course he did proper experimentalresearch in the Cornell labs, which had recently received a generous donation from the Stark Foundation-to the consternation of MIT, who were reluctant to share an alumnus.

He started to go, but Natasha said, "You're not going to go before I thank you, are you?"

Bruce turned around, lips pressed together in one of his quiet chuckles.

"It's not a work call," she said, her face upturned as he bent to brush his lips over hers.

Straightening, Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose. "Are you talking to Aunt Susan? I thought Iheard you say..." He shook his head slightly. "Sorry. That's nosy."

Natasha smiled as she brought her mug to her lips. "If I wanted it to be a secret, it would be."

Even as she said the words, she found herself thinking of the envelopes stacked neatly on the desk behind her, Bruce's name and the name of his father's prison lying face down on the light toned

wood.

"She called me."

His eyebrows went up above the rims of his glasses; Natasha had been as surprised as he was

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVyza9jzw18



when Susan, who avoided the phone as much as possible, had not only called, but not for Bruce.

"Have a nice girl talk then." He stooped to press another kiss to her cheek. "Give her my love-andtell her I'll look forward to her next letter," he added, eyes twinkling.

"Hey," Natasha called before he pulled the door all the way shut, and he poked his head back in."Try to keep your lab from looking like it used to at the Tower, will you? The social worker'sgonna want to see it tomorrow."

At first Bruce stared at her, then he saw her smirk.

"All the adoption blogs say not to worry about the house looking too perfect," he said. "Also bylike it used to at the Tower , I assume you mean like a place where many fires have started ? Allcredit for that goes to Tony."

"Whatever, I've seen your clutter when you research, Doc."

"In that case, maybe I should stay out of the kitchen tonight. I didn't make too big of a mess whenI made the tea, but it might be smart to order in."

"Chinese?"

When he finally ducked out of the office and closed the door all the way behind him, Natashawaited until the creak of the hardwood floor beneath his otherwise padded footsteps recededcompletely before she swiveled back toward the window and the scene of the snowy back yardand frozen lake beyond.

"Sorry about that, Susan," she said, bringing the phone back to her ear. "Bruce was just bringingme tea."

"He's such a sweet man," his aunt replied.

"He is. It really wasn't fair of me to give him grief about being a clutter-bug."

"He comes by it honestly." Susan sounded a little distant, and not just because her voice wascoming over the phone. "As I was saying, I was cleaning the room, and I found those comicbooks. You remember, dear, the Captain America ones I gave him for Christmas?"

Natasha hmmed in reply, the winter landscape blurring as her own reflection, clenching her jawand clutching her phone, came into focus.

"As soon as I saw his reaction I knew I'd made a terrible mistake," Susan went on, "but I didn'tknow what to say. I hope you know I never would've given them to him if I'd known it would beso upsetting. Honestly, I thought it would be a nice bit of nostalgia. He really loved them when hewas a little boy..."

The letters loomed in the foreground now. "It's hard to know how Bruce is going to take this stuff.He's on lockdown about anything to do with his father."

Static crackled through the phone speaker as Susan sighed. "That's how he was as a little boy. Henever would talk about what happened, not to me or to the therapists… " Her voice trailed away,

as though she'd hadn't spoken into the phone, only to come back, louder. "He's never talked toyou about Brian?"

Natasha shook her head. Of course Susan couldn't see. She didn't say no out loud, instead asked aquestion she knew could have no good answer. "Did he talk about him to Betty Ross?"



It came out hoarse. She took a drink of tea, but swallowing hurt.

"I assumed since they were planning to marry and have a family that Bruce had dealt with it. Justlike I assumed was the case when he'd decided to be with you."

Natasha pressed her mug against her chest to absorb some of its warmth. All she felt was the coldhandle against the backs of her knuckles.

"You know," Susan said, "I always thought it was…well, the Hulk that came between Bruce andBetty. Maybe it was really Brian. The unresolved rage…"

Big fan of the way you change into an enormous green rage monster, Stark's voice flitted throughher mind. How did a man like Bruce become that? She'd chocked it up to ramped up aggressionfrom the gamma but there would have to be something in there to ramp up, wouldn't there? Thecycle he'd worked so hard to break catching him anyway.

"Have you had any contact with Brian since he went to prison?" Natasha said into the phone.

"I mentioned music therapy, didn't I?"

"You do music therapy with him?"

"I go to Lima Hospital twice a month and do a music class. I visit Brian. We write."

Write. The word was so close in Natasha's ear that if she couldn't see the office reflected in thewindowpane, she might have turned to see if Susan was standing over her shoulder, looking at theletters from Brian Banner, Lima State Hospital Inmate #968121.

"I'm not saying we're best friends and all is forgiven and forgotten," Susan said. "Can you imagine

your own brother violently killing his wife in front of their little boy?"

Natasha didn't have to imagine herself killing. Couldn't forget. Or forgive.

"I realize that as difficult as it is for me, for Bruce, it's...I suppose since I experienced what Briandid, I understand where he came from. At the same time, I've often wondered how it's possible weturned out so differently. Why he repeated the cycle of abuse. Or maybe it's that I see how easily Icould be the one locked up in a prison for the criminally insane."

"But you made a choice," Natasha said.

"That's right, I did. And so did Brian. And he's still living with the consequences."

Unfortunately, Brian Banner wasn't the only one.

Chinese takeout cartons littered the living room coffee table, but at least the kitchen and diningroom remained pristine for the impending home study. There was no question that Natasha andBruce made a picture of a lived-in home environment facing each other from opposite ends of thesofa, feet in slippers and thick socks tangled together in the middle. A fire crackled in the hearthopposite, heating and providing most of the light in the room. Classical music played softly overthe recessed speakers, an album she'd given Bruce for Christmas: Audrey Nathan performingRachmaninoff's works for cello and piano.

If her recent chat with Coulson hadn't already been on her mind, it would be now.

"What'd Aunt Susan call you about?" Bruce asked around a bite of beef with broccoli.



as well.

"That right there should be a pretty big clue," Bruce muttered, stalking around her to toss theletters into the fire.

Bits of white paper, envelopes and stationery, singed black and curling around the edges,remained with the ashes at the bottom of the fireplace the next day as Bruce bent to add a log to

the fire. His stomach tightened, clutched with a feeling like regret, not because he wanted to knowwhat his father had written to him, but because when he'd turned back from throwing them intothe flames, Natasha had looked as if she'd been burned.

Her voice drifted to him from the kitchen: "Do you take milk or sugar?"

"A little of both, thanks," replied the social worker, who'd arrived a few minutes earlier. Natashahad taken her to the kitchen to make tea while Bruce built up the fire.

He took out the lighter and held it beneath the logs till the kindling and the remnants of the letterscaught the flame. Satisfaction that they would burn completely to ash overrode the regretful

feelings.

He understood why Natasha felt she should give him the letters, truly he did. What he simplycould not fathom was that she'd thought the night before their first adoption home study would bean appropriate time to confront him with a tangible reminder of his own childhood hell.

"I feel warmer already," said the social worker, approaching down the hallway.

What was her name again? Facing the fire, Bruce raked his hand through his hair as he wrackedhis brain to recall the introduction that had been made only moments before. Something Juarez.

Linda? No, it started with a B…Barbara?

"I'm from Albuquerque originally," she said. "It gets pretty cold there, but I haven't reallyacclimated to the long New York winters. Although I probably sound wimpy to a Russian."

"I've been in the States now longer than I lived there," Natasha replied.

"And you're from Ohio, Bruce?"

Still not having remembered her first name, Bruce turned to see Ms. Juarez enter the living roomwith Natasha. They both carried mugs; Natasha had two, one for Bruce, and the brush of their

fingers as he took it from her was the first time they'd touched since she gave him the letters.

"Or would you rather I call you Dr. Banner ? Only I prefer Bonita."

Oh yes, Bonita.

"That's fine," he said. "To call me Bruce, I mean."

She appeared to be in her late thirties, although the lines around her eyes might be more evident of early forties. Then again, that could be her line of work. He knew eyes like that, had avoidedmeeting them when people asked in kind voices whether anyone was hurting him at home.

Bonita's dark ones regarded him for a moment from beneath thick, straight eyebrows, waiting forhim to speak further. He glanced away, the back of his neck prickling, a growl rumbling throughhis mind.

"Bruce is from Dayton," Natasha answered the question he'd forgotten had been asked.



transformed his father's written words to ash. The back and forth movement of Natasha's fingertipssuddenly felt irritating to his skin. He pulled his hand away from her, shoving it in his pantspocket. In his periphery, he saw her look down, and he almost withdrew his hand again and took hers. But he didn't.

"So!" Bonita went on, in a more upbeat tone. "Do you think we could start with a tour of thisbeautiful house?"

Natasha almost eagerly left his side. "We've only bought it last summer, so we're still in that newhomeowner honeymoon stage where we're thrilled to show people around. Aren't we?" Sheglanced over her shoulder at Bruce, who hmmed a vague response.

He trailed behind the women, the rumble of his own thoughts louder than their voices as Natashaplayed tour guide. How could she be so at ease, opening her home, her life, to the scrutiny of astranger with the authority to deem her unfit to fulfil one of their deepest held dreams? Maybe shewas acting-after all, she'd been trained to be and interact with anyone. It was a skill he'd oftenenvied, having always tended toward shyness himself. This went way beyond socialawkwardness, though. It was completely against how he'd been accustomed to living, with doors

closed and windows shuttered.

What was it Natasha had said to him? Sometimes I feel like your doors aren't just shut, they're

locked, and you've thrown away the key.

It had pissed him off then, and it pissed him off again now. It just wasn't fair , when she knewbetter than anyone what it cost to be exposed, and how much more he'd opened to her than he hadto anyone in years.

"This is one of the rooms we've set aside for a kid," he heard her say as she stepped into a guestroom and flicked on the light.

"Or two," Bonita remarked. "This is big."

Probably it seemed bigger because there wasn't much in it: a bed and an empty dresser and abookcase containing some of his favorite childhood books, mainly Hardy Boys mysteries.

"Training them early in the ways of the Force?" Bonita indicating the set of original Star Wars

trilogy posters tacked on one wall.

"Oh, um…" Bruce raked his free hand through his hair. "Those were mine when I was a kid."

"How old were you when the first one came out?"

"'77…Around seven or eight, I guess."

In fact there was no guesswork involved. Susan had taken him, and his connection with theorphaned protagonist who lived with his aunt and uncle had been instantaneous, only deepeningthree years later with the sequel's reveal that Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker's father. By thetime he was thirteen he hadn't been sure what to make of the redemption arc, but Luke's heroic journey despite his dark family legacy had remained inspirational.

Was this the sort of thing they wanted him to open up about? It sounded so maudlin. Not tomention navel-gazey.

"Those don't have to stay up," he muttered, fiddling with the corner of the dresser.

"We hung them because it seemed best to acknowledge up front what huge dorks we are,"



Natasha said, and through his sweater he felt her hand come to rest in the small of his back. Hehated that he tensed.

"All the kids at St. Agnes, where I do most of my placements, are crazy about Star Wars," saidBonita. "Of course a couple of movies might not be quite so impressive considering to the fact thatyou two have fought actual star wars."

"We got to go to the premiere of Episode IX ," Natasha went on. Tony worked it out for them. "In

costume."

She'd been Leia, complete with cinnamon bun wig, while Bruce had opted to be old Jedi Lukebecause he had the beard for it.

"That was mostly so we wouldn't be recognized," he said.

Bonita didn't look like she bought it.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Bruce," she said as they left the room, "but I'm getting a vibe thatmaybe you wish you were in disguise right now. Are you always this quiet, or are you just

nervous?"

Heat flooded his face, and not a flush of embarrassment. "I-"

"You certainly wouldn't be the first person to be," she went on. "It's an invasive process, fromstart to finish, and there's just no way around that. Please try to remember that I'm not here to judge you or any of the skeletons in your closet. I am here to advocate for these kids, and toensure they're placed in the best homes for them. Which I would hope is what you want for them,too, whether that's here or somewhere else?"

"Absolutely," Natasha said, voice creaking.

"Of course," Bruce mumbled.

They'd finished showing her around the house, which Bonita announced meant the end of hervisit.

"Thank you for opening your home to me," she said as she put on her coat in the front hall. "If itmakes you feel any better…" She caught Bruce's eye. "…I really liked what I saw. Especially thatyou have plenty of designated places to do your homework."

"Our homework?" Natasha asked. "Or the kids'?"

Bonita opened her bag on the console table and took out two packets which she handed to each of them. "These are questions that will guide you as you write your autobiography. We'll discussthem over the course of our next few visits, but it can be helpful to reflect on them, even to writeabout them before."

"We will," Natasha said. "We were both exceptional students."

She gave Bruce a gentle nudge with her elbow as he perused the questions, apparently teasing himabout his studiousness.

Describe the family you grew up in… Was there any drug or alcohol dependency in your family

history? If so, how has this affected you?...Describe the discipline and child rearing practices

your parents used.



"I'm sure you were," Bonita said.

Were being the operative word. If there was one thing Bruce was sure of now, it was that he wasgoing to prove far from exceptional.

"The question I want you to think most about is: why do two superheroes want to adopt a child?"



Behind Bars

Chapter Notes


Bruce jumped at her touch.

It had only been the lightest of touches on his shoulder, to let him know she was there with him inhis study-slash-lab, but nevertheless made him jolt and tighten his shoulders.

"Sorry," Natasha said, taking a step back as he pulled off his headphones and swiveled away fromhis computer monitors, blinking up at her blearily behind the lenses of his glasses. "I wasn't tryingto sneak up on you. I did knock and try to get your attention."

"Guess I had the volume up too loud."

She hmmed her agreement, hearing the muffled soprano warble. It was always opera when Bruce

he was most stressed-or when he was coming down from a Hulkout-and their first home visit fromtheir social worker, Bonita Juarez, had definitely been that. He glanced down at the headphones inhis hands, then turned back to his computer to pause the music. Natasha made a conscious effortnot to look at the files open on his screens, focusing instead on the shelf mounted on the wallabove it; their faces grinned down at her from a photo, dressed in matching Captain America t-shirts on the Fourth of July. It had been one of the first times he'd mentioned his childhood to her,even if it was only an oblique reference to watching fireworks in the park with his aunts andcousin, an inferred desire for a normal, loving family.

Despite his reaction to her previous touch, she took the chance it was only that she'd caught him

unawares, not that it wasn't welcome, and placed her hands on his shoulders, massaging herthumbs deep into the base of his neck as he hunched over his desk. He didn't tense-not any morethan he already was-but he didn't relax, either.

"You want to think about dinner soon?" she asked.

"Hungry?"

"I could eat."

Beneath her fingers, Bruce's neck muscles flickered as he turned his head half toward her.

"There's leftover Chinese."

"Only enough for one of us."

"You can have it if you want."

Natasha's hands went still at his implication: he wasn't going to eat with her. Not wanting herdisappointment to show, she made herself resume the massage, although her fingers felt unusuallyweak against the knots.

"You sure?"

"I'm not especially hungry. I want to try and get some more work done."

Bruce had been holed up in his basement work space ever since the home visit. As he returned hisattention to the dual monitors, Natasha's curiosity won out over her respect for his. Her own



appetite diminished as her heart sank even deeper into her belly.

"Writing lectures?"

Bruce nodded. The screen reflected a twist of his lips that was more grimace than grin. "Trying toget organized before the semester starts."

"Good idea, with everything else we have going on."

She let that dangle for a moment as she battled with herself about whether to keep walking oneggshells.

Fuck it, Bruce was the Hulk. There was a time and a place for smashing, they'd proved time andtime again. This was one of those times.

"I got started on my autobiography," she said.

That made Bruce's shoulders tense, so it came as something of a surprise to Natasha when heactually picked up the conversation thread.

"How's it going?"

Natasha released her breath, dug her fingers deep into the tissue along his shoulder blades. "Notbad. Made it through the first section. Easy to answer all those questions about how you wereraised when you weren't."

More than once she'd been tempted to write N/A-brainwashed by former Soviets for the glory of

Mother Russia.

"If you want my help with yours," she went on, "you know I'm-"

"Natasha, why are we doing this to ourselves?"

At first she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. She replayed his voice over in her head until thewords registered, then withdrew her hands from him as he brought his own up to take off hisglasses, pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Family history questions aside," he said, fingering the corner of the home study packet that lay onhis desk, serving as a coaster, "what about that one Bonita left us with?"

"Why do we want to adopt?"

"Why do two superheroes want to adopt." Bruce punched the buttons to shut off his computermonitors and pushed back in his chair, the wheels grinding against the plastic floor protector pad,to stand. He faced her, leaning back against the edge of his desk. "It just feels like a set-up to me.A trap."

Bruce and his fear of cages, though it had been years since anyone had threatened to put him inone, or even on a most-wanted list. If only he could see that he was holding himself captive.

"Obviously she intends for us to realize we see adoption as another form of saving the world," he

said. "Or of redeeming our own pasts, or something like that."

"But that's not why," Natasha protested.

Or was it?



The question gnawed at her as she left him, as she rewarmed the leftover Chinese and ate it fromthe cartons, standing in front of the sink and staring out at the snowy back yard bordered by thesilhouettes of barren trees. Such a wonderful back yard for children, the realtor had said when thetoured the place, and they'd indulged fantasies of looking out at snowmen they built.

Maybe she'd asked too much of Bruce. Maybe she'd pushed him into it. Or maybe he'd simply notrealized the depth of his own issues until the process forced him to dig in.

There was only one way to know for certain.

She dropped the takeout containers in the trashcan under the sink, pulled her phone out of herback pocket, and dialed Susan Banner.

"This isn't your first time visiting a prison, is it?" Susan asked as the Lima State Hospital loomedat the end of the country road, a sprawling facility from the beginning of the previous centurywhich, if only it were on an island, would have made the perfect setting for an asylum horrormovie. Although the contrast of the red brick against the low iron grey clouds and the frostyfarmland in which it stood lent enough of a Gothic appeal.

Relaxing her grip on the steering wheel, Natasha glanced at Bruce's aunt in the passenger seat.

"I mean," Susan went on, "I just assumed, in your…line of work…"

"Which line of work is that?"

As Susan spluttered, Natasha gave in to a slight grin.

"Just giving you a hard time," she said.

Relief washed over Susan's features at not having to say the word assassin. A little shock wentthrough Natasha's chest. Although a number of people knew what her past life had entailed, fewof them were comfortable actually putting a name to it.

"And to answer your question, no." She fixed her eyes on their destination, the black spiral of razor wire just visible at the top of the electrified chain link fence as they came nearer. "It's not thefirst time I've visited a prison."

"Oh good. So you know what to expect."

The whole point of this, in fact, was that Natasha didn't know what to expect, but she understoodwhat Susan meant, and nodded.

For a moment they drove on in silence, then Susan asked, "Have you ever…been in prison? Imean…as an inmate?" Immediately, without giving Natasha a chance to answer, she laughednervously, reaching up to ruffle her hair in back in a gesture she'd seen from Bruce a million times,"I'm sorry, that's incrediblynosy…I don't know what possessed me to even ask-"

"My whole life story's on the Internet."

"Well, I only know how to use Amazon," Susan replied with a smile. "But really, dear, I don't

mean to pry."

"You're not prying," Natasha said. "I don't mind."

She wasn't just being polite; she truly didn't mind Susan asked her questions in the most genuinely



curious way. It was endearing. And the openness made a nice change from how closed-off Brucewas being. The one thing she hadn't asked any questions about was Natasha's phone call sayingshe wanted to come with her on the next visiting day. Not, Bruce isn't coming with you? or Does

Bruce know you're going to do this? or Are you planning to tell him?

"Excluding going under deep cover," Natasha replied, "I've thankfully never been in prison."

Not for any of her own crimes. Hell, she'd never even been arrested for any of them, unless you

counted being brought in by Clint and under Fury's watch till she proved herself reformed andloyal to SHIELD.

"Was it one of those plea bargains? You worked for SHIELD and they dropped the prison term?"

"Something like that." If you substituted automatic death sentence for prison term.

She hadn't thought she'd be meditating on her sins as they drove through the gates to enter theprison complex. Brian Banner had killed one person. What was the Black Widow's body count?

No...it wasn't her first time visiting a prison, but as she stored her handbag and coat in a locker and

held her arms out for a guard to sweep over her with a metal detector, her stomach twisted morenauseatingly than it ever had back then. Susan's familiarity with the facility and its personalitydidn't help matters as they filed down a hallway with the other visitors, fluorescent bulbs flickeringand buzzing overhead, walls painted half sickly green, half dirty cream, linoleum that had oncebeen white now hopelessly yellowed, the typical institutional style of these plays, neither fully aprison nor hospital. In fact it made it all worse that Susan pointed out a common room whichseemed better suited to a nursing home, where she conducted the music therapy session with thepatients, because it made it all seem normal.

This could have been her life. Natasha would rather have been executed by whatever means than

live out her days in a peeling cell with no way to atone for her sins.

Why do we want to adopt? Are we trying to redeem our pasts? She shoved Bruce's voice to theback of her mind as they came to the visitation booths. She definitely wouldn't have been able tobear talking to visitors behind panes of glass. It had been hard enough to face her own reflection inthe mirror. Not that there had been anyone who would have visited her.

They seated themselves on metal stools bolted to the floor. "They're always so cold," Susanmurmured.

A muffled buzz from the other side of the glass signaled the door from the cell block unlocking,

then a guard strode through, followed by shuffling inmates in baggy orange. Susan waved, and atall man with buzzed grey hair nodded in acknowledgment, unable to gesture because of the cuffson his wrists. Dark eyes narrowed on Natasha.

She leaned toward Susan and asked quietly, "Is that one of your music therapy patients?"

"Dear, that's Brian," Susan replied. She went on as Natasha tried not to show her astonishment asBruce's father continued to stare at her in suspicion, "I suppose you didn't expect someone so tall."

Well, no, she hadn't. The slightly hunched posture from the shackles made it hard to tell, but hemust have been over six feet tall. There was a resemblance to Bruce, in the bone structure and thefullness of the lips, the salt and pepper hair that would have been curly if it weren't close cropped,the brown eyes behind the lenses of the dark plastic framed glasses. But it was the utter lack of warmth in Brian Banner's eyes that differentiated him the most from his son, not his height, thehatred in them. Natasha had seen a lot of hateful eyes.



Alarmingly, she remembered the Hulk's eyes when he'd chased her on the helicarrier.

She didn't allow herself to look away from the gaze he kept trained on her. Although the guardreleased Brian's wrists from the chain around his waist, the cuffs were left on, causing him tomove awkwardly to seat himself on the metal stool on his side of the glass and pick up thetelephone receiver.

"Who's this, Susie?" a smoky baritone crackled in her ear.

"Brian, this is…" Susan hesitated, casting a sidelong glance at Natasha, unsure of how tointroduce her.

"I'm Natasha Romanoff," she introduced herself.

Brian scuffed the thumb of the hand not holding the phone over the silvery stubble on his chin." Romanoff . There's something familiar about you. Where have I see you, Ms. Romanoff ? Couldn'thave been when I was outside. You're too young." A puff of static might have been a laugh,though there was no amusement in his eyes. "You're too young to have even been born when Iwas out."

"Natasha is Bruce's partner," said Susan.

" Bruce's partner…"

The way he growled Bruce's name had roughly the same effect on Natasha as nails on ablackboard. She sat rigid on the stool, refusing to allow the shudder to ripple down her spine.

"Partner ," Brian repeated. "In business? In crime?" His lips stretched apart, baring his teeth in themockery of a grin.

"We have worked together," Natasha said, "but Susan's referring to a domestic partnership."

"In my day we called that shacking up. You know Susie won't even tell me where my son livesnow?" Brian's eyes swung toward his sister, heavy-lidded and accusatory. The thumb continuedto rasp over his beard. "Says that's his story to tell. The problem is, he hasn't told it. Never visits.Never even writes."

"Is that why you stopped writing to him?" Natasha asked, impulsively.

For a moment, Brian continued to stare at Susan, brows knitting together in confusion, only to

draw apart again as he turned his head slowly back toward Natasha.

"I did send him letters at that Avengers Tower. That's where I know you from." His wrist twistedagainst the cuff as he pointed his index finger at her. "You're an Avenger. Which one are you?"

"The Black Widow."

"And what's your special ability, my dear?"

That she could think of at least a dozen ways to murder him right now, glass and guards bedamned, and escape, without breaking a sweat.

Apparently not really caring for an answer, or already knowing it, Brian said, "With a name likethat, I guess I should worry for my boy's premature demise. Though from what I understand, he'sdamned near impossible to kill. Pretty hard to believe, if you knew what a pathetic little pussy hewas."



"Brian!"

He ignored his sister's outburst, leaned over the table in front of him toward the glass, as thoughdaring Natasha to react the same way. Locked up forty years, and he was still the bully, theabuser, using his body language to intimidate even though he was shackled and separated fromthem by shatterproof glass. She stared back, drawing slow, deep breaths, refusing even to blink.

Abruptly, he sat back, cuffs clinking as he shifted the phone to the other ear. "Then again, I

always knew there was something wrong with Bruce. That the world would see him someday forthe freak he is. Didn't I, Susie?"

In the fluorescent light, tear streaks shone on her cheeks. "For God's sake, he's your son. And agood man."

"The Harlem Terror…Johannesburg…Asgard…They call me a monster, and I only killed oneperson."

"Your own wife," Natasha said. "Bruce's mother."

Brian's eyes locked with hers. "Yes."

"Do you regret it?"

Again, that look of confusion, the furrow above the bridge of his nose that made her think of theHulk. He cradled the telephone receiver in the crook of his neck, freeing up his hands toawkwardly remove his glasses.

"I admit it," he said. "I accept my punishment for it."

"Those aren't the same things."

"My genius son loves you for your mind, eh?"

Brian made a show of sweeping his eyes considerably downward from her face, and Susan madea sound of disgust as he leered. Natasha's gaze, however, was on his hand, watching the tendonsflex across his white knuckles as his fist tightened around his glasses until they snapped like atwig. Although they were already broken, he continued to squeeze them as he went on, a veinbulging in his temple.

"The only thing I regret is that I didn't kill that little freak, too, while there was still a chance. Then

they'd all be calling me an Avenger. Saving the world from monsters, isn't that right?"

Blood squeezed between his fingers, a droplet falling onto the stainless steel table as suddenly heunfolded like a six-foot jackknife and lunged. Susan cried out as she and Natasha reflexively leaptback from the telephone receiver he swung at the partition, even though they both knew it wasunbreakable and two guards dragged him back before he could strike twice. Wrestling themakeshift weapon from him proved more of a challenge as he curled his big frame around andbellowed into it, voice audible through the two receivers the women had dropped, swinging bytheir cords.

"Get away from him while you have the chance, Black Widow! Monsters are the Banner family'sonly legacy!"

A distant groan, buckling metal underscored by the brief grind of a motor, reached Bruce's ears ashe lay in bed. The garage door opening. He turned his head on the pillow, squinting to read the



dim green glow of the digital clock without his glasses. 12:36, and Natasha was finally home.

He didn't get up, just lay there, breathing into the pillow, listening.

Car tires squeaked on the cement floor. The engine rumbled, then it died. A door thumped, thenanother, followed by the garage door gain, shutting with a resonant boom. They needed to havesomeone out to look at that.

"JEEVES, remind me in the morning to call a garage door person," he spoke into the dark.

"Would you like me to compile a list of recommendations, Dr. Banner?" intoned the AI. "I couldrank them based on customer reviews."

"Sure. Thanks."

"And I've informed Ms. Romanoff you retired to bed. "

"Great."

Bruce still didn't move to get up. He watched the blur of the alarm clock shift as the minutespassed without Natasha coming to their room. He pictured her taking her boots off in themudroom, hanging up her coat and scarf, padding virtually silently through the kitchen in her sock feet to glance at the mail on the bar, fill a glass of water for her bedside table. In case she woke upin the night with the urge to make a huge mess, she'd joked ever since she read it in an Onion

headline that had tears of laughter streaming down both their faces.

They hadn't shared much laughter the past few days. They hadn't shared much of anything at all,even meals, as Bruce made excuses to be out of the house, mostly that he needed to use theuniversity library and labs. Natasha hadn't told him about plans to be out today, but her car wasn'tin the garage when he got home earlier that evening. He'd made himself a grilled cheese sandwichand a bowl of tomato soup, watched TV and tried not to think about the fact that she hadn't left anote or texted about her whereabouts, but his stomach had tied itself into such a knot that thingshad come to this between them that he hadn't been able to eat more than a few bites.

It was still there now, or maybe it was hunger. He'd almost talked himself into getting out of bed,going to the kitchen to make them both tea and cinnamon toast and to talk things out, when thedoor handle turned, followed by the creak of hinges as Natasha opened it just far enough to stepthrough, then pushed it closed behind her.

Bruce didn't move, didn't breathe, not pretending to be asleep, but listening for signs of her

coming further into the room. The clock emanated just enough of a glow that he could make outher silhouette standing there while her eyes adjusted to the dark.

"You're home," he said.

His voice put her into motion, a quiet clicking sound indicating she'd brought her cup of water, icerattling against the glass. He tracked her form around the foot of the bed to the bathroom on theopposite side of the room. "I was getting worried."

"You never called."

There was a faint echo as she stepped into the bathroom, but what got Bruce was the pinchedquality of her voice in addition to the usual rasp. Not accusatory, exactly, though it did put him onthe defensive. She hadn't called, either. If she was waiting for him to make the first move…

He rubbed his palms over his face, rubbing his eyes before he raked his fingers through his hair,



tugging hard at the roots as the pain in his scalp relieved the pressure. Natasha didn't play games.

"I figured if you left without saying anything it was for a reason," he replied. "You needed somespace."

Natasha said nothing. He heard a drawer open, and then the buzz of her electric toothbrush for thenext two minutes. She left the light off the entire time she brushed her teeth and washed her face.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she stood at the foot of the bed and said, "I looked a manin the eyes today and wanted to kill him in cold blood."

Jesus. Heart racing as if it had just been defibrillated out of arrest, Bruce sat up and flicked on thebedside lamp. Blinking against the brightness, he was slightly relieved to see Natasha was notwearing her Black Widow uniform, though she was all in black-a leather blazer over black jeans.In one hand she held her water glass.

Nevertheless, he said, "I heard about some energy weapon in Chicago. Some of the team wereinvolved. You weren't…?"

Hollows appeared beneath her cheekbones as she pressed her lips together. "Of course not. Weretired so we can live a normal life and start a family."

She turned away, trudged to the seating area in front of the bay window, and Bruce silently cursedhimself for insinuating that she'd gone behind his back. Still, she'd gone somewhere today, donesomething that made her sink onto the armchair as though pressed down by a physical weight onher shoulders. He ought to get up and go to her, comfort her, but he couldn't seem to make theconnection between his brain and his body.

"Just…you talked about wanting to kill a man. What was I supposed to think?"

Her eyes flicked up to him, a flash of green. "That you're in love with a killer. I've assassinatedmen, women, children, none of whom deserved to die. I never asked questions. I just did what Iwas paid to do."

"What you were made to do."

Bruce rubbed his eyes again, pressing the heels of his hands into the sockets. Where was thissudden onset of guilt coming from? Had the adoption autobiography gotten to her at last? Hishand fell away from his face, and he sank back against his pillow. God, this had been such afucking horrible idea. All the progress they'd made together, undone in a few hours with a social

worker. Go directly to Jail…Do not pass Go…Do not collect $200...

"You never did read my files on the web, did you?"

The pillowcase rustled as Bruce shook his head. "That's your story to tell."

When she didn't reply, he looked over and saw her hunched like The Thinker. With Herculeaneffort, he scooted across the bed, swung his legs over the edge, and stood in front of her chair.

"Natasha…" He wasn't sure what to say. He reached out, touched her cheek as she sat with herchin on her fist. She leaned into his palm, then tilted her face up to him.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...If I expected you to open up about your past, I should havebeen more open about mine."

"You don't need to. I don't need to know all the details of what you've done."



second chair as it shattered on the hardwood floor. For a moment they both stared at the mess,then Bruce lurched past her, stumbling over the ottoman as his control over his body slippedaway.

"I have to go out for a bit. I can't be here right now."

Chapter End Notes

A/N: I almost feel I should apologize for the extreme angst of this chapter, but Iwon't, because I'm an angst fiend and I've been looking forward to writing thischapter for a long time. ;) These were actually the scenes that inspired the whole fic!If you need cheering up, go eat some leftover Valentine chocolate if you've got anyand read Will (MC)U Be Mine?, co-authored with my faithful beta reader, vladnyrki.And if you don't hate me for the way I introduced Brian Banner, I'd love yourfeedback! (Even if it is just to say what a monster he is. ;)) Thanks to everyone

following this fic, and as my writing schedule has settled a bit, I should be gettingback to more frequent posting for the remainder of the fic. (We're over halfway there,I think!)




Take Me Back To the Start

The client chairs were too low for the desk, giving Bruce the distinct feeling as he peered slightlyupward to make eye contact with the woman seated behind it that he was a kid in the principal'soffice. It didn't help that he associated visits to the principal with social workers. He'd never been atroublemaker at school, yet the trouble at home always seemed to follow him there, in the form of

concerned teachers who never failed to notice when he showed up with suspicious bruises andeven more suspicious excuses for how he acquired them.

"How's the autobiography going?" asked Bonita Juarez. "Have you had a chance to begin?"

"Some," Natasha replied, the monosyllable hoarse.

Bonita looked to Bruce. He shifted in his chair. Uncrossed his legs, then re-crossed them again,the other leg on top this time. Bent to scratch his ankle where it rested on his knee and his slacksrode up. His gaze flickered out the windows behind her to the red brick high rise across the street,a typical Manhattan view.

"Honestly," he replied as he sat back again, "I've been spending most of my time preparinglectures for the semester. Classes resume on Monday."

Evading social workers' questions came naturally to him--See, Natasha? It's not just you--and hehad a feeling Bonita was probably as accustomed to being on the receiving end of the tactic as hewas to using it. However, she gave an understanding nod and picked up the latte they'd broughther from Blue Spoon, a coffee shop a couple blocks away, which felt so much like bribery.

"What do you teach?"

"Um…" Bruce hadn't expected her to be conversational. "A few senior-level biochem courses,and I'm teaching graduate level seminars on high energy particle physics."

Bonita sipped her coffee, then looked to Natasha. "Was that English?"

"We have some communication difficulties from time to time," she replied without smiling, andBonita's faded, too, as she set down her coffee and clasped her hands on her desk.

She'd had a manicure since their last home study, Bruce noticed, black with red, orange andyellow flames extending downward from the tips. "Beware," she said, noticing his stare, "some of

the girls at St. Agnes are aspiring nail technicians."

"That would save us some money," Natasha said, not quite injecting humor into her voice. "I'mreferring to Bruce's trips to the salon."

Was that in reference to the beard? He curled his fingers around the arm of his chair, reining in theimpulse to rub his hand over his chin.

"The autobiography's proving difficult for you," Bonita stated, rather than asked."Congratulations-- you're just like everybody else who's ever gone through the adoption process."

"Does everybody reach this point and want to put the brakes on the whole thing?" Natasha asked.

Smile returning, small, sympathetic, Bonita replied, "I wouldn't say everybody, but some do. Theinvasiveness of the questions can make you feel like it, but truly we're not out to weed out theunsuitable."



"Isn't that exactly what you're out to do?" Bruce blurted out.

Bonita raised her eyebrows. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha's hand start to move, as if to reach out for his hand, only to curl around her armrest instead.

They hadn't touched since she'd reached out to him and he'd jerked away from her, shattering aglass of water in the process. Only on accident, if they happened to bump each other in bed. Hedidn't know whether he was relieved or not that she refrained again now. The only thing he wascertain of was that he hadn't felt this much distance between them when he was in space.

The lapse in conversation stretched, and the itch began to claw its way up the edges of hisshoulder blades again as the small sounds of the office assaulted him--the tick of the wall clock behind them, the intermittent knocking in the radiator, the muted blare of horns from the trafficoutside. He hadn't actually transformed when he'd walked out of the house, but he had been in astate of sensory overload ever since Natasha told him about her trip to Ohio.

Finally, Bonita said, "There's no rush on the home study process. We want our adoptive parents tobe as ready as they possibly can be. However long it takes them to get there."

That was the point. Bruce wasn’t sure how much longer he could contain this.

"We're in over our heads," Natasha said. "Our past traumas…"

Bruce's shoulders cinched so hard that they began to ache.

Thankfully, she abandoned the dangling thought, changing tacks when she spoke again. "It feelslike this process has undone a lot of the progress we made in functioning normally."

"May I suggest you adjust your language?" Bonita said. "Instead of normal or not, refer to it as

functioning in a healthy way? You're not abnormal."

Bruce let out a sharp bark of a laugh. "I don't know what your definition of abnormal is, when oneof us turns into a big green monster." He felt Natasha frowning at him. "But I would agree aboutthe status of our current relationship health."

He glanced over at her, hoping to convey that at last they'd found a point of agreement, but whenhe saw her fold her arms across her chest, hunching in on herself, he wished he hadn't looked orspoken.

Bonita's chair creaked as she tilted back so she could open a desk drawer and see its contents."The adoption process can strain the healthiest of relationships. That's why I often recommendseeing a couples' therapist anyway. I'll give you the number of one I highly recommend."

She slid the drawer shut and pushed a business card across the desk. This, too, felt like anexperiment. Which of them would reach for it first, and thus demonstrate greater concern about thestate of their relationship?

They did at the same time, hands brushing. Natasha looked up at Bruce, green eyes bright withemotion as her gaze held his for a moment. Then she withdrew her hand, leaving Bruce to take thecard.

As he pocketed it without looking at the therapist's name, Bonita spoke again:

"You don't have to work through the questionnaire in order. If you get stuck on a question, moveon to something else and come back to it later. Like taking an exam," she added, looking at Bruce.



Discouraged wasn't exactly the feeling. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, the collar of his shirtitching.

"We don't have to continue this meeting," Bonita went on, "or schedule our next one."

"I'm not sure you understand," Bruce began. "I meant--"

"But I won't close your case," she said over him. "It would be a shame to have gotten this far and

have to start over."

"People just keep bringing up marriage at the wrong time," Natasha said as they exited the officebuilding after the meeting.

Bruce didn't respond except to grunt, which might just as easily have been at the cold as hercomment. He turned up the collar of his coat, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and startedup the street. Natasha didn't question his decision not to hail a cab, didn't signal for one herself.

Just fell into step with him as though she understood his need to move in the open air, no matterhow bracing it was. Maybe she'd felt constrained, too. She looked it, arms crossed, huddledagainst the cold. Or it could've been that she didn't know what to do with her hands when one of them wasn't twined together with his.

"The thing is," she went on before he could convince himself to sleep his hand out of his pocketand take hers, "I'm starting to wonder if there will ever be a right time for it. Kind of like howthere's never a right time to talk about your father."

"Natasha--"

Bruce caught himself just before he said, Not now, not here in the middle of Manhattan, whichwould have proved her point. He puffed out a breath, watched the roll of the steam in the air.

"Nobody bugs Tony about marrying Pepper," he muttered.

"Tony being monogamous is more than anyone ever hoped for."

Another huff, this time a chuckle. "Fair point."

Silence lapsed as they came to a red light, where a crowd waited for the signal to change, and he

hoped she'd drop the subject. As soon as they crossed to the other side of the street and theirwalking speed dropped to a more leisurely pace, Natasha resumed it.

"When Susan asked if we had marriage plans, you said it made you feel like she was questioningyour commitment to me."

"It did," Bruce said. "And that's how Bonita made me feel today. Did you not?"

Natasha's shoulder brushed his with her shrug. "It's kind of a fair question. We bought a housetogether. We're planning to adopt. Why not get married? Is it a cage? Something that makes itharder to run away?"

Bruce stopped dead on the sidewalk, only vaguely registering that the person walking behind himbarreled into him and swore. "You think I'm going to run?"

Natasha had stopped, too, turned back to him. "You walked out on me in the middle of a



conversation the other night. Not that it was much of a conversation."

"You went behind my back!" His hands came out of his pockets, gesturing with splayed palms.

"Is that unforgivable? Did I fuck this up for good?"

The rapid blink of her eyes might have been because of the wind that whipped against her face,but there was no mistaking the tremor in her voice. Her arms were still folded over her chest, only

now it seemed like a protective gesture. Some of the heat went out of Bruce's flaring temper. Hesighed, heavily, raked his fingers back through his hair to stop it flapping in the wind.

"I don't…No."

"You don't know?"

"No, I mean no, N-O." His hand fell to his side, and he took a small step closer to her. "Look, Iknow you meant well, it's just…I need you to be on my side in this."

Natasha looked at him in disbelief. "Bruce, I'm always on your side. How could you ever think

I'm not? We're a team."

A team. Bruce's gaze drifted past her, over the tops of the high rises to one of the skyscraperstowering over the city, the gigantic A of the Avengers Tower illuminated against the backdrop of January clouds though it was early afternoon.

Turning to see what he was looking at, Natasha said, "Surely if you learned anything from beingan Avenger, it's that teammates don't always see everything the same way."

"Hey, I wasn't here for the Civil War," Bruce quipped.

A howling gust of wind around a corner sent them into motion again, though not quite as rapidlyas his thoughts.

"Do you think Bonita could be wrong about starting over?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He gestured up at the Tower. "Maybe that's exactly what we need to do."

Had the uniform always felt this tight? No, not tight, exactly. Stiff. Restrictive. Ill-fitting. Thesecond the quinjet touched down on the helicarrier, Natasha unstrapped herself and stood.

"Hey!" came Stark's voice from the cockpit as he piloted the grounded jet into the hangar. "I didn'tturn off the seatbelt sign."

Natasha continued to tug at her catsuit where it had bunched up uncomfortably around her thighsduring the flight, while Jessica Jones watched with a smirk.

"Too much retirement?"

Not enough retirement. Natasha did her best to let the thought roll off her back as she rotated hershoulders to loosen the clinging fabric around her arms.

Mirroring Jess' expression, she replied, "More like too much of Bruce's holiday baking."



A glance showed him to be fidgeting, too, though not necessarily because he was self-consciousin the Hulkout-proof stretchy pants Tony had dubbed "broga pants" back in the day.

"Don't pay any attention to her, Bruce," he said as he came to the rear of the jet, now parked in thehangar. "Those pants do not make your ass look big."

Bruce had gotten so used to this sort of comment that he barely reacted, and even the

accompanying swat on the butt Tony gave as he strode past to punch the bay door control didn'tseem to phase. His jaw did tighten almost imperceptibly as the doors creaked apart, the lower oneforming the boarding ramp. Natasha couldn't help but recall the first time she'd watched him boarda helicarrier, when he'd been a state of constant hand-wringing as he dodged pilots andtechnicians, looking as bewildered as if he'd stumbled into a hive of worker bees. Today he wasno less tense, but she didn't detect anxiety at its root. He was the one who'd suggested puttingthemselves back on the Avengers roster, after all.

Phil Coulson stood at the bottom of the ramp to meet the Avengers team: Stark, Jessica and LukeCage, Thor, and of course Bruce and herself.

"When I saw your name on the roster," Coulson said as she disembarked, "I thought it must be amistake."

Once again Natasha had to put conscious effort into tamping down the emotion that swelled whenshe remembered the last conversation they'd had about staying in retirement and confronting thepast, when she saw the unspoken question in his eyes as his gaze flickered briefly away from herto Bruce.

"Who can resist the siren call of a villain who wears ram horns and wields energy weapons?" shequipped, referring to the Zodiac leader responsible for the recent attack in Chicago.

Jess gave a snort, but Thor spoke gravely. "When I first saw him, I thought he was of Asgard."

"That was Aries," Coulson said. "This time we've got Cancer in Houston, complete with crabclaws."

"Zodiac's taking their theming way too far," said Cage.

"What'll it be next?" Jess asked. "Siamese twins in Minneapolis-St. Paul?"

"Um, one, conjoined twins is the more PC term," Tony said. "Two, God I hope not, Minnesota in

January?" A full-body shiver rippled down him. "And three, crab claws, mmmm." He closed hiseyes, looking practically orgasmic. "I could really go for seafood. Houston has a seafood scene,right?"

"Not like it used to, thanks to the oil spills and the terrigen," answered Coulson, who once upon atime would have been annoyed at Stark's interjections. "But we could hop across the bay to NewOrleans to celebrate a job well done."

"What is the job?" asked Bruce. No, he definitely wasn't anxious, Natasha thought, except in thesense that he anticipated this mission. Her stomach twisted, but she tried to focus on the matter athand.

"Agent Mackenzie will brief you all," he said, and directed the team to the command deck wherethe deputy director was waiting to brief them.

"The mission's kind of a twofer," Mack began when they were all seated around the gleaming



dark conference table.

"Thanks, Zodiac, for your plan to dominate the world at bargain prices," Tony said, swiveling hischair like a kid at his father's desk.

Giving him the tolerant of look eerily reminiscent of Coulson, Mack went on with his briefing.Just like in Chicago, Zodiac had targeted the Port of Houston in what they could only assume tobe a play to control shipping. Unlike in Chicago, the exports in question were volatile, given the

Bay Area dealt primarily in oil and petrochemicals.

"You know," Tony interrupted again, examining his fingernails, "if everyone was using cleanenergy and driving electric cars, we could not only go out for seafood in Houston, we alsowouldn't be dealing with this little attempt at world economic domination…"

"Was this ad paid for by Tesla?" Bruce said.

Tony gaped at him, offended. "Are you accusing me of being in the pocket of a corporation?Besides my own?"

"How does Pepper feel about your shameless promotion of Tesla when you skipped out on thepress conference about SI's new clean reactor?"

Huffing, Tony leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. "Gave me the self-driving car," hemuttered into his hand.

Bruce actually met Natasha's eye as his mouth curled in a small, satisfied grin.

"Look," Jess cut in, "I get that you guys are used to pre-battle banter or whatever, but once againlet me remind you we're paying for a sitter."

"What does Squirrel Girl charge?" Tony mused. Jess leveled him with a glare, and his hands shotup. "Just think of all the money you're saving with these two missions for the price of one! Thesecond one being…?" He looked to Mack, though Natasha had a feeling that was more to avoidJess' deepening glower than anything.

"Johnson Space Center," Mack answered, looking relieved to get back on track. Beside him,Coulson just looked relieved not to be the one responsible for this briefing. "They've infiltrated theAstromaterials Research Office, which supports our theory that the Zodiac Key didn't originate onearth."

"That's what we've taken to calling the ankh," Thor attempted to whisper to Bruce, whose jawmuscle flickered again.

"Forgot to pack my lab coat," he said.

If Natasha didn't know better, Bruce sounded almost disappointed. Of course, that they were hereat all proved she didn't know him as well as she'd thought.

"You won't be needing it," Coulson said. "I'd hoped you packed for a Code Green."

"I told him those pants were very flattering," Tony said.

"Agents Fitz and Simmons will have the science covered, given their past experience with thiskind of thing," Mack added. "After we've worked out our plan of entry, we'll need someone tocover them getting into JSC--" He looked at Natasha. "--but we'll more than likely need the BigGuy ready for action down at the ship channel."



They weren't going to be teamed up? The knot in Natasha's stomach tightened. Well, they hadn’tbeen much of a team lately, had they? Ironically, Bruce looked the most relaxed he had since thehome study.

"Because that's the other thing," Mack said. "They've commandeered the USS Texas."

"The Navy battleship?" Natasha asked. "Isn't that a museum?"

"Not anymore."

Coulson added, "Our intel leads us to believe it'll soon be fully armed and operational, as theysay."

"Star Wars, Phil, really?" Tony shook his head.

"Understanding Star Wars references, Stark, really?" Jess said, and he scowled.

"Speaking Bruce's language," Natasha joked, lamely.

At least somebody was.



Battleship, Sunk

"My. You certainly made that look effortless," said Jemma Simmons in the way that madeNatasha think she ought to be standing on the set of Downton Abbey rather than in the hallway of NASA's Astromaterials Research and Exploration Sciences building, surrounded by a dozen or sounconscious Zodiac operatives. "You're even more efficient than Bobbi Morse. Wouldn't you

agree, Fitz?"

He nodded, but Natasha only huffed an acknowledgment as she holstered her batons. Despiteappearances, it hadn't felt effortless or efficient. She rolled her shoulders, aware once again of thesnugness of her suit. Violence hadn't relieved her tension at all; she'd actually broken a sweat. Agemust be catching up with her. More likely, it was the mental energy of trying to stay focused onher objective while Bruce would soon be out there with his own.

Before her thoughts could linger there, she drew her gun and continued down the hall, beckoningwith a jerk of her head for Fitz and Simmons, each armed with icers, to follow. Although they

moved quickly, she considered each step, scarcely blinking to ensure she missed nothing, whenTony's voice crackled over the commlink.

"'kay. The civilians are safe, thanks to our dynamic duo distracting Crablegs."

"The evac's complete? Already?" Mackenzie's deep tones didn't entirely mask his surprise.Natasha glanced at the watch embedded in her left gauntlet; it had been quick. "You're sure?"

"He's sure." That was Jessica Jones-one half of the aforementioned duo. The other, her husband,added, "Stark's doing a final scan of the monument and battleship, but yeah. Iron Legion's got 'emall."

The civilians were tourists-because of course the defunct battleship Cancer had weaponized wasmoored in a historic park. San Jacinto was the decisive battlefield in the Texas Revolution,Coulson, the history buff, felt was crucial information to include in his briefing. Before Thor andHulk disarmed the USS Texas, the team had to clear hostages out of it, the battlegrounds, and thetowering monument that was taller than the Washington Monument and presided over the site likea limestone Christmas tree, complete with a 220-ton star on top. Because everything really was

bigger in Texas.

"They'll definitely remember the Alamo," Tony said.

"Maybe stick to referencing battles with less disastrous outcomes?" Bruce suggested, and Natashagrinned slightly.

"Is there a film about this war?" asked Thor.

"Starring John Wayne," Coulson joined the conversation. "Bruce, are you ready to suit up?"

"More like dress down," Tony said.

Bruce hadn't transformed yet when Natasha left for Johnson Space Center with Fitz and Simmons;

Coulson might trust his control enough to send him on a mission, but no one, especially not Bruce,felt comfortable with the idea of setting the Hulk loose on the helicarrier. Although she hatedherself for it, Natasha didn't share Coulson's confidence in his control. She shoved the thoughtaside as she picked up the pace leading the two scientists to the lab, along with what washappening on the other end of the now silent comms as Bruce Hulked out.



Transparent fingers swept his hair back from his forehead, lashing his skin and making his eyeswater as Bruce stepped alongside Thor in front of the helicarrier's yawning bay door. Below,through the wisps of pollution which they thankfully couldn't smell from up here, he saw thesmokestacks of the oil refineries that produced it, the indiscernible forms of Tony, Jessica Jones,and the Iron Legion hovering around the San Jacinto Monument like bees at a blossom, the whitecolumn's star-shaped shadow dark against the lawn, the World War II battleship Texas moored inthe brown inlet of the bay like a toy boat in a rain puddle.

Gripping Mjölnir in one hand, Thor settled his free hand on Bruce's shoulder and said, voice foronce not quite booming due to the roar of the wind and the helicarrier's engines-or maybe it wasthe roar in his own head—"Are you ready, my friend?"

"Readier than I've ever been."

As Bruce unzipped his track jacket, he felt Thor looking down at him. He tried to shrug it off along with the hoodie he handed to Mackenzie, but it only made him think of the expressionNatasha had been watching him with ever since he suggested they re-join the Avengers. The way

her eyebrows pulled together, furrowing in between, and her voice buckled when she spoke tohim before her departure for Johnson Space Center.

I'll come as soon as you need me, she'd said, as though she was certain he would need a lullaby tocome back. He, or the Other Guy, bristled at that, and he'd found himself unable to say anythingmore to her than, Be safe. From what, exactly, he couldn't say. When she brushed her lips overhis, he only managed to give her a peck in return before she withdrew, though he'd wanted to pullher into his arms again, kiss her deeply to show her he loved her and understood-or wished hecould understand-why she'd done what she had.

The part of him that didn't want these things, that couldn't understand anything but anger and

aggression, was stronger.

"All right," said Mackenzie. "On my mark."

Bruce stepped forward, toes at the edge, and Thor followed suit.

"Three…two…"

"ONE," Bruce shouted, in a voice too deep and rumbling to be his own, more thunderous eventhan Thor's, and leapt out of the helicarrier.

"Damn it, Banner, that was supposed to be my mark!" Mack's voice hissed in his commlink.

"Oops," Hulk replied.

His grin made the unused muscles in his cheeks feel like they were tearing apart like the t-shirt thatshredded as pectorals and biceps bulged from Banner's pale skin, now tinged green and darkeningto a more vivid hue. It was a good feeling, though the thought of Banner made the smile fall. Hulk had wanted to break free for days now, but Banner held him back, like a dog on a leash. NowHulk was free, falling toward the little boat below in the muddy water.

The grin came back. Falling from that height, at this speed, would make a big splash. Hulk almostgrabbed his knees and tucked them to his chest, imagined himself yelling, Cannonball! He lookedsideways at Thor, flying head-first pulled by his magical hammer. Hulk's friend, now. They coulddo cannonballs together, splash more. But then Hulk saw the serious look on Thor's face, andmirrored it as he remembered. Hulk and his friend weren't here to make big splashes. They were



here to smash. That was good too.

Faster and faster they fell, the deck of the boat got closer and closer, and Hulk braced for impact.The metal deck made a very noisy clank as it crumpled beneath his feet. A boom when Thor'shammer hit it. Like playing with Mommy's pots and pans in the kitchen. Hey! Knock it off with all

that racket! You're giving me a goddamn migraine. Didn't you hear me? SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Hulk growled, looked around for the bad man who hurt puny Bruce.

Instead, he saw a crab skittering across the deck as the ship rocked. Waves poured over the sides.Smash and splash.

"You sunk my battleship!" buzzed a voice in his ear. Tony.

Hulk chuckled. He knew that game.

"Ha!" Thor laughed, too, but not at the Battleship joke. As the ship bobbed, water covering theirfeet up to their ankles, he looked up at Hulk. "You owe me fifty dollars, Stark! Banner's alter egosports a magnificent beard."

He did? Hulk ran his hand over his chin. Hair prickled and tickled. He snorted.

"Prove it," Tony said. "Text me a pic."

"Hell no, you two better not be texting in the middle of a mission!" said Mack, but Hulk didn'tthink Thor and Tony heard him.

"Say cheese," Thor told Hulk.

He said cheese but forgot to smile, surprised Thor had a phone. He was still blinking from theflash when he heard Tony again.

"Damn! You have PayPal, right?"

"I can't believe you people ever saved the world," Mack muttered.

"Well, we did, and we looked good doing it," Tony said. "Big Guy, you never looked morehandsome. What do you think, Romanoff?"

"Very distinguished," she said, but she didn't sound like she meant it. Hulk didn't know what shemeant anymore. "Maybe less chit-chat and more taking out those weapons and finding CaptainCrabby Pants so Bruce can come back?"

Hulk batted at his ear with the annoying thing in it. He didn't want to hear Tasha talk aboutbringing Banner back. Banner's turn had lasted too long, and Hulk had only come out to play. Hedid like the sound of smashing cannons and the Crab Man.

But Tony agreed with Tasha.

"Yeah," he said. "Bruce and I have a lot of scientific experimentation to do on why Hulk got abeard to match the drapes, but not the chest carpet."

Natasha deleted the pic and turned her attention from her watch screen to the door at the end of thehall.

"Do you all have smart watches integrated into your suits?" Fitz panted behind her.



"Stark thought they'd be useful. Mostly they exist for him and Thor to abuse our texting privilegessending selfies."

To Cap's eternal frustration. At least that was the only thing they were fighting about these days.Or the main thing.

"Can you really blame Thor?" asked Simmons, breathless not just from running.

"I wouldn't mind seeing Hulk with a beard," Fitz replied.

It wasn't that Natasha hadn't been curious about whether Hulk would keep Bruce's beard when hetransformed, or that she didn't appreciate the comic relief when he actually had, but she had a newappreciation for Bruce's point of view when everyone around him seemed to treat the Hulk lightly,while he was just afraid of what the Other Guy would do. In this case, she was more afraid of how easily he'd transformed. How willingly.

They arrived at the lab door, and Natasha stepped aside, standing sentry while Fitzsimmons wentto work. They had an access key card, but as expected Zodiac had hijacked the system to keepofficial NASA personnel out. Of course they had a Plan B, which scanned the room for body heat

signatures as it unlocked the door. Then it was Natasha's turn again, entering head of the scientiststo make sure they weren't ambushed by whomever, or whatever, waited them inside.

There was something, according to the scan, but Natasha couldn't find it as she made her roundsof the room which, despite state-of-the-art computers and instruments, still bore traces of the1970s. Even with the previous decade's rash of alien invasions, government-funded scienceagencies still didn't get the funding the military ones did, and didn't compare with Stark-fundedlabs. A stool at the edge of the room, not beneath a desk, directed her eyes upward to an air vent.Spotting the missing screws, she raised her gun.

"Ventilation system," she said with a glance at Fitz, who'd stepped cautiously halfway through thelab door.

Simmons' scream ricocheted off the hallway walls, and Natasha pivoted just in time to see hercrouched on the floor, broken bits of ceiling tiles raining down, and a figure running away, whitelab coat streaming behind him.

"I've got an operative on the move!" Natasha shouted into the comms. "Do I apprehend, or stayand guard Fitzsimmons?"

"We can look after ourselves," Simmons said. "That seemed to be the only heat signature on the

scan."

"Fitzsimmons are right, apprehend," Mack said, but Natasha was already clattering back down thehall after the escaped operative.

"I'll send backup, just in case," Coulson added. "Jones, can you-?"

"Already on my way."

"I could get there faster," said Tony.

"No-you're our eye the in the sky on the Hulk."

"He's fine. Just playing with his boats in the bathtub."

"Never leave a kid unattended in the tub," Natasha gritted out.



A bang from around the corner indicated her subject was in the stairwell. She hoped he wasn'tgoing upstairs, but of course the footsteps thundered overhead, and she found herself retracing thepath she'd just come with Fitzsimmons, leaping over bodies. If only he'd trip over one so she couldcatch up. No such luck.

"Heading for the roof. Anything up there I need to worry about?"

"Only me," Jessica replied, and Natasha burst out into the glaring sunlight jJust in time to see her

teammate rocket into the man in the lab coat and tackle him to the ground.

He may have had the edge on Natasha in speed-and his head start-but he was no match forJessica's strength. She subdued him while Natasha caught her breath and reported to Mack, whoinformed her SHIELD was sending an extraction unit to bring him in for questioning.

"Uh, Houston?" came Tony's voice over the comms. "We have a problem."

Jessica looked up from where she pinned the operative to the ground with her knee in his back,meeting Natasha's eye with her unimpressed look. "You planned to say that, didn't you?"

"I mean I didn't plan for Dr. Claw to disappear in a flash of light, but yeah. I had it in my arsenal."

Jessica snorted. "Right next to the repulsor rays."

"Cancer disappeared?" Coulson cut in.

"Literally or figuratively?" Mack added.

"He used the Zodiac Key," Thor replied. "It may be that it unlocks doorways to other worlds."

Over Tony's predictable quip about Narnia, Coulson said, "It may. But it may not, so let's shift ourmanpower to finding this guy."

"Great idea, Phil," said Tony, "but remember that problem I called about? All our Hulk power isalready looking for him. Aggressively, I might add."

Natasha's stomach knotted. Feeling Jessica's eyes on her, she was grateful for the arrival of theextraction pod to give her an excuse to look away.

"Mind if I jack your ride?" she asked the agent who emerged, giving her a puzzled look.

"We'll send you another pod," Coulson said. "Romanoff has a lullaby to sing."

The USS Texas had survived two World Wars, including the invasions of Normandy and IwoJima, only to be blown apart by her own weapons-well, her own weapons enhanced with techthey were pretty sure was alien-in her own berth. To add insult to injury, the Hulk was splashingaround in the wreckage, picking up and tossing aside the flotsam and jetsam, creating even moreas he tore off strips of steel that had remained intact during the skirmish to disarm the ship.

By some miracle, the pier used by tourists to board it was more or less undamaged. Natashanevertheless crept down it slowly as if it had been, and despite the racket and his back being

turned to her, she spoke softly, assuming he still wore his commlink.

"Hey, Big Guy."

Hulk froze. Exactly as she'd seen the Barton kids do when they were caught in the middle of



doing something they shouldn't. Clearly he'd heard her, but after standing there for a moment,back muscles twitching beneath the green skin, he went on with prying up a panel.

Natasha continued her approach, but waited until the screech of steel tearing loose from its rivetsdied to speak again.

"Sun's getting real low…"

At that Hulk pivoted, water churning around his calves, not quite facing her, though she saw hisface in profile, the bearded chin tilted upward as his eyes scanned the sky. The features so likeBruce's in some ways, in others not, brow, nose, mouth distorted by rage. She shuddered,remembering the face it reminded her more of, viewed through a pane of shatterproof glass.

"No," growled Hulk, eyes meeting hers now. "Sun not low."

She'd almost forgotten she was dealing with the more verbal Hulk. Not that this was the first timehe'd spoken to her; after his stint in space, Bruce had made great strides in merging his ownintelligence with Hulk's physical prowess, and he spoke to her and to the others during the InfinityWars. It was, however, the first time he'd ever really argued with her with this much petulance.

She remembered Clint talking about the mythical "terrible twos," and how the kids' wills hadbecome more difficult to negotiate when they could express opinions and logic as well as usewords.

"You're right," she acquiesced, gaze drifting over his huge shoulder to the pale disc of sun thatshone hazily through the smog and smoke of burned out explosions. "We're a few hours fromsunset."

He grunted as if vindicated, and turned away from her. "Hulk busy. Find Crab Man."

"Coulson and his agents are on it." Natasha was already standing at the end of the dock, or she'dhave continued toward him. If he wasn't going to come to her, she might have to swim out to him."You did well today. Your part's done. So could you let Bruce come back? Not that it isn't goodto see you. It's been a while."

"Bruce not come back. Not to Widow."

Natasha cringed at his use of Widow. A big clue, if his attitude hadn't already made her well awarethat he wasn't at all pleased with her. She reached out toward her, started to retort, but he cut heroff by flinging a panel into the water, intentionally shy of the pier.

"Hulk not trust Widow. Widow visit monster who hit and hurt and…" His voice dropped to agrowl. "…kill Mother ."

"I didn't mean-"

His fists crashed against the remnants of a bulkhead. "NO MORE LULLABIES!"

Before Natasha could ask whether he meant no more lullabies sung by Bruce's mother, or no moreof the lullaby with her, he leapt off the ship and bounded through the river.

The aroma of cinnamon and brown sugar wafting from the oven lent a hominess to the efficiencykitchen in the functional Avengers Facility quarters. She'd pilfered the ingredients for cinnamontoast from the Facility's common kitchen, along with tea, in an attempt to recreate their old post-mission routine. When they were fighting Thanos, that had usually included showering together,maybe having sex while they were in there, but today she hadn't even asked Bruce if he wanted



company, just let him go in the bedroom alone, the click of the lock ringing as loudly in her ears asthe thunder of Hulk's rage against the battleship.

It had been Thor who found him, miles up Buffalo Bayou, and convinced him to transform back into Bruce by telling him he could wear his cape. The sight of Bruce wrapped up in it, blood redagainst his pale skin, muddy and mottled with bruises, when the quinjet picked them up, had beenalarming to her and embarrassing for him, and she'd given him a wide berth, unsure how much heremembered of Hulk's reaction when she attempted the lullaby, or how much of those sentiments

he shared.

The kettle shrieked, and she snapped to take it off the burner. In the silence that followed, shenoticed the absence of the shower in the background. How long had Bruce been finished? Shepoured the boiling water over the tea leaves, and while it steeped cracked the oven door to check on the toast. When she closed it again and turned, Bruce was emerging from the bedroom.

"Good timing. Toast's almost ready…"

Her words died as she noticed belatedly that the hand not clutching the back of his damp hairhung loose at his side, fingers wrapped around the handle of his duffel bag.

Swallowing the fear that knotted in her throat, Natasha said hoarsely, "I thought we were going tostay here tonight."

They'd talked about it on the quinjet. It was just about the only thing they'd talked about, notwanting to drive back to Ithaca so late. That, and the fact that the USS Texas was long overdue forrenovations due to leaks, only there hadn't been enough funding to complete the repairs or the dryberth project. The state Parks and Wildlife Department would be grateful for the generousdonation from the Stark Foundation, as well as for Hulk necessitating them if it meant the historicship hadn't been brought down or used for nefarious purposes by a terrorist organization. He

hadn't seemed to care about any of that, though.

"Not that I wouldn't like being home," she added, taking two mugs and saucers out of a cupboard.

"I'm going to the city," Bruce said in that tight voice that sounded like he'd barely moved his lips."Tony said I can stay in the Tower."

"What about your classes? The semester starts Monday."

That was her protest? Not What about the adoption? or What about us?

"I'll figure something out. Video conference, or…" Bruce's gaze had drifted to the computer in thecorner of the living area. "I just think…after what happened in Houston…We could use some timeapart."

"The Big Guy doesn't trust me because you don't trust me."

It's not you I don't trust , his voice whispered to her from years ago. She willed him to say it againnow.

He didn't.

He did say, "It's not that. Not just that. I jumped out of a helicarrier, for Christ's sake. Hulked outbecause I wanted to."

"Because of me."



Bruce pressed his lips together, dark eyes looking at her sadly. After a moment he huffed out abreath and said, "I get why you did it. Or I want to. I just…need to get my head around it. I'm notsaying it's over, Natasha."

Not yet.

His nose wrinkled, at the same moment that the smell of burning reached her nostrils. She stuffedthe oven mitts onto her hands and yanked the oven door open, recoiling as smoke billowed into

her face. Reaching in anyway, she pulled out the pan which held crumbling lumps that lookedmore like charcoal than cinnamon toast.

"You should go back to Ithaca," she said, willing herself not to cry. "I'll stay here. Or…Go toClint's. I haven't been in forever."

"No. You go home."

Against her will a tear fell, sizzling on the hot baking sheet in her hands. It wasn't home if hewasn't in it. Didn't he understand that yet?

"I should be the one to go," Bruce said. "This is my thing."

"You're right." Natasha wheeled around, the burned toast plopping onto the tile. Not bothering topick it up, she tossed the pan in the sink and strode past him, listing to one side to avoid knockingshoulders with him. "Running away is your thing."



Deal With It

The Tesla barely rolled to a complete stop in front of the Tower before Bruce climbed out. As heopened the back door and reached for his duffel, Tony, still in his seat, looked back, frowned atthe bag, and heaved the sort of longsuffering sigh Bruce was more accustomed to giving him.

He gritted his jaw. "Whatever it is you're thinking of saying, just say it already."

Frankly it was nothing short of a miracle that Tony hadn't already. He'd driven in silence forhours, and Bruce doubted that had anything to do with his pretending to be asleep the whole time,while Tony blared AC/DC on the stereo. Maybe seeing the Lullaby fail had put the fear of Hulk in him.

"I shouldn't be harboring you," Tony said.

Bruce chuffed out a laugh. "You make it sound like I'm a fugitive."

"Aren't you? A fugitive from your own heart?

"Seriously?"

Tony raised his hands. "Hey, you're the one who watches the sappy old movies. I'm just trying tospeak your language. Anyway, my point is: I don't really want to be a party to your relationshipdrama."

"Should've thought about that before you and Natasha conspired with those prison letters from myfather."

It was almost comical how round Tony's eyes got, if only there was anything remotely funnyabout the situation. "That's what this is about?"

"I really don't want to discuss it." Bruce punctuated the statement with the slam of the car door.

By the time he strode around the back of the car, Tony had gotten out.

"If you decide you do," he said, falling into step with Bruce on the walk up to the building, "I cancommiserate about daddy issues."

"Right. You, with the dad who didn't spend enough time with you because he was too busybecoming a billionaire. Wish mine had taken a leaf out of that book."

"Excuse me for wanting to return the favor of playing therapist."

For the few seconds it took to walk to the entrance, Bruce indulged the fantasy that Tony'spetulant remark was all he had to say on the subject. This proved to just be one more instance of wishful thinking failing him when they reached the door and Tony pivoted around to block hisentrance.

"I get it. This is the Shitty Childhood Olympics: Avengers Edition, and you're going for the gold.

Personally, if I'm judge, I'd maybe give it to Natasha in the All-Around, but you win in theCoping With It Badly event. So congratulations," he said, clapping him on the shoulder,squeezing roughly, "I'll let you continue doing what doesn't work for you."

Tony did let him. If he actually stayed at the Tower, Bruce never saw or heard from him. Partly



because he kept to the lab as much as possible. The shitty thing was that he couldn't decidewhether he'd rather Tony be angry at him for being a dick, or afraid to be around him after whathappened between Hulk and Natasha.

The even shittier thing was he wasn't wrong. This wasn't working for Bruce, on any level, eventhe most basic. All he'd brought with him to the city was the overnight bag he'd taken to theAvengers Facility before the Houston mission. He didn't have his laptop or more than one changeof clothes, and while he could access his home computer remotely and scrounged up a lab coat, he

was forced to go shopping for more classroom-appropriate clothes. It was bad enough he wasstarting the semester flaking out and conducting his lectures online, without his lookingunprofessional.

Not that it mattered, because the Zodiac Cartel and the Avengers were all they were interested in.He gave up calling on anyone with a raised hand, because those were the only questions theyasked. The administration had questions, too, mainly about his future plans; in a particularlysnippy phone call, the Dean of Sciences asked whether his course load and research requirementswere going to interfere with his day job.

Of course, Bruce was officially grounded; after the mission report, Cap deemed the Hulk was toovolatile to be an asset to the team. Erik Selvig called for a consult on the Zodiac Key, which they'dlearned from the captured scientist was, indeed, an interdimensional teleportation device, as wellas the power source for their weapons, but Bruce suspected that was more to make him feel usefulthan because his expertise was truly necessary to the Avengers.

Aunt Susan called a couple of times, too. Bruce didn't answer, though he knew she must be reallyworried if she was using the phone instead of writing a letter. He just couldn't talk to her rightnow.

Not even to try and prove Tony wrong.

~*~

"Sorry to interrupt, Doc…"

FRIDAY's voice filled the lab as he kept "office hours" before his final lecture of the week,replying to emails. Her lilting brogue sounded almost discordant with the dramatic Tchaikovskypiece--The Tempest--playing over the lab sound system.

"It's okay, FRIDAY," he muttered as he went on typing, "what's up?"

"Jessica Jones and Luke Cage are here to see you."

Bruce's fingers went still on the keyboard as his brain worked to process this. Luke and Jessicalived in New York City, they were Defenders-turned-Avengers, so it wasn't unthinkable that theymight drop in the Tower. The part that was difficult to imagine was that they'd dropped in to seehim.

"Send them in."

He saved his email, got up from his chair, and was just shrugging out of his lab coat as theyentered, cool and badass as usual in their leather jackets and boots--except for the fact Jessicacarried a polka dot print diaper in one hand and a portable crib in the other, while perched in thecrook of Luke's arm was a nine month-old dressed in a fluffy pink footed onesie with a flowerheadband almost the size of her head wrapped around her dark curls.

"So we'll hopefully be back before bedtime," Jessica said, without preamble, dropping the diaper



bag on Bruce's workstation while the crib hit the floor with a thud, "but it's just about time for hernap. Hence the Pack n Play. Danni goes to sleep pretty easily. Sing Twinkle Twinkle--she knowsif you do ABC or Ba Ba Black Sheep instead so don't even try to slip past her--and make sure theroom is totally dark. Oh, and make sure she has her lovey. Everything you need's in here." Shepatted the diaper bag.

"Bottles, formula, baby food, pacifiers, change of clothes, extra PJs, books, toys, diapers, rashointment, monitor," Luke rattled off.

Bruce's eyes bounced from Jessica to her husband. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Cap's just called us to Detroit," Luke said. "Squirrel Girl, too."

"Which means you get to babysit."

For another moment Bruce stared at the couple, at the baby peering back at him with round browneyes and her fingers in her mouth, chin shiny with drool. Then he gave a snort of laughter.

"Did Tony put you up to this? Or Natasha?"

"What," said Jessica, "like in a misguided attempt to help you get your head out of your ass?"

"I swear to God, Jess, if that's Danni's first word…"

She went on as if she hadn't heard Luke, or didn't care what he'd said. "Sorry, some of us are busyadults and don't have time for that kind of sitcom…" She put her hands over the baby's ears andwhispered, "…bullshit."

Danni giggled.

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. "The Tower's the safest place we can think of for Danni onshort notice."

"That, and this is where the quinjet's picking us up," said Jessica, grinning. "And since you're theonly person here…"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't…I can't…"

Before he could do anything but splutter incoherently, Jessica plucked her daughter from Luke'sarms and thrust her into Bruce's. Danni immediately reached up and grabbed for his glasses. Hewrestled them free, only for her pincer grasp to pull his beard.

"See?" said Jessica. "You're entertaining her already."

She and Luke showered their daughter with noisy kisses and said goodbye in appallingly babyishvoices. Then, without further instruction to Bruce, turned and strode toward the lab exit.

"But I have a class to teach!" he belatedly found a solid excuse why this was a bad idea. Besidesthe most obvious thing they apparently didn't have a problem with.

"We believe in early education," Luke replied. "You got this whole Baby Einstein vibe with the

classical music."

"Or you'll bore the kid to sleep," Jessica said. "Either's good."

Resigning himself to his new, unexpected assignment, Bruce watched them go. Just as theyreached the door, he called, "Hey, one more thing."



The couple turned back, Luke with his eyebrows raised in expectation, Jessica's posture--armscrossed, foot tapping--pure impatience.

"Hurry it up, Banner, we've got a quinjet to catch."

"Just…" Bruce shifted the baby to his other arm to keep her slobbery hand out of his shirt pocket."If you see Natasha, tell her I love her."

Jessica eyed him from beneath drooping lids, lips pursed.

"You're a grown ass man," she replied, pivoting to step through the door. "Tell her yourself."

~*~

A shadow fell across the dossier Natasha was reviewing before the Detroit mission brief. Sheglanced back to see Luke reading over her shoulder.

"Target's a green dude," Luke observed.

"In a dress," Natasha said.

"How inclusive of Zodiac," said Jess, drawing out the chair beside Natasha's, but only to kick itout of the way as she perched on the edge of the conference table facing her.

"Alien, or science experiment gone wrong?" asked Luke.

"Alien, according to the operative we brought in," Natasha replied.

She'd spent a lot of the week interviewing him. Interrogating him, technically, but he was so

compliant it seemed too strong a word.

Jess flicked through her own copy of the dossier. "As if an actual human would choose the aliasWillard Weir."

"Too bad we don't have Bruce today," Natasha said. "Battle of the green dudes."

"He's doing his part," Luke remarked, dropping into the chair next to the one his wife wasn'tsitting in.

They'd seen him? Or heard about him? Natasha had neither since he left the Avengers Facility

after the Houston mission, with the exception of a call from Aunt Susan who worried when hehadn't been answering his phone. "Oh?"

Jess smirked. "Babysitting Danni."

It would have been funny, except for the little twinge of electricity that rippled through Natasha'schest. Jess didn't mean anything by it. She didn't know…

Natasha fixed a crooked grin on her own face as she leaned back in her chair. "How'd youconvince him to do that?"

"Didn't give him a choice," Jess replied.

"We just sort of brought Danni to the lab and left her."

"Is that bad parenting?"



"No, it's good Bruce handling," Natasha said.

A sideways glance confirmed the only other people in the conference room were Coulson, Steve,and Thor. Coulson already knew, and Thor spoke so loudly that no one could possibly overhearher conversation, anyway.

"And good practice for him," she added.

"Are you--?"

"Adopting," Natasha headed off Jess' inevitable question about pregnancy with a smile. "Theprocess is pretty…intense."

Luke grunted sympathetically.

Natasha went on, as though a floodgate had been opened. "One of the questions they asked us iswhy do two superheroes decide to adopt a child?"

"We asked ourselves that one, too," Luke said, rubbing his fingers over his goatee. "Well, notadopt. Have one."

"What was your answer?" Natasha asked.

"Because apparently condoms are no match for Luke's mighty sperm."

He ducked his head, shaking it, but his laugh rumbled low as Jess nudged his ankle with her toe.

Eyes flicking to Natasha, her face became serious. "Because that's what people do, isn't it? Mostpeople. They have kids."

"People want families," Luke added.

"And superheroes are people, too," Natasha murmured.

"I'd find a less Hallmark card way to say it to your social worker," said Jess, sliding off the table totake her seat. "But yeah. Basically."

It seemed almost too basic to Natasha. Then again, it wouldn't be the first time she and Bruceovercomplicated a problem. Especially Bruce.

"Although there are exceptions to every rule," Jess said, jerking her chin toward the doorway asTony swaggered through to interrupt the conversation between Thor, Cap, and Coulson. "We'renot sure what the hell that one is."

~*~

Bruce was not only not present for his seminar, but he was late for it, too. He was trying to getDanni down for her nap, but she wouldn't sleep. She wouldn't even stay laying down. Every timehe put her little blanket over her, she pushed up on all fours, rocked back and forth, and giggled athim through the mesh. He couldn't help chuckling at her.

"I guess you don't let anyone tell you what to do…like your mom," he said, crouching in front of her. He raked his hands back through his hair and sighed. "You're really cute, Danni, but I have agraduate seminar on high energy particle physics to teach."

In reply, Danni pressed her pudgy little hand against the mesh, laughing when Bruce pushed his



finger against it and said, "Boop!" They repeated this several times, Danny finding it more andmore hilarious each time. Bruce had a fleeting thought that he should be making a video, but thevideoconference was more important. Finally, desperate to begin his lecture, he decided to put the play in Pack n Play, and emptied the toys from her diaper bag into it.

"Skipping a nap means early bedtime, right?" he said, moving back to his workstation.

He'd barely greeted his students when Danni's cry interrupted the beginning of the lecture.

"Was that a baby?" asked a girl wearing a Black Widow t-shirt which, in a normal circumstance,Bruce would have teased her wouldn't get her extra credit in the course.

"Um, yeah…"He glanced back over his shoulder to see Danni's toys scattered across the floorout side the play pen, while the baby slapped miserably at the side, trying to reach them throughthe mesh. "Hang on a sec…"

He darted to Danni, who instantly stopped crying and grinned up at him, the beads of tears stillgleaming on her round cheeks. For a moment he stared down at her, hands on his hips, then hebent and began to scoop up the toys and drop them back in with her.

"I suspect this may be an exercise in futility," he muttered. In his life, wasn't everything?

Danni squealed and picked up a soft book, which she shoved in her mouth. She looked happyenough, but Bruce noticed the plush ballerina doll had a key on her back, so he wound it all theway up, surprised to hear it playing Beethoven's Für Elise. Weird, but whatever; Danni wasmesmerized. Maybe she'd fall asleep after all. Maybe that was the lovey Jess had told him to giveher for naptime.

"Really sorry for the interruption," he said, returning to his computer. He turned it so that he faced

Danni, and found himself looking into those big brown eyes across the lab. "Anyway, as I wassaying, today we're going to talk about--"

"Whose baby is that?" asked the girl in the Black Widow t-shirt.

"Um…"

"Is that one of the Avengers' kids?" She turned to the student seated next to her. "Some of theAvengers have kids, right?"

"Let me Google that for you," said a guy with a snarky tone Tony would appreciate.

The second girl eyed her classmate's t-shirt. "A true fan would know the answer to that. Did youbuy the shirt to boost your grade?"

Her face went bright red, and Bruce felt the back of his neck prickling, too. He rubbed it as hespoke over the students and the tinny music box tinkle. "If you remember where we left off lasttime--"

Danni's cry cut him off again, and his eyes snapped up from his laptop screen to see that hisprediction about the toys had been accurate. This time, when he scurried to put them back, shedidn't stop crying. She wailed louder and harder, mouth opening so wide that he could see a few

more tooth buds and her quivering uvula.

"What's wrong, Danni?" he asked, bending to pick her up. "Do you need a new diaper?"

He lifted her up, gave her a sniff, but didn't smell anything. She was still crying, though thankfully



not screaming any more.

"Maybe you're hungry…You didn't take much of your bottle…"

The cries subsided to whimpers and occasional hiccups as he shifted Danni to one arm as he kneltto rifle through the diaper bag. This proved a less straightforward task than it should have, as shekept grabbing for his glasses and the pen from the pocket of his lab coat. Eventually he did findthe bottles--empty--along with a can of formula. He'd have to mix it up with water, but he couldn't

do that one-handed. The lab being seriously un-baby-proofed, he had no choice but to put Danniback in her Pack n Play.

It was like flipping a switch. She screamed again, so distressed she toppled over backward.

"Okay, okay, I won't do it again!" Bruce scooped her up, cradling her against his shoulder as hepadded her back and bounced. Soothed, Danni popped her fingers into her mouth and looked upat him. "Seems like you just want to be held. I can do that."

He carried her back to his workstation, where his graduates were having a heated debate aboutwhich Avenger kid he might be babysitting. They went silent as soon as their screens showed him

sitting down with the baby.

"Danni will be auditing our seminar today," Bruce joked, to a chorus of awwwwwwws, "as part of SI's new Early Education Initiative."

"Gotta be Luke Cage's kid," said the girl who'd called the girl in the Black Widow shirt a poser."He was on that Houston mission the other day. Does that mean the Avengers are on a missionright now?"

"I just googled Zodiac," the Let Me Google That For You guy said (Bruce really needed to learn

his students' names). "Nothing new came up…"

"Yeah, because the Avengers totally get their intel from the mainstream media."

"They could just be at a movie or something," the Black Widow shirt-wearer shot back."Avengers are people, too."

"Is that why you just posted that screencap of Dr. Banner holding a baby on your Tumblr?Because you respect his personhood?"

"Wait, what?" Bruce said, his view of the class on the screen obscured by slobbery fingerprints on

his glasses as he wrestled them from Danni's hand again. "I'd take that down if I were you."

He wasn't sure he'd mustered much in the way of authority with a baby in his arms, but the girlfrantically worked on her screen.

"Sorry, I'm sorry! It's deleted now!"

"It is," her classmate confirmed.

"Please don't flunk me!"

Bruce sighed. Effective though it was, it didn't create an atmosphere of academic freedom whenyour students were intimidated by your alter-ego.

"Good," he said. "You wouldn't want to experience how Ms. Jones deals with paparazzi who tryto take pictures of her daughter."



That was one of the main reasons why they'd moved to Ithaca. Well, that and the job offer. The job he was supposed to be doing right now.

He got back to the lecture, but was much less aware of the words that were coming out of hismouth than the thoughts that swirled in his brain.

Cornell hadn't been the only offer. There had been other positions, at other universities, in othercities. Bigger cities, New York included, where Bruce and Natasha had perfected the art of

blending in. They didn't want that, though, not any more. Not the continued existence of hiding inplain sight. They wanted to be seen, not as celebrities--which was what a lot of those universityboards wanted him for, even more than his genius--but as normal people were seen, as part of something. A community. A family.

Danni had given up grabbing his glasses and his beard and the pen in his pocket. She had goneperfectly still in his arms, Bruce realized, except for the deep, steady rhythm of her breath. He feltthe soft puffs of it, warm, against his neck, a wet spot growing on his shoulder where she drooled.He smelled her, baby lotion and milk, something vegetable, maybe strained carrots, the lesspleasant ammoniac odor of a wet diaper. Whatever point he'd arrived at in high energy particles,

he faltered.

"Dr. Banner?"

Bruce blinked at his computer screen, unsure which of the students who stared back at him withconcerned expressions had spoken.

"Are you okay?" asked the girl in the Black Widow shirt.

Please. Talk to me, Natasha's voice whispered through his mind.

"I…" His voice cracked, and he felt the brittleness of the smile he fixed on his lips. "Sorry, guys,but I need to change a diaper. Get an early start on your weekend. See you next week."

"In person?"

"I don't know," Bruce replied, briefly unwrapping one arm from around Danni to shut off thewebcam, then holding her more securely as he stood, resting his cheek against her thick curly hair.

He didn't know when he'd be back in Ithaca…or if. (We agreed to talk in whens , not ifs.) Theonly thing he did know was that he wanted this. God , he wanted it. For the first time in fifteenyears, he'd not only allowed himself to want, but had it within his grasp, only for it to slip through

his fingers.

Looping the diaper bag over one shoulder, he carried Danni out of the lab. Where in the Tower heshould change her, he didn't know. Or if he should even change her now. He didn't want to wakeher, as much for his own benefit of holding the peacefully sleeping baby for a while, as forDanni's.

As he descended the staircase slowly so as not to jostle the baby or worse, tumble down, themuffled sound of piano music reached his ears from the lounge below. He recognized a repeatednote. Chopin? Teardrop Nocturne? No, Prelude. And it was the Raindrop. Had he left music

playing last time he came down here? He didn't remember listening to Chopin recently…Didn'teven remember when he'd last been out of the lab.

"FRIDAY, would you turn off the music?"

"Afraid I can't, Doc," she replied.



Bruce paused on the step, baffled by the AI's noncompliance, then he realized the piano musiccame from an actual piano--the seldom-used baby grand below in the lounge. And seldom-tuned,he thought, resuming his descent, a little quicker than before. Who in the world…?

At the bottom of the stairs, the glimpse of red hair over the music stand stopped him again. NotNatasha's deep auburn, but a subtler coppery shade.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce blurted out.

Mid-bar, the music stopped. The pianist raised her head, peering at him over the tops of herglasses that had slipped down her nose.

"I could ask you the same thing," said Aunt Susan, not giving him a smile in greeting. Not thathe'd given her much of a greeting.

"Babysitting," he replied.

"Yes, I can see that."

Susan didn't ask who he was babysitting, just went on looking at him, waiting for him to provideanswers to the more pertinent questions she didn't need to ask.

Instead, Bruce carried Danni to the sofa, where he lay her gently in the corner of the white leathercushion.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked as he sat beside the baby, placing the diaper bag at hisfeet and reaching in for a blanket.

"You wouldn't answer my calls," Susan replied. "I got worried and called Natasha."

She drew the piano lid down over the keys, got up from the bench and tucked it under theinstrument. Belatedly, it occurred to Bruce he ought to have helped her move it, but he couldn’tvery well leave Danni unattended on a sofa; she might roll off, and he didn't want to have toexplain that to Jessica.

Facing him, Susan said, "You left her."

"I didn't leave leave her…That's not what she said, is it?"

"You stopped the adoption process. You came out of retirement." Susan ticked off the points, achecklist of his failures, as she came toward the sofa. She took off her glasses, let them danglefrom the chain around her neck. "All because Natasha visited Brian?"

Bruce looked down, pretending to be intent on the contents of the diaper bag, though apparentlythe only blanket was the one he'd left in the crib in the lab.

Natasha's prison visit. The home study. The autobiography. The failed lullaby. They all had acommon denominator: Brian Banner.

"He took your mother from you," Susan said. "Don't let him take Natasha, too. Your children."

" Let him?" Bruce repeated as he stood, knocking over the diaper bag. A bottle rolled out,skittering across the floor. "I would'vve thought you of all people would know better than tovictim blame."

Susan didn't back down. "When you were a little boy you were helpless against Brian's abuse.



You're not a little boy anymore, you're a man. You're not helpless, you're an Avenger."

"The Hulk's the Avenger. Not me, I'm just the--"

"The Hulk is the frightened little boy."

Hulk not little boy, the Other Guy snarled in his head.

"Well. Not so little," Susan amended, a wry smile briefly pulling at her lips. "But you don't haveto be a genius to see my point. Which you are."

Hulk not afraid .

Danni whimpered on the sofa, then began to cry.

Of course Hulk was the child, Bruce thought, as he moved to pick up the baby. Tony had calledhim the protector, and he wasn't wrong, but the Hulk's protective instinct was a child's. Get hit, hitback. Hulk smash. That was why they had the lullaby.

"It's okay, shh," he murmured to Danni, patting her back.

"You're not helpless," Susan said. "So help yourself. Or if not yourself…Help Natasha. You'renot the only one who's had old wounds opened."

That cut, but Bruce didn’t argue. He thought of what Tony had said the other night. Of Natasha's joke about being raised by former Soviets for the glory of Mother Russia, which he'd brushed off.

"I've let her down," he said, sinking down on the sofa with Danni, who was gumming hisshoulder.

"You still have a chance to pick her up."

He thought of her, on her mission in Detroit, and hoped she was okay. You're a grown-ass man,Jessica had said. Tell her yourself .

Susan joined him on the sofa, reaching out to stroke his hair, brushing a kiss to the top of his headbefore she sat.

"I love you like you're my own son, you know. And it'll be the happiest day of my life when youhave a family of your own. You're going to be a wonderful father."

"I want to be," he said.

For a moment neither of them spoke as Danni drifted back to sleep, then Susan looked at him inconfusion. "Whose baby is this, anyway?"

~*~

When Danni had settled, Bruce left her with Susan and went back to the lab to call Natasha. Tohis surprise, she picked up.

"You're not in Detroit yet?"

"Are we not supposed to take personal calls during battle?" she replied with a little laugh. It wasthe best sound he'd heard in days. "Just about to land."

"I won't keep you long," Bruce said. "Just…I wanted to tell you I love you. And afterward, come



back with Luke and Jess."

Static crackled as she sucked in a breath. "You're ready to talk?"

"The Other Guy learned how. It's past time I did, too."

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5311703/comments/new

and throw away the key

Documents