I noticed that the last couple of chapters didn't have a lot of dialogue, so hopefully this one has a lot more. They were also a little bit rocky, but I think I have a better grasp now.

Enjoy!

It's been a week since Natasha moved into the Tower, and it has been one of the weirdest weeks of Natasha's life. Living with her teammates was something Natasha never expected, and her doing it willingly, was something she expected even less. But it's been a week and-Natasha will never tell another soul-but it's not as bad as she thought it would be. Definitely wasn't perfect, but nothing ever is, but it wasn't too bad; better than all the other crap infested places Natasha has lived in. There's already been about five explosions in the Tower, they all came from the lab, all experiments exploded because of Tony. That was something Natasha was never going to get used to, living with Tony-freaking-Stark.

She wasn't sure if that place was going to permanent, but if life kept going in the same direction, then it won't. That's okay. Natasha has learned not be attached to anything, this is just a living situation. Even though the Tower wasn't too bad a place to live, she still questions why she ever moved in. Now, she was just counting down the days until she has to leave, her average was about six months.

Natasha hasn't spoken with Bruce since they met in the hallway, near the stairwell. They haven't even been near each other since she spot him on the roof, staring into the sunset. He looked so peaceful up there, in no way, shape, or form, did Bruce have any resemblance of a monster. He was hundred percent human, for a couple of seconds, Natasha forgot that the big guy was living inside of him. For some reason, though, they haven't said one word to each other. Natasha isn't sure why that happened, it just did; it's been five days or so, and no interaction. Maybe Bruce is avoiding her, he wasn't all that talkative near the stairwell, either. Natasha just thought all that changed after Bruce sought her out onto the rooftop, during her first night there.

But they haven't seen each other at all, Natasha hasn't tried to reach out to him, guess that fear was even stronger than she thought. Bruce is actively avoiding her, and it's so weird, whenever she enters a room where Bruce is, he will immediately leave. It happened in the kitchen, it the hallway, and the very awkward time when they were both trapped in the elevator and couldn't escape, then Jarvis had the wonderful idea of playing elevator music, which only enhanced the strain. Needless to say, it has not been going well.

This morning Natasha woke up by having Clint drag her out of bed to get a cup of coffee. Which was really confusing because there's about 200 coffee makers in the Tower. But she's also known Clint long enough to know that he's really picky about his coffee. But that doesn't change the fact that Clint got Natasha up at 4 o' clock in the morning. She's been trained to survive with no sleep up to a week and a half, but someone better be prepared to lose a body part if they wake Natasha up before she's awake. Natasha was not happy, she kept sending Clint glares of death, but he was really determined to get his coffee; not even Natasha's promise of bodily harm was going to stop him.

She had to give the guy props for setting with such determination to get a cup of coffee, but later, she was going to destroy him. That might not be figurative...oh, well.

Natasha stared at Clint across the table in the coffee shop, with eyes like daggers. She had a coffee cup in her hands, and so did Clint; he was just casually drinking his coffee with no care in the world. The sun was barely even up. Natasha can survive with no sleep, she barely ever even gets sleep; but she was soundly asleep, and it was disturbed, now she was planning fifty different ways to end Clint. "Remind me again why we're here." Natasha evenly, calmly asked; but she was not calm. She never looked anywhere but Clint, to let him know that she means business.

Clint just watched Natasha for a moment, then went back to drinking his coffee, he really loves coffee. "We're drinking coffee in a place of establishment." He said obviously. The way he responded to her question, it was almost as if he was testing the waters, to see how far he could go. Most people would think that testing the limits with Natasha Romanoff, would be a really bad idea; but Clint has known Natasha for so long, he knew she would never actually do anything...well, anything that could cause permanent damage.

That snarky answer really did not help Natasha's blood pressure. "Okay..." She gritted out through her teeth. "But why?" Her patience was slowly leaving her.

"I like drinking coffee." Clint simply replied.

"I know that," Natasha focused on her breathing or else she was going to lunge at Clint, and then she was probably going to regret it. It also might end up on the news, and the would not be a good thing. Steve would show his disappointed face, which was always weird. So, Natasha just stayed still, and kept her feelings inside, like always. "I also know that there's about 20 coffee stations per floor in the Tower." There was absolutely no reason to be there. "So again, I ask, why are we here?" Natasha slowly drew out, she was wide awake by now, but she surrounded by people, and Natasha, is not a people person. There was only a handful of people besides Clint and Natasha in the coffee shop. Almost all of them were on a computer, also being anti-social.

Clint pondered it for a moment, deciding what was the best answer. "I wanted to get out." He shrugged. He was one of the least talkative people Natasha knows, and one of the most; it was very confusing. Natasha made a face, like saying 'really?', she believe what Clint was saying for a second. One way or another, she was going to pry it out of him. "What?" Clint innocently asked. "The birds are chirping, the sun is shining." He pointed out, with lightness in his voice.

"We're indoors." Natasha dryly retorted.

That made Clint stop in his tracks, he reason for getting out of the Tower wasn't something he wanted to talk about, but he was planning on talking to Natasha later about what's going on with her and Bruce, but that wasn't his reason for leaving the Tower. "Fine..." He huffed out. "Wherever there's a coffee maker in the Tower, Stark's bound to be ten feet behind it; and I would like to have a cup of coffee without having to see his ugly, expensive mug." The only in the Tower that could challenge Clint for his amount of drinking coffee, is Tony. But Tony mainly just drinks it so he doesn't pass out in the lab. Clint drinks it because he loves coffee like Natasha loves Vodka. That was only half the reason for leaving, Clint just prayed Natasha wouldn't figure it out.

Natasha could actually understand that. Seeing him every time she went to get Vodka or something-which happens on a daily basis-no, thank you. That would drive her to the brink of insanity, if Natasha wasn't already there herself. "Okay, that I can understand; but why was I dragged along?" There was no reason for Natasha to be there. "You're perfectly capable of getting it by yourself." She quipped. Natasha did not want to be there, but she was wide awake at that point, no point in fighting it. But getting forcefully woken up for coffee, was not something Natasha was going to take quietly.

"I know I'm perfectly capable of getting it by myself." Clint sighed. "But I like a little company; and I drag you around everywhere, I've been doing it for years." Ain't that the truth. They've been glued to each other's side since the day they met on the rooftop. Natasha does get dragged around everywhere by Clint, but she's never stopped it. Well, at least not anymore; when she first can to SHIELD Natasha fought tooth and nail to get away. But somehow they became best friends; but being best friends with Natasha does not guarantee your safety from her wrath. Right now, Clint was at the top of the list.

But the truth is, right now, Clint didn't really feel like being alone. Not while his mind was trying to eat him alive. He doesn't need anyone to hold his hand, but Natasha was the only who could ever make sure he wasn't swallowed whole. Well, the only one now.

The thoughts and memories of their friendship raced through Natasha's mind, and it made her feel a little lighter. Then all the stupid stunts Clint had done over the past few years also went through Natasha's mind, and that made her inwardly groan. "But why did you need coffee at 4 A.M.?" He could've at least waited until 8. Natasha was a having dreamless sleep, which is the rarest thing for Natasha; but then it was interrupted. Something made Natasha stop. She watched as Clint hesitated, she watched as his entire body froze for a moment. Then it clicked why he got her up at 4 A.M. "You had a nightmare." It wasn't a question. It was a pure, and simple fact. Natasha isn't sure why she didn't see it earlier, she wanted to slap herself upside the head. Clint slowly nodded. "Honolulu?" It was the only thing Clint ever had a nightmare about, he used to have nightmares about Loki, but not anymore. Now it was just Honolulu. It had a hold on his mind and wouldn't let go.

There was a few minutes of silence, watching the thoughts and horror pass over Clint, it was almost haunting. The smell of salt water passed through his lungs, and it was sickening, it mixed with the scent of blood, and fire. Everything about that trip was something Clint wanted to forget, forever; but his mind wouldn't let him forget, ever. It would play over, and over, and over again; like a record player, it would never leave him alone. The memories burned Clint's mind, the day he lost everything. He could still hear the screaming, them crying out for him. "Yeah..." Clint slowly nodded again. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, just for something else to focus on. Something else besides the so called paradise of Hawaii. Anything else besides that.

Natasha knew exactly what Clint was thinking, what he was feeling, what he was losing. Well, maybe not exactly. But Natasha was right there besides Clint in Honolulu. It haunted Clint more of what happened, but it certainly left a mark on Natasha. All thoughts of causing Clint bodily harm, left her instantly. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault. That what happened in Honolulu wasn't because of him. The horrors of that trip did not land on his shoulders. "It wasn't your fault." Natashsa assured Clint, because it wasn't. The pieces just so happened to land in a certain order, that caused what happened, to happen. It was just a case of really bad luck, there was nothing either of them could've done differently to cause a different outcome. It just happened, in a blink of an eye, it happened so quickly. As soon as Natasha told Clint that it wasn't his fault, he immediately shook his head and bit the inside of cheek even harder; he began to actively avoid Natashsa's gaze. Natashsa noticed this, he didn't believe her. He would never believe her. Natasha wasn't really one to talk, though; but we'll cover that later. "It wasn't." She firmly told Clint to get it in his thick head.

It was nice to know that Natasha would always be there for him. She would always remind Clint that it wasn't his fault, but no matter how many times she says it, Clint will never believe it. How could he? "Could we uh-could we not?" Having to talk about what about happened in Honolulu, meant having to think about even more; it also meant having to share his feelings, and not even Thor does that. Clint just wanted to forget. He wanted to forget everything that every happened on the freakin island. Every sound, every scent, every sight, every feeling; just all of it.

"Okay." Natasha said simply, she didn't hesitate or say it with disappointment. It was a simple acknowledgment, she knew exactly how he felt, she isn't a big talker on feelings, Natasha was taught that feelings don't exist; an empty heart. If something like that happened to her, she wouldn't want to talk about it either. So, Natasha knew it was best to not press the issue, it wouldn't do anybody any good.

For a while, the two spys sat in complete silence. But it wasn't weird or anything, just peaceful. Natasha silently let the offer still stand, but she knew it would forver remain without a recipient. A lot of times Clint and Natasha don't talk much, they just...relax. They can drop all of their faces, and just sit there, for once.

Though, Natasha can never drop her mask, not completely. The most she has ever dropped her mask was in front of Clint, but even then she couldn't rid herself of it. It was the only thing keeping her safe, gaining the upper hand; without it, Natasha would be completely bare, vulnerable; Natasha does not do vulnerable. No matter how many times she tells herself that she is completely safe in front of her teammates, her mind will not listen. It killed her to put a small mask on in front of Clint since he was the one to pull her out; but a part of Natasha just couldn't do it. He didn't save her, though, she's still shrouded in darkness, that is also known as her soul. Clint just...gave her a door instead of four, padded walls. But Natasha has never opened the door; a monster doesn't deserve release.

The sun began to rise, breaking into the new day. The earth started to wake, a few more people came into the cafe who were on their way to work and needed a pick-me-up. Natasha noticed the smell of coffee was a lot stronger than before, she could hear the whistle of the espresso machine going strong. Everyone was just going about their day, without a care in the world.

She looked over to Clint who was looking out the window, watching the people pass by, life moving so quickly you'll miss it if you blink. Natasha watched as he studied every person in the room, watching the people they were meant to protect. After Honolulu, Clint thought about retiring, there was no reason to continue, but every time he watches the people of the Earth, Clint realizes exactly why he has to stay on the job. It was evident his mind never left Honolulu, it just dived in deeper. Natasha wanted to help him, but she knew she couldn't do anything. She didn't know what she could possibly say. So, Natasha just didn't say anything.

Clint found the situation too much to handle. It was like a burning sensation kept creeping up his throat, destroying everything in it's path. Just thinking about about Honolulu, physically hurt him. Clint could feel Natasha thinking about him, worrying for him; it became too much. So, Clint decided make a change of pace in the air. "So..." He broke the silence. Natasha looked at him, patiently waiting for him to finish his thought, holding in the breath of relief that he decided not to hide in his shell. "What's going on with you and Doc?"

That wasn't what she expected. At all.

Natasha huffed in annoyance, and immediately left the table and her coffee to walk out of the cafe. Why did he have to bring that up? Then again, Clint never leaves well enough alone. Natasha barely knew what was going on there herself. Bruce was avoiding her; she wasn't even trying to seek him out. It made her head spin.

Clint jugged down the rest of his coffee as fast as he could (because it was just so wrong to waste a good cup of coffee) he slammed down a 10 dollar bill on the table, and ran out to meet Natasha. He didn't think bringing it up would cause that kind of reaction. But how could Clint not bring it up? The whole thing going on between Bruce and Natasha was kind of hard to miss. As soon as Natasha entered a room, Bruce would leave. Even a few months ago, it was never that bad. Then again, Natasha wasn't living in the Tower; but still. Plus, having an ugly alter ego try to kill the other person can usually throw a wrench in the friendship.

Clint went outside and saw Natasha just standing there. He expected her to be running away, or not even see her; but she was right there, not moving, not looking at him either. She was observing everything, the people, the sky, the ground; quiet minds lead to dark places. It's what Natasha does when she's by herself, she just watches everyone, make a note of everything, her mind is always on high alert, just waiting for something to jump out. Natasha has always been like this, it's how she was trained, she does even when she's in the middle of conversation, it's just more noticeable when she's by herself.

As soon as Clint walked out and stood behind her, Natasha immediately sensed a shift in the air. She knew he was behind her, waiting for something. Waiting for what? Natasha doesn't know. She didn't really feel like speaking up first, so she waited for Clint to say something. Until then, she just abide her time by listening to the laughter of children, looking at the color of the leaves; green. Which brought her back to the mess of what brought her out of the cafe in the first place. Bruce. Whatever was going between the two of them, really scrambled Natasha's brain; which is not an easy thing to do.

After a few minutes of waiting around, Clint finally decided to speak up. Because knowing Natasha, this could go on forever. He stuffed his hands inside his pockets, rocked on the heels of his feet, and opened his mouth. "So, uh, what exactly did I say?" Clint casually asked her.

Natasha turned around and stared at him, practically fuming at the mouth, but she kept a calm exterior, buried everything down. She studied Clint for a couple of minutes, hoping to either stare him down, or find out what he's thinking. The staring down doesn't work, he just patiently waits for Natasha to answer him. Clint stares back with a far more laid back, casually expression, than Natasha's cold, hard stare. After a few minutes of deciphering, Natasha figured out that Clint's just generally curious, and concerned. "You don't seem to know how to mind your own business." Natasha bit out harder than she expected. Even though Clint only had good attentions with bringing, it didn't change the fact that Natasha did not want to talk about it.

"I never mind my own business," Clint told her in an obvious tone, and Natasha had to suppress an eye roll. "You know me." He said while shrugging his shoulders, and how true that was. Natasha knows him very well, it's a little terrifying to be honest.

"Oh, and what a joy it is..." She muttered under her breath. She's known Clint for a little over ten years, and each one gets weirder and weirder. Natasha understands his personality a little bit more everyday, and that isn't always a good thing. But, if Natasha was being honest-she wishes that would happen a lot more often-she wouldn't change meeting Clint for the world; they're best friends for a reason.

Clint just glared at Natasha when she said that, but he knew she was just being sarcastic. He didn't really feel like getting into a fight so early in the morning, but he was still very curious; and that's not always a good thing when it comes to Clint. "Can I bring up the 'Bruce thing', again? Or are you just going to walk away further?" He sarcastically quipped. Whatever's going on between them has been going on for days. It's like with each passing day, the tension or fear between them is getting worse; and pretty soon, something is going to cause them to explode.

Natasha sighed, she tried thinking of ways to get out of this conversation, praying that another wormhole will open up in the sky as a distraction from this. But no wormhole was coming, she was going to have to deal with this by herself. The thought of having to open up about what was going on between her and Bruce, and her fear; made Natasha's blood boil. She absolutely hated that she was afraid of him-or the Hulk at least-she really thought her fear disappeared when she saw Bruce on the rooftop. A part of Natasha' fear did, she realized that Bruce wasn't dangerous, but she was still afraid because the Hulk is always right underneath the surface, and he could come out at any point. "I-I don't know." Natasha honestly told Clint. "When I come up with an answer, you'll be the first to know." She said in a sarcastic manner. She could open up any further, her walls went right back up. Without even realizing, Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, as if she was strengthening the barrier.

"Nat..." Clint sighed, he wasn't really sure what to say at this point. At this point, he could clearly tell that this was really affecting Natasha, he had no idea what to do. The only he could do was show her that he meant no harm, to stop her from getting the defensive. "I just-" But before Clint could get any further, he was cut off.

"Give me your wallets!" Natasha and Clint turned their heads and saw that a guy-that did not know the meaning of shower-was pointing a gun at them. For starters, this man was clearly an idiot for attempting to rob 'The Black Widow' and 'Hawkeye'. He was an older fellow, maybe 60, super scrawny-like he hasn't eaten in days-he had a white beard and his hair was hidden by a gray beanie. Most of his clothes were too big for him, probably found them in a dumpster, or he stole them. A lot of people would assume this man was homeless, but it was evident if you looked close enough, that he was a drug addict. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were bugged. Clint and Natasha simply just turned back to each other and pretended they didn't even see him, continuing their conversation that was interrupted.

"Look, Nat, I'm just worried about-" But Clint was cut off again.

"Now!" The gunman yelled shakily, the ignoring of him was clearly ticking him off, Natasha and Clint heard a 'click', indicating that he turned off the safety.

Natasha breathed out a frustrated sigh, this guy was a complete moron. She was already busy enough with talking to Clint about this 'thing', now to have an idiot with a gun thrown in? Just great. She didn't get a wormhole, but she did get a crazed gunman that was doped up. Now, Natasha was thinking why a distraction was such a good idea; because it wasn't. "Sir, if you wait right there, we'll be with you in a moment." Natasha told him as calmly as she could. All she wanted to do was punch this guy's lights out and walk away, but clearly that wasn't going to happen. She huffed out another sigh, trying to think of a way to respond to Clint, to tell him just to back off.

But before Natasha could say anything to Clint, the guy opened his mouth again. "What's wrong with you people?!" That's a good question. "I got a gun pointed at you!" They just stared at him, silently asking if that was suppose to mean anything. "Give me your freaking wallets!" They were pushing all the right buttons.

"How rude can one guy get?" Clint muttered to Natasha, who was very annoyed by the situation, as well. "Dude, we're in the middle of the conversation, wait your turn." Clint said to the guy, while raising his hands from his sides in a way that said 'really?'

This guy was definitely tired of this as much as Clint and Natasha were tired of him. His forefinger grasped the trigger, he pulled back on the cool, dark metal, he tightly shut his eyes as soon as he did, like a coward. A loud 'bang' rang out and everyone started screaming, running around, chaos ensued. They flied as quickly as they could with fear of their life, their hands clasped tightly around their children's wrists, leaving any personal effects behind. Birds started flying away from the trees in terror, the only footprints were loose leaves falling from the trees as they fled.

But those were the only sounds; something was wrong.

The gunman didn't hear anyone scream out, or the sound of someone collapsing to the floor, nothing but a small 'ping'. He slowly opened his eyes in confusion and saw Natasha with her hand in a fist, blocking her face in a defensive stance. What really confused him was the black cuff around her wrist, and the bullet on the concrete. She dropped her wrist and revealed her expression of a raised eyebrow, and for a second the guy swore he was staring at the face of death.

"Really?" Clint groaned. "You brought your tasers?" His voice was muffled while he was dragging his hands down his face in annoyance.

Natasha was sure why he was so surprised. "I always bring them." She said in almost a mock tone. 'You know me' hung quietly in the air, it took all of Clint's energy to suppress the eye roll that was inching it's way to the surface. "And for good reason, apparently." Natasha outstretched her arm, pointing her 'bites' at the man, and bright blue electricity light up the cuff, surging energy just waiting to be released. All of the color drained from his face immediately, but that wasn't the only thing he was being drained of. A small trickle ran down his leg, soaking his pants in the process, it felt wet and smelled really bad.

"Dude, really?" Clint asked with a groan.

Natasha ignored it, her hand was stilled raised at him, just waiting to see if he would try anything else. The gunman's arm went limp out of fear, dropping the gun from his grasp. It was a surrender that didn't do him much good. It clattered on the ground, but since the safety wasn't on, a bullet left the chamber with a 'bang'. It missed Natasha by a hair, the victim instead was glass from the front of the cafe, it shattered and all the pieces were strewn on the concrete and inside of the cafe; and in that split second, Natasha fired her taser on instinct, the guy dropped like a sack of potatoes next to the gun, groaning weakly. From the shot going off, to him on the floor-happened so quickly, you'd miss it if you blinked.

She walked up to the unconscious man on the ground, tapping him lightly with her boot to make sure he was out. Natasha was satisfied when he made no movement. "Who knew we were going to run into someone who was trying to fill his pockets to get to the top of the mountain?" She asked no one in particular, still staring at the man laying on the ground.

Clint walked up to her, and squatted down on the balls of his feet to get a closer look. He grabbed the gun with one hand, and upon closer inspection, he realized it was a JA-22 pistol. "Pointed a gun at us. Sounds like he was still pretty close to the top." Clint twirled the gun in his hand with his finger before gaining a tight grip on it. It's true. Their faces are plastered everywhere, it would be pretty hard to mistake who they are; unless you can't even tell the difference between yellow and because you're so high.

Bruce and Honolulu were left in a corner of their minds, at this point. Which silently, I think they were both grateful for. Sometimes a distraction, can be good. A moment to forget, a moment of release from the pain. They didn't forget, though, it didn't leave their minds completely; it just went away for a little while. And it will come back all too soon, with the force a silent tsunami. But for now, they can just relish in friendship, and be somewhat happy. Clint probably better has a grasp on the term 'happy' then Natasha ever will. No, scratch that, he definitely has a better grasp on it. Natasha just puts on another face.

Happy. How childish...

"Come on," Natasha said while reaching down to swipe the gun from him. "We should get him down to a precinct." She got in before Clint could protest. Then it made sense why Natasha grabbed the gun. Because Clint would have to carry the guy since he was passed out, he couldn't carry the gun, too; he would have to put it under his shirt, and then the police would think it was his, when Clint's gun is actually in his ankle holster.

When Natasha said 'precinct', Clint had to stifle a laugh. It sounded so weird for Natasha to say that. Spies and assassins don't do precincts. "Precinct?" His voice was light from laughter.

"What? You wanna take a drug addict to the Fridge?" Natasha asked with a hint of annoyance.

Clint pondered it for a moment, his face was a blank slate, thinking a comeback. "Yeah, okay." He muttered in defeat once he couldn't think of one.

Clint reached over to grabbed one of the man's limp arms to hoist his upper body over his shoulder. He stood up slowly once he had a good grip on the man, with the knowledge they won't topple over like a sack of bricks. He his arm wrapped tightly around the guy's waist, he was surprisingly light, probably had to do with all of the drugs. Clint felt something wet soak into his leather jacket, and for a second he wanted drop the guy who soaking in urine; but then he realized that wouldn't be the best idea he ever had. "I don't get paid enough for this..." Clint muttered in a tired voice, thinking about how the closet precinct was about a four mile walk, and that whole time he would be getting pee all over his clothes. Lovely.

"You don't get paid at all." Natasha reminded the poor man, while walking away from the front of the cafe, down the path to the side walk.

He was about say differently, but then remembered that after SHIELD collapsed, and he moved into the Tower, he didn't get paid anymore; but there wasn't really a reason to be paid when you're living in a modern, New York skyscraper for free. "Oh, yeah." Clint said in a light voice again from amusement, and continued on the very painful trek to the precinct, following after Natasha, who had a head start.

It was around 8:30 PM in the communal kitchen/dinning room. The moon was up, and cities lights danced across sky. The night sky was a beautiful royal blue, swirling throughout the winds, a never ending dream. Every light, from every window, in every building, was shown all the way to the heavens. The moon was at the center of it all, bursting with life, lighting the darkness to find your way home. A beacon of hope, in what seems so torturous.

Thor used his cooking skills to make a beautiful, and delicious, mouthwatering meal. It was grilled steak, cooked to perfection, topped with a creamy, silky, alfredo sauce, and finally paired with cooked asparagus, almost burnt-but not, just the right amount. The steak was medium rare, just a little bit pink, and the juices were sizzling down the side, the smell was enough to make you beg. It was amazing, just like usual; being with Jane for a few years caused Thor's cooking skills to skyrocket. He learned by watching a bunch of videos of Martha Stewart and Julia Child, it's not like he had a choice, Jane's cabinets were barely stocked with foods that were two weeks old.

They don't always sit together for meals, most of the time they each go to their own kitchens, in their own apartments in the Tower. But on the rare occasion they do eat together, it's a rule that Thor makes the meals since he's the only one that can. Tony was usually the first one to leave, the man never cleans up after himself, when he finished his meal he would maybe sit around for another ten minutes, and he would race down to the lab. Tony spends about 60% of his time in the lab, 30% is with Pepper-the only person who seems to keep his head on straight-and the last 10% is for missions. Clint would usually leave next, he might help a little with the cleaning, but that's not really style-but this time he wasn't there, at all. As soon as he and Natasha got back from dropping off the guy at the police station, Clint made a b-line for the shower, and hasn't left since. He's also planning on burning all of his clothes that he wore. Thor would always help with the cleaning, he even enjoyed it-almost anything can please that man-but not this time; he had a date with Jane, and no way was he missing that. Thor just made the dinner for the rest and took off as quick as lightening (pun intended).

That just left Natasha, Bruce and Steve to clean everything up...it was awkward. Especially for Steve, having to watch the interactions between Bruce and Natasha, or should I say, lack of interactions. He felt like a third wheel, or just an awkward outsider watching through a screen. Anytime Natasha is anywhere near Bruce, he immediately moves to another area of the kitchen. It was awful, you cut the tension with a knife.

Bruce wondered why he didn't just leave the kitchen, it would make everything easier, and so much less uncomfortable. But as cheesy as it sounds, he couldn't leave the truckload of heavy dishes to just two people, this nagging part in his chest would let him do it. So Bruce was forced to be there, hating every moment, counting the seconds until it was over. The part that really bothered him, though, was that Natasha didn't seem as afraid, he couldn't sense that bone shaking fear like he did before. There was fear there, it just wasn't as intense. Bruce was always so confused when it came to Natasha's fear of him, or the other guy-maybe both; should he glad that she isn't as afraid? Or should this anger him because she's being oblivious and careless?

Natasha could sense how uncomfortable Bruce was through his body language and everything. She wasn't a fan of this situation, either, she also knew that Bruce was far more uncomfortable than she was. Natasha wasn't even sure if he was still breathing by how pale he looked. Being near someone that did obviously not want to be near her, was awkward enough, but this person also just so happened to have the Hulk under his skin, which just made everything worse. Ever since seeing Bruce on the rooftop, staring into the sunset, Natasha knew he wasn't dangerous, but he's still the vessel of the Hulk; she wished that didn't scare her like a child, but it did. Natasha felt like a coward, but there was a part of her that never wanted to feel so helpless again, like she was on helicarrier.

While putting the bottle of wine that was never opened, back in the wine cooler, Natasha slowly turned back around just enough to look over her shoulder; she caught a glimpse of Bruce looking at her, it was just for a second, and then he went back to washing the dishes. The way he was looking at her, though, with such curiosity and intent, like he was studying her. It was like Bruce was just waiting for Natasha to do something; but what? Scream and run in terror? Yeah, that's probably it. But no way was Natasha ever going to cower like a child in the dark. Not again; not ever.

As soon as he saw Natasha that caught him looking at her, Bruce whipped his back to the sink so quickly, he thought he got whiplash. It's true, Bruce was studying her, wondering why she just doesn't run, wondering why is bothers him so much. This whole has his head spinning left and right; ever since Natasha came to the Tower-which has only been for a week or so-made his always constant headache grow, if that was even possible. From her not being afraid at all, to her shaking her very core, and barely even sweating, but still noticeable to Bruce. He's glad that she's afraid, and he hates that she's afraid; at this point, he has no idea what to think. Bruce still wondered why Natasha didn't run, but then it hit him, she's the Black Widow, she would rather die, than run.

Natasha could sense that Bruce wouldn't leave, even though, he wanted to so badly. Sometimes, Bruce was too kind for his own good; a sheer amount of kindness, is compelling him to stay in a situation that is practically leaving him breathless. Even though the exit is only a few away, and his hands are nearly shaking, Natasha knew is wasn't going to budge an inch; he's stubborn, that's a trait common amongst the Avengers.

So, she left for him.

After closing the door to the wine cooler, Natasha walked back into the open of the kitchen where Steve was putting leftovers in the fridge and Bruce was still washing dishes at the sink. There was a lot of dishes, Steve and Bruce can wolf down a mountain of food like no one's business, guess having your whole DNA reshaped can do that to you.

A part of Natasha wanted to stay back and help, and not give into the part that said she was just doing this for Bruce and not for herself, to not give into the small part of fear, she didn't want to deal her cards first and show her hand. Natasha wanted to give into the stubborn aspect of the situation, wait him out, watch Bruce sweat until he can't handle it anymore, she wanted to give into the worst parts of herself; like always. But Natasha wouldn't let herself do that, she's already done that before.

"Alright boys," Natasha started, while walking over to the staircase, Steve closed the door to the fridge and Bruce looked up nervously at her. "I'm turning in." She gave in, coming up with an excuse to leave, Natasha could've very well slipped out, unnoticed; but for some reason, she decided against it, and went out the harder way. She turns her attention to Steve and curls lips into a devious smile. "Rogers, make sure you set your Westclox for 7:30 sharp, tomorrow night." She said in a tone that matched her grin. Doing this thing with Steve; made Natasha forget...to just joke or whatever...can make her forget about...herself. It's a nice break, but that's all it is; a break, nothing more, nothing less; but it's something in a void of nothing.

Steve bit back a groan. He knows that he flat out asked for a friendship with Natasha, but sometimes she really wore him out. This was a perfect example. "How could I forget?" He sarcastically questioned, while leaning against the closed doors of the fridge and crossing his arms. "You've been reminding me for the past five days." Steve muttered with a sigh of annoyance; not true annoyance, though, more like...friendly banter. They do that a lot.

"Got to keep you on your toes, soldier." Natasha quipped back.

He didn't hold back his groan that time. "You've been doing a mighty fine job of that." Steve dryly noted. He was just glad because the weight bearing tension was gone. He knew the comfortable front Natasha was putting on, was beyond fake. Her stance, her voice, her flirtation, her smirk; just one big mask. Sometimes it's hard for Steve to tell the difference between when Natasha was wearing a mask, and when she wasn't; because her mask rarely-if ever-comes off. So, her mask...becomes her only face.

"Glad to know I got a good review." Natasha said it in a way that sounded like she was talking about something completely different. It's a good thing there aren't any kids around. Steve proceeded to dip his head down and hold his forehead with the palm of his hand. Bruce just kind of quirked his eyebrow at that, but decided not to say anything. Natasha felt like she got enough 'talk' in before she could leave, like she was filling some sort of quota, which sounds terrible but Natasha was always filling some sort of quota, they were just usually more bloody. Wearing a mask of pretending everything was fine, took a lot more energy than you would assume, and she was running on empty; being alone can usually fill Natasha back up, get her orders straight, then it's back to wearing the mask. "Later," Natasha said as a parting and Steve gave a slight wave of his hand as gesture in return, but Bruce didn't really do anything. That didn't really surprise her, though, she barely acknowledge him all evening. To each other, they were pretending they were wisps in the air, with the force of an elephant.

As soon as Natasha said 'later', she was gone.

Bruce went back to washing the remnants of food away from a plate, he felt like he could breath a little easier, like a huge weight was lifted of his chest, but not really. There was always a sinking feeling inside of him-and not just because of the other guy-this whole thing of living with someone who was almost killed by the other guy, was not something Bruce ever expected; then again, he never expected to be sharing his mind with a science experiment-but here we are.

But then something piqued Bruce's curiosity, and he couldn't get rid of it. As he went over what just happened, he realized something. What the heck were they just talking about?

Apparently Steve noticed Bruce's confusion through his expression, and the way he was absentmindedly washing the plate while staring off into space, it was almost laughable, but he also knew that something else was on Bruce's mind, and that wasn't laughable. "It's a date." Steve started, pulling Bruce out of the haze. Then it all made sense, Bruce overhears the two of them talking about setting Steve on dates all the time, Steve usually tries to get out of them but fails miserably. "Andrea, I think is her name." Steve said while making a grab for one of the dried dishes to put away in a cupboard above his head. "Nice, blond, little terrifying." He told Bruce in a completely casually tone, with the undertones of 'help me!'

Bruce made some sort of acknowledgment to Steve, but even though Bruce heard every word, and paid attention to everything he was saying; he was off in his own little world. His mind was filling with morbid, dark thoughts, a constant there, like usual as of late, Bruce's thoughts went to Natasha, thinking over every situation that went over in his head, as to how this 'thing of fear' with her is so freaking confusing; he was thinking about in some weird way, Bruce became afraid of Natasha. He's afraid that she's isn't afraid, he's afraid that she is, he's afraid that there will never be a cure; Bruce is just...afraid. It's always been like that, he has his Father to thank for that one.

Bruce was absentmindedly scrubbing the grime off of a cooking pan, barely even noticing the water going over his hands, or the sponge in his grasp. His only focus was nothing, and everything; all the things of that kept him calm, and all the things that destroyed him. It burned what was going on in Bruce's mind, it killed anything living, and suffocated anything with color. All black and white, all dead. Bruce fears Natasha. Does she fear him, does she fear the other guy; both? Is there any hope for a cure, or is it all dried up?

Steve must've noticed it again, and knew exactly what Bruce was thinking about, what was haunting him, consuming him. "You got to let her come to you." Steve told him, while grabbing a rag to dry off the dishes that were laid on top of a towel on the counter.

It didn't really snap Bruce out of his fog, but he was still listening. "Huh?" Still washing the same cooking pan.

"Romanoff," Steve started. Bruce darted his head to him instantly, that did the trick, now Bruce was completely listening, little terrified, but listening. "You got to let her come to you." He simply stated, not even looking at Bruce. He was trying to make this conversation as casual and uncomfortable as possible, because he knew that this talk was going to have Bruce sweating bullets-like birds and the bees-but it was one that he desperately needed.

Boy, was Steve right, Bruce did not want to be there for this. He was about to question how did Steve even know about what was going on between them, but Bruce realized how obvious it was, so that wasn't going to do any good. But Bruce himself didn't really expect what was going on, how he was living with someone the other guy almost ran over; about who was afraid, and who wasn't. It was all these details that hogged Bruce's mind, and he wasn't ready to share that with anyone else. So, Bruce tried to play it off, poorly, though. "I, uh, I don't what you're-"

"Banner," Bruce could tell by Steve's tone he wasn't messing around, it struck something inside of him, Bruce slowed his circular movement of the sponge to a stop and turned his head to Steve who was also looking at him. He was looking at Bruce with such intent, such determination; Bruce had to will himself not to fidget under his stare. "You can't hide from this forever." Why is it that Steve always sounds like someone who is giving an epic speech that's going to rally everyone together to fight off the aliens with ships the size of a city? Why did he have to be so freaking right?

Bruce knew that nobody could hide from anything, forever. He knew more than anyone, he tried to hide from himself, and failed miserably. He tried to hide from his past, and it came up to smack him in the face. You can't hide from anything. But that did not mean that Bruce was not going to try. He found that Bruce's gaze was too uncomfortable, so his focus went back to washing the dishes; and Steve also looked back to the plate in his hand and began to dry it. "Been doing a pretty good job, so far." He offered a lie, hoping that would be enough, that he could leave this conversation. Because knew that he was doing a terrible job, beyond horrible at it. The master of hiding couldn't-surprise, surprise-hide from a master assassin. No matter how hard Bruce tried to ignore it, it didn't disappear, it just grew, and grew until it was the only thing he could see.

Steve knew it, too. "No you haven't." He simply stated, he was never one for dancing around the elephant, he preferred going in head first. Bruce spends half his time actively avoiding Natasha, Steve thought she was going to handle that on her own, but it's been a week, and things went from bad to worse; it felt like they were even more distant from each other than when she wasn't even living here. "You gotta trust your teammates on and off the battlefield." It's all about trust, trust keeps you alive out there, without it; you're dead. Steve trusted Bruce right off the bat, there was a war going on, far more important things to worry about. "I know that it's been harder for you guys since...since-uh..." Steve wasn't really sure how to put the rest of that sentence into words.

So, Bruce did it for him. "Since my green, alter ego almost trampled her in a confined space? Since then?" He offered dryly.

Steve just blinked at him for a couple of seconds, Bruce wasn't even sure he was breathing. "I was going to put a more delicate touch to it, but...yeah..." He slowly drew out, he almost forgot about Bruce's self deprecating humor.

Bruce didn't even remember almost killing her at first. It took a few hours for the memories to come back. Most of the time, he doesn't ever remember what the Hulk did, and if memories did come back, it was through vivid nightmares that haunted him. But for some reason, after about two hours of being back to his normal self, the memories of running Natasha down in the helicarrier, hit him like a train. "Yeah, but that was two years ago. Trust hasn't really been an issue for us." It hasn't ever been an issue for them , because they were never really around each other, and when they were, they managed to be professional, now that's not even working.

Steve could see what Bruce meant by that, but he also knows that information is entirely useless. "For the last two years, Nat only punched in required time for this team." After every mission, Natasha stayed around for maybe a day, then she went back to whatever hiding hole she had in New York; and when SHIELD fell, she was around even less, only around for missions, never to hang out. But then a week or so ago, Natasha moved in, however that happened. Steve was just glad she did, after SHIELD fell, she was really lost; she actually opened up to him, which is beyond rare. He knew Natasha wasn't okay, Steve was always worried about her when she took off in a quinjet, afraid she would do something stupid. "Now she's actually living here, so it's going to become a problem." He stated.

For a moment, Bruce wanted to say differently, to deny that's what was going to happen, but it's true. If they keep tiptoeing around each other it's going to blow up in their faces. "Hasn't been one yet." That answer wasn't much better, but it was the only one he could think of.

"But it has." Steve pointed out. Bruce was about to say something else to that, but Steve cut him off at the pass. "Look, Natasha's the only person I know that can match Stark in stubbornness." He figured saying that would be good, since Bruce knows better than anyone how stubborn Tony can be; and Steve knows how stubborn Natasha can be, the only one who might know more than him is Clint. "She's not going to let a little fear control her." He's seen Natasha go against twelve men with guns while she has nothing but her bare hands; no one controls Natasha, but Natasha.

"There's a chance you might be wrong, and I highly doubt that it's little." Even Bruce knew that was a long shot. At least the first part, but Bruce is sure-or hopeful, or fearful-about how much she is afraid.

Bruce said it in a way that Steve could sense all the undertones of guilt, self hate, morbidity, and green. He knew that Bruce blamed himself for all of it, he blamed himself for Natasha's fear of the other guy, he blamed himself for the other guy almost killing her. Steve wanted to shake him, and tell him that's not true; but he knew that wouldn't do any good. "I'm not, though." He corrected. "You just haven't given her a chance to prove it. You're the one that keeps backing away." He's seen it every time they're in the same room, if Bruce is within twenty feet of Natasha he'll move away as fast as he can. So, if there is any chance of them actually building a trust, Bruce is making it impossible because they're never around each other. Steve hasn't seen Natasha go after, but that's probably because she doesn't want to spook him, and she's still getting her fear under control. After saying that, Bruce dawned an even more guilty look, and it made Steve feel horrible, but he needed to hear this. "Just let her come to you. Give her a chance to control her fear." He told him, because that's the only way it was going to work.

Bruce was going to say 'no' say that it wasn't going to work. He thought about just running away, it would be so simple, the exit was only a few feet in front of him. He could just walk out, and be done with this conversation, wouldn't have to think about it anymore, but Bruce would think about it, he's always been thinking about it, it's tearing him in two, and he's letting it. Bruce thought about denying it, listing all the reasons of how wrong Steve is; of how once someone is afraid of the Hulk, they are always afraid of the Hulk, it's just logical.

But the weird part was, that because it was Steve Rogers who was telling him all of this, almost made Bruce believe. Steve can make anyone believe anything, with that 'leader voice' thing he has going on. But it still wasn't enough for Bruce to change his views, just enough to make him think differently, for a second, like a dream; a wisp of a memory, and nothing more. It was enough, though, to make Bruce laugh; it was morbid laugh, apparently that's the only Bruce knows how to make. "You know, they don't call you Captain America without reason." Bruce thought of saying something else that actually had to do with the whole 'fear thing', but he recognized this as his only out, and he took it; Bruce didn't want this conversation to last any longer than it already has.

Steve just let out a small laugh in return.

The aggression, the fear, it was all so much. Natasha hated that a part of her was still fearful of the Hulk, she wasn't suppose to be afraid of anything. She looks at Bruce, and she tries to just see Bruce, but a part her can still sense the other guy, and how he can just bust out at any moment; that's what terrifies Natasha.

Nothing scared Natasha, nothing could control her, but this fear was; and Natasha hated it. She wished she wasn't afraid, she wished she could be in the same room as Bruce and not have sweat running down her neck. She wished that every time she was in a room where Bruce was, he wouldn't run away, like some sort of...well, like Bruce. But, since Natasha was wishing for things; she wished she never got him mad to let out the Hulk in the first place. But, the Hulk was let out, and he did try to kill her; Natasha was afraid of Bruce; and for some reason, he was afraid of her. She wasn't sure why someone with the Hulk inside of them could be afraid of her; but he was.

Natasha thought she finally had a handle on the fear since she watched Bruce on the roof that one evening, but no. The fear didn't go away, it just made itself smaller, harder to notice, organized itself; but it was still there, just hiding in the shadows. Natasha wanted to punch the fear out of her, but that's not how thing work. It felt ridiculous to be afraid, she felt like some sort of child, but Natasha was never a child; yet here she was, having some sort of petty fear, it was stupid. But Natasha couldn't shake herself out of it.

Since Natasha couldn't punch her way out of the fear, she at least thought she could use that pent up aggression on something else. So, after the awkward cleaning scene at dinner, she went down to the gym, and she's been down there for the two hours; just hoping some of this anger will leave her. Natasha spent the last hour and a half just punching her way out on a punching bag. With every kick, and every punch, the anger did not go away. At one point, she kicked the bag so hard, sand started to spill out, but that wasn't the first time that had happened, and Natasha was too wrapped up inside her head to care. Punching did not work, so she went in for something stronger, something that was bound to work; in for the kill. She could deny it, say something like that doesn't work, because it was so disturbing, and wrong; but it did work. Shooting targets helped Natasha calm down, something about striking perfectly in the middle of the head, could release the tension in her shoulders, and undo the knots. She hated that this helped calm her down, she wished that normal things like yoga, or weed could bring her back down; but killing targets helped Natasha immensely.

So, that's what she's been doing doing for the last half hour; gripping the cool metal of the gun, pointing at the piece of black, heavy duty cardboard, which had white lines on it to outline the fake person, pulling on the trigger, hear the sound ricochet throughout the advance gym, and watch as the bullet flew through the air and made a small hole in the target from wherever she aimed it to hit. But using just one gun, wouldn't be enough for Natasha, so she used two; one in each hand, switching off with every fire. Natasha has perfected this technique, she's been doing it this way since she was a kid. The only difference was when she was a kid, she used live targets, like a slaughterhouse. Fire in right; switch to the left; fire in left, switch to the right. Repeat. It wasn't deadly since Natasha was the only person in the room.

At least, that's was she thought; until she smelled it. Natasha smelled the scent of motor oil, chemical products, and really expensive cologne. That could be only one person. Tony.

Natasha couldn't really deal with him right now, or anyone for that matter. She just wanted to be left alone, and blow off steam by shooting off targets. So, she just completely ignored him, and just kept pulling the trigger.

Right hand 'bang'.

Switch.

Left hand 'bang'.

Switch.

Right hand 'bang'.

Switch.

Etc.

But Natasha should've known that Tony wouldn't take the hint, because he just stood there watching her, not saying anything. But she just kept ignoring him, praying that'll go away, leave her in peace; but Tony thought of no such thing. "I'm not really going to announce myself since you already know I'm here." He said simply. Natasha gave nothing to say that she knew that Tony was there, but of course, he knew that she knew' it was just something to be taken for granted. For a second, Natasha thought about turning around and shooting him, just a simple twist and pull.

Even though it would feel amazing, the repercussions would be catastrophic, so in reality, it actually wasn't worth it, even Natasha really wanted to. And whatever would come out of Natasha's mouth if she started to talk to anyone right now-especially Tony-would be far from kind, any many words that could start a war. So, she just played it safe, and stayed quiet. "Silent treatment, huh?" He questioned, moving behind Natasha to the other side of her, becoming a little more in her view. "I'm pretty sure women have that ingrained in their DNA." That was definitely the wrong thing for Natasha to hear right now, and it certainly did not help her blood pressure. Don't shoot. Don't shoot. Don't shoot.

Natasha knew that Tony wasn't going to go away anytime soon. So, bitterly, she decided to open her mouth. "Don't you have somewhere better to be?" She bit out while not looking at him. She aimed her right hand at the target to shoot, but then she heard the click back, signifying the chamber was empty; Natasha was so lost in thought and in anger, she forgot to count. She mentally cursed herself for not keeping track, but she'd rather just curse the billionaire.

She turned to this little console-thing on her left, and touched the little touchscreen for it to eject another chamber for her to empty, it popped out by this small, metal flap; it was like some sort of sideways, vending machine for ammo. "Tons of places," Tony casually replied, which only irked Natasha more. She put the mag into place with a little more force than necessary, and then did the same with her left gun which was also empty. "But I'm fine right here." Tony added, which meant that there was an actual meaning from him to be there but he wasn't going to give it up yet.

"I'm honored." Natasha dryly retorted, then she pulled the trigger in her right. One. She switched to her left. One.

"You should be," He then huffed in annoyance. "I could've stayed in the lab, or had some alone time with Pepper, if you catch my drift." Tony said 'alone time' in a very dirty tone, that nearly made Natasha point the gun at him. Two, right. Two, left.

She definitely knew what he was talking about, and she had to suppress the bile that inched it's way up her her throat. "Drift's been caught," Natasha said in a very tired tone, this day has really worn her out-no, wait-this week has. "Trust me." She needed no more details on the matter than what's already been distributed. Three, right. Three, left.

Tony just kept on talking, barely even noticing that Natasha said something. "But I chose to come here." He said it in a very high and mighty tone. Tony really should realize that he probably shouldn't talk like that to Natasha when she has a gun in her hand, or ever, for that matter. But Tony really did have a reason for coming here, this wasn't just a run of the mill, casual visit, there was business to be done. This talk is one that has been put off for far too long, but not anymore. But Tony couldn't just blurt it out, for fear of getting a bullet in the brain, but this couldn't go unnoticed, it had to be discussed and it needed to be dealt with. He just had to take the scenic route.

The sound of the bullets kept ricocheting throughout the walls of the training area, and it was the only sound made within the walls. For a while, neither of the two talked, it was beyond disturbingly silent, even though the 'bang' of bullets nearly pierced Tony's eardrums. The air was so tense it nearly pushed him into the ground and then fifty feet under. It was a terrifying thought, but Tony could tell that Natasha was imaging that the target was him, and she was enjoying every second of it. He swallowed the lump in his throat because he realized that if someone didn't say something soon, nothing was going to be done. "So..." Tony started slowly with a long draw of his breath. "How's Anastasia?"

That was the wrong thing to say.

Every bullet that Natasha shot out of the chamber made the kill shot, straight for the head, but this bullet went a little bit lower than the head. Correction-a lot lower. Tony involuntarily flinched, and covered himself up, he could feel the sweat began to form and really wished he knew when to actually shut up. He also swallowed a very girlish squeak that wanted to leave his throat. A filter could've saved him a lot of time from being blown up and shot at.

With that statement, all of Natasha's patience was dried up and she did not care. Tony was here for something and was not leaving until her got it, he's stubborn like that. At that point, Natasha did not care what it was, she would gladly give it to him on a silver platter, she just wanted him to leave, and then she could meddle with her dark thoughts in peace. After that shot, she briskly put both of her guns down at her side and quickly turned to Tony. Natasha's eyes were extracted from the devil and Tony was seriously hoping someone knew where his will was. "If you wanna talk; talk. It's a free country." Natasha knew she was making an open invitation to talking with Tony Stark, but if she doesn't do this, Tony might never go away; and that's a nightmare all in itself. "Don't waste my time with talk about the weather, something's on your mind." She said in a very threatening tone. "And if you ever make a comment like that again," Natasha took the faintest of steps forward, but it was enough to know that she meant business. "I might be a little flaky with my aim." Each and every word of her threat, were entirely 100% true.

Tony really should've known that beating around the bush was not Natasha's style, and now, he might pay dearly for it. He swallowed and his Adam's Apple made a very noticeable dip. "I will agree to your terms," He said nervously and slowly, and made a quite note to find his will when this is over to make sure it's still where he left it. "If you put down the guns first." Tony gestured to the dangerous ammo that was still in Natasha's grasp. It was safer to say what he was going to say next when there was still a distance between them-so there was no chance of flying legs-and no long distance weapons. But since this was Natasha, she could probably kill Tony by sheer will alone.

Natasha's stare only grew harder, she was reading Tony's expression to see if he was being serious. The man wasn't as petrified as before, but he was still wary, but that was it, well, and a slight fidget of nervousness. She might as well hear what he has to say, what does she gotta lose anyway?...Perfect last words. Natasha eventually softened her stare, and loosened the muscles of her shoulders, with a soft sigh she turned around and placed her guns on the metal rack that was already stacked to the brim guns. Natasha turned back to face Tony and with a breath through her nose, she made a motion of her hand to silently say 'continue'.

At first, Tony was still a little hesitant to say anything, he really didn't feel like dying just yet; but he then realized that if he says nothing-Natasha will get mad; if he just ups and leave-she'll probably still get mad at him for chickening out; if Tony says what he came there to say-Natasha will rip his head off. So, any option that Tony chooses to use, will end in blood, so he might as well actually do something productive. He opted for the third door. The problem was now, how was he going to form what he needed to say into words? Because right now, Tony's mind was running a complete, and total blank.

He needed to say something, and something soon because Natasha was starting to get really impatient. She folded her arms of her chest and started to tap her fingers on her arm. The tapping was the only sound filling the silence and it only made the sweat pouring off of Tony even worse. His mind was still empty, and something had to be said, Tony was getting so annoyed to the point where he thought about banging his head against the wall to get a jump start. Natasha raised a single eyebrow, like she was testing him, seeing if he really wanted to play this game. Tony couldn't take it anymore. Screw it. It's all coming out at once. "You gotta talk to Bruce." He said in one quick breath.

Cat's out of the bag.

Natasha made no movement. Her fingers stopped tapping; but her arms were still crossed, and her eyebrow was still raised. She was just like a freaking statue. Tony wasn't even sure she was still breathing. Did her soul vacate her body? Is she brain dead? Maybe she's plotting all the ways she can Tony without touching him? It's all highly possible. Tony opened with the biggest present, so it can only go down from here, there's no stopping now. It might have been a smart idea to stop there, and leave while he still had a chance, but most people have wonderful idea of using their brains and listen to the big, flashing red lights. Tony wasn't even sure if Natasha heard him the first time. But then he realized that's stupid-she's just processing-and just kept talking. "You've been prancing around each other for two years, and somehow-magically-it's gotten worse." Everyone's seen how they act around each other-or better yet-how they don't act. The two of them avoid each other at all costs, but if they did run into each other, they would be entirely professional-awkward tension-but professional, nonetheless. Now if they run into each other, Bruce darts like he's seen Natasha naked.

Natasha still didn't move. Completely still. An atomic bomb could land on the Tower and explode-yet somehow, she would still be standing there. Tony wasn't even sure if he was making matters worse, or better. I guess it didn't matter, though, he's already gotten this far, might as well keep going. "Bruce already made the first move, and then it completely backfired." Tony remembered sending Bruce up to the roof to talk to Natasha, and he didn't think it would go perfectly, but it might clear some of the air. But for some reason, the air was replaced by tar, that makes it impossible to get through. "So, now it's your turn to swing the bat, and hopefully you don't miss." And also because Bruce will probably not do it again, but Tony decided to leave that part out.

Nothing. That didn't get anything out of Natasha. She made no signs of moving from her post. Most terrifying part was that her eye's stayed completely focused on Tony and not anything else. She was practically following him without even doing anything. Tony felt the chill go down his spine from Natasha's watchful, silent stare. "Forget scarecrows, birds will crap themselves after seeing you from hundred yards away." The man really is an idiot. Tony really thought that would have gotten something out of Natasha, like her grabbing a knife and aiming it for his head. But nothing. He could be talking to a statue of marble for all he knows that's been painted really well, there would be absolutely no difference. "Nothing, really?" He questioned in annoyance, Tony really hoped that pressing her buttons in a certain way would get Natasha to snap out of her trance, but no muscles were in the process of moving.

To be honest, it was getting on Tony's nerves, he was talking to a deadly assassin, not a wall. He just wanted some sort of reaction, a twitch, a sneeze, a rampage to destroy the whole world, planning his funeral...wow, that went downhill really fast. If Tony wanted a two-way conversation, he's going to have play dirty, might get him killed, but if Natasha hasn't even lifted a finger after all he's already said, it won't make much of a difference. He needed to say what needed to be said, and if Tony was only going to be talking to a wall, he might as well get what he needed to say all out at once. He had to say it, because it might just be enough to push Natasha over the edge, and she finally wake up and come to her senses.

"Okay, fine, you wanna know my opinion?" There was no turning back now. "I think you're being a coward." Tony didn't even check to see if what he was saying, had caused a reaction on Natasha. Once the ball got rolling he couldn't stop it. He didn't even care if this was going to make her made mad, because he knew that it was the only thing that was going to work. "You're letting your emotions dictate your actions, and it's getting no one nowhere." Tony was speaking the truth entirely, most people would've probably used a far more delicate touch to the situation-but it's the Black Widow-he knows Natasha can handle it. "We haven't been called out into the field, yet, but soon we will; and whether you like it or not, this thing between you and Bruce-will cause inference." That might be pushing the truth just a little. Bruce and Natasha are professional enough, and also, Bruce doesn't go out into the field. But he still plays the third eye and overlooks the field from a screen, and he is in all team meetings, and if the trust is off by even a little bit, it could knock the whole course off balance. "Now, we can play the blissful ignorance card, and pretend we're as blind as a bat to the problem, or you can go up to the lab where he is right now and face the big, green problem head on." They could ignore this and pretend it never happened, but that won't make the problem disappear, and this needs to be dealt with and put this behind them. It was clearly wrecking Bruce, Tony could see it everyday in the lab, even though Bruce would never mention it, this thing between the two of them was becoming a major issue, and if not worked out-it will become catastrophic.

Tony knew without even a second glance, that Natasha was still frozen. Her mind must still be fiddling through all of this information, but he really thought it would have all been fiddled out by now. But clearly, he was wrong, since Natasha looked like something out of the Versailles' Gardens, maybe the Reaper. Tony decided to add one last quick notion for her to work out, and maybe it will actually get her motor running. "So, what's it going to be?" He questioned. "Keep playing 'make believe' and pretend everything's alright, while Bruce runs amok every time you're within a noticeable proximity?" That-under no circumstances-cannot happen, it would be absolute chaos. There's already been a noticeable shift in the air for the last week, imagine for a life time? No, this has to be fixed. "Or are you actually going to go him-like we both know you will because you're not a coward-and face up?" Tony's known Natasha long enough to know that 'coward' is the exact opposite description of her, it has been proved many, many times over, and over again. This wasn't a surefire way, though, but it was the only way that he could think of, because Natasha might never go to face Bruce head on, but the overwhelming sense of intuition said something different. That she was going to be as stubborn as possible and go against the voice in her head, and finally talk to Bruce.

Tony just hoped he was right about the gut feeling, because Natasha didn't move.

Not a single muscle twitched.

She made no movement forward, backward, left or right, she just stayed in her exact spot. Natasha's eyes didn't even blink, and it looked extremely uncomfortable to stay like that, but they did keep staring which made this moment of pure waiting even worse. For a moment, Tony nearly felt the word 'Medusa' slip from his tongue but he managed to hold it back, it would probably just make things worse.

The seconds that went by felt like they were turning into hours, an unending vortex of time spiraling into nothingness. That gut feeling, the intensity of intuition in Tony's bones kept slipping with each passing second, it was withering away into dust as they went further into their moment of silence, and waiting.

It's pointless, Tony thought. They were going to have to come to each other on their own terms , no one was going to force them into anything.

But then something changed.

Tony must've been pressing the wrong buttons in the right order, because the next words from Natasha's mouth were, "Not bad, Stark." and then she simply turned and left the training center.

To state the obvious, Tony was shocked, he was surprised to the point where he took on Natasha's role and became as stiff as a statue just out of pure shock. He had no idea what to do, he no idea what just happened. Was is good? Was it bad? What just the heck just happened? Should he be afraid for his life? A million thoughts ran through Tony's and it paralyzed his body.

Uh...

It was a march. A march to the line of war. Maybe the march of death.

Natasha kept putting one foot in front of the other, all the while cursing the name that is Tony Stark for managing to actually talk her into to doing this. She silently listened to words that came out of his mouth-no-she forced herself to listen to him. All Natasha wanted to do-was run, get as far away as she could because knew Tony was right, he was right about all of it. He was right about her being a coward, he was about the fact the this rift between her and Bruce will cause problems in the field. Natasha was being a coward, she was letting her own petty, little fear, control her; something that she thought would never happen to her, fear didn't warp her mind in Manhattan two years ago, or during Budapest. But her mind was definitely being warped right now, it was absolutely pathetic. Natasha wanted him to be wrong, but Tony was so-frigging-right that it hurt her teeth. She just wished she came to the conclusion herself that she needed to talk to Bruce, and not have lived through the humiliation of Tony doing it for her; but what's done is done, there's no turning back now.

As soon as Tony finished his little speech Natasha found her strength in pure will, and moved as quickly-but calmly-as she could, if she slowed her pace-by even a little bit-that would give her time to think, to hesitate, to regret, to run. So, she she didn't slow down, she took the stairs, because if Natasha took the elevator she would slow down, and then all of that stuff would happen. She practically flew up the stairs, letting all of those years of training come to good use. Natasha went up to perch, to perch, to perch, but it was taking her a lot further than she thought, her muscles were nearly on fire by how far she was pushing herself. The constant running and pure fear of slowing down, gave Natasha a rush of adrenaline that spiked her to run even faster-if possible. But the staircase still seemed to go on forever, and ever, a never ending vortex of constant stairs going up, and up, and up. Even at this rate of going freaking super speed, it was giving her time to think, since it was taking so long, it was giving Natasha time for her mind to catch up with what was going on, and what she was doing, which was not good. The floor to the lab could not come soon enough, because she needed to do this, she was not about to chicken out, not happening.

Wait a second...

All of a sudden, it hit Natasha on why the run to the lab was taking so long.

The lab is in the penthouse, the top floor, and the training center? It's in the basement.

Crap...

No wonder this was taking forever. I mean, Natasha is at the peak of physical fitness, has been for as long as she can remember; but taking the stairs for 98 floors, is going to make her break a sweat, or two. It's going to take way too long, long enough to make her think, which is the exact opposite of what she should do, because she won't talk herself into it-well, talk herself into it more-she talk herself out of it, and Natasha wasn't about to do that, she will not back down.

Natasha slowed to a hesitant stop, she didn't want to, but she had to formulate a plan, and she needed to gather all information and detail to make a plan. The muscles in her legs were rather grateful for the stop, they felt like they were about to fall off, she sucked in the glorious air that she was deprived of. Her chest heaved in and out, shifting in size with each breath, it was nice, but she couldn't stop for long. Natasha turned her head to see what floor she was on, to see how much farther she had to go.

35th.

She made good footing, had a lot of dust behind her, but the it was still too much to go on foot, it would take way too much time. Time Natasha does not have. So, she did what any sane person would do-if sane meant being absolutely twisted-she reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a silver cylinder. It wouldn't mean much to the untrained eye, but if you looked closely enough, you would see the little button on one end of the cylinder. Natasha held it in her hand over the railing, vertically, and pressed the tiny button. All of a sudden, a small hole opened up on the other end and out came shooting a grappling hook that went far enough to hit the ceiling that was still 63 floors away.

There was a little switch on the side of the cylinder, Natasha flicked it and everything was set in motion. She went flying like a bird through the stairwell, zipping past every floor with speed only seen outdoors with an engine. For a second, Natasha thought she was going so fast that she would make a hole through the roof...actually, that would be a really great way to press Stark's buttons, but that's not the most pressing matter at hand; just a bonus. Thankfully, there was no blowing through roofs, she stopped right before. It was the understatement of the year to say that Natasha's hair was a little out of place, it's like she just stood behind a tractor and waited for the wind to pick up drastically. She could just fix it later, though. She swung her body backwards, and shifted her weight just enough so she would swing forward over to the railing and land back on the concrete footing; all the while simultaneously pressing the button on the end of the cylinder so the hook would release itself from the ceiling.

When landing on the platform, Natasha swiftly took a few seconds to straighten out her hair, smoothing out all of the clumps and pulling the blood, red strands out of her face. She couldn't spend another second to slow down, so as soon as she landed she made a b-line for the door, she already took more than enough time to get up there, not another second could be wasted. Natasha opened the door so fast that it nearly came off it's hinges. She didn't use the main stairwell-the one with all of the windows-she used the one that's closer towards the center of the Tower, and because of that, when Natasha opened the door she was already in the labs which is a very good thing. No time to waste.

She ran down the hall as quickly as her feet could carry her. It wasn't a long run, because pretty soon, she was at the entry way of the lab, where the lab was, where Bruce was just down the hall; and that's when her feet stopped working. Natasha's muscles went cold, her breathing was somehow steady, and rapid at the same time. Just the thought of meeting with Bruce, of settling the ground, nearly sent her heart to a flat line. Natasha thought she could do this, she went up 98 floors with such confidence, and now...she couldn't bring herself to move. She looked down at her feet to see if maybe they just disappeared, no reason, just disappeared, because if her feet were gone, it would be a more reasonable explanation that just not being able to do it. Natasha was wrong. Her feet were still there, attached to her legs just like they were suppose to be. She just simply didn't have the energy to do it, her feet would not move, not even her head would listen to her commands to look straight ahead instead of at the floor, looking like a freaking idiot...a coward.

I think you're being a coward.

Of course. That had to have popped into her head. Stark couldn't leave her alone for more than five seconds. Usually, something like that would push Natasha into warp speed. No way would she ever let Tony believe she was a coward, no way would she ever let anyone believe that. But for some reason, it did absolutely nothing for her, he feet did not move, it didn't even cross her mind to push forward in that moment. Natasha just lost all energy, no explanation, it just simply...vanished. It was amazing, a part of her didn't give a crap that Tony labeled her as a coward, she's been called worse.

Why try and fix it? Who cares that she's afraid of the Hulk? Bruce is just as much as afraid of Natasha, the last few days have been clearly evident of that. It's not like she could go in there just make everything magically better, it doesn't work like that. She's not a purple dinosaur. It would be more than pointless to even try, nothing would work, it's just a waste of her time.

This sucks.

You're letting your emotions dictate your actions, and it's getting no one nowhere.

Oh, come-freaking-on!

This is absolutely ridiculous. Natasha shouldn't standing on the side lines, just letting the darkness take over-well, take over more-she shouldn't be cowering in the corner. She should never, ever hear Tony Stark inside her head, there's already been enough emotional damage. It's even worse when she agrees with him, pretty soon this will start effecting the team out in the field, which is where everyone has to have their head on straight. This sucks! Which means Natasha really does have to go in there, to repair the damage. if only she could move her feet. Hearing Stark inside her head should be motivation enough, but it's not.

This is so pathetic. She's built for stronger than this, something like the Hulk was never suppose to scare her off. But she is, and she hates it. Natasha hates it more than herself. She doesn't want to be afraid anymore, she can try and fool herself, but it would only make matters worse. She doesn't want to fear Bruce anymore, she doesn't want to fear the Hulk anymore. It's so tiring, it's been taking up her whole day. But even if Natasha does manage to bring herself to go in there, how is she going to get Bruce to listen to her? He's been avoiding her like the plague.

Ding.

There's her ticket.

It almost as if someone was watching her, because right at that moment, the elevators 'dinged' open, and Bruce walked right out. He clearly didn't notice Natasha or else there would be tread marks, and his head was buried into a tablet, going over statistics and stuff. She couldn't handle being afraid anymore, she was tired of it. So, Natasha decided to end it, end being afraid, end hiding away from each other, end it all. But there was still the nagging problem of she would get Bruce to sit still long enough to listen to her.

Light bulb. What if he doesn't have a choice?

The feeling in Natasha's legs come back rather quickly, from the top of her head, all the way to her toes, and she made her move. "Alright, that's it," Natasha muttered under her breath, too quiet for Bruce to hear. She was not going to be afraid anymore, enough is enough.

Natasha moved quickly, but quietly, towards Bruce. She grabbed his arm with enough force to bruise. That definitely caught him off guard, "Wha-" He couldn't make anymore noise just out of pure confusion as Natasha dragged Bruce along the hallway with just the pull of his arm. He knew better than to protest, because it looked like she was on a warpath and stopping her would just make things worse. Plus also, in the state of confusion Bruce wasn't sure what to do at all. He was just minding his own business, going over some data, and then all of a sudden this happened. This Tower gets weirder everyday.

Natasha dragged Bruce with a vengeance, this whole thing between the two of them was ending, once and for all. She just couldn't take it anymore, she couldn't take the hiding, giving into her fears, being a coward, she didn't have the energy to handle anymore. Natasha pulled Bruce along until they reached the workshop area of the lab, once they were there she shoved him ahead of her with a rather forceful push out of pure anger, Bruce stumbled ahead by only a few feet. He turned around to finally look at Natasha, hoping that she would give him an answer as to what the heck is going on, and he was only met with a cold, hard, tired stare.

Bruce could've snapped at her, yelling 'what the heck are you doing?' but the look on her face stopped him, she was here for a reason and she wasn't going to leave until she got what she wanted. Bruce didn't have it in him to stop her, Natasha looked surprisingly worn out. Dragging a man across a distance with no warning of who can also turn into the Hulk, meant that whatever she wanted to say was really important to her. So, Bruce stayed put, even though his entire being was screaming at him to leave, to run, and never look back. But he was very used to his insides having a different opinion, so he just politely told them to shut up.

Bruce patiently waited for her to say something, but all she did was keep heaving her chest in and out, but it wasn't out of exhaustion, it was out of frustration. Bruce knew, because he recognized, he knew it, he felt it, he has done that exact same movement many times over. The anger was so intense that literally took his breath away. Bruce still just waited for her to say something, but he had to admit, it was a tad bit awkward. After about fifteen seconds of silence, he decided to speak up. "I don't have my wallet on me." He quietly joked, hoping to lighten the mood, but all Natasha did was raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Sorry..." Bruce muttered sheepishly. "It was sorta uncomfortable in here, I was trying to lighten the mood." Her expression didn't change, but after the 'joke' the air felt a little heavier, and Bruce wanted to smack himself. Idiot. "Apparently, I'm not very funny," Bruce said more to himself than to Natasha, he does that a lot.

A thousand words were stuck on her tongue, some were rather intense-actually, all were intense. Natasha wanted to scream what was wrong, she wanted to punch something, tear everything apart, maybe just walk away and blame this whole thing on...the flu? No, that would never work. So, Natasha just to say it all at once, dive into the deep end with no life rafter. "I'm afraid of the Hulk." She tries to come of in a casual manner, but it kind of fails, her voice is all breathy from the strain of anger, the force from holding back her screams.

Of course. Bruce isn't sure why he didn't think of it sooner. It makes so much sense. No wonder why she dragged him by the arm. A pure force of adrenaline. Steve was right. Natasha was facing her fear head on, and clearly wasn't letting anything get in her way. But now learning that, it sort just thing even more uncomfortable, if that was even possible. "Okay..." Bruce slowly drew out. What else was he suppose to say?

"And I'm afraid of you." Natasha just letting everything come barreling out, no point in stopping it now. Bruce's face of confusion, a being partly uncomfortable didn't change, but something in his eyes slightly shifted, and Natasha knew that he was slightly horrified, and also not, like he was comforted by this fact, and it horrified him; if that makes any sense, because it doesn't. "I wish I wasn't, but I am." It was pathetic. A child's fear. She's the Black Widow for crying out loud, something like the Hulk shouldn't cause her to tremble in her boots, but it does. Natasha tried for the longest time, convinced herself that she wasn't afraid, that nothing bothered her; but she can't anymore. She was going to face her fear head on, literally.

"Well..." Mark this down the record, this is a conversation Bruce never thought he would have. Talking to someone about their fear of the Hulk, and said someone has been attack by the Hulk. Pretty sure talking a suicide bomber out of pressing the trigger would be an easier task. But here they are, going with the flow has never been Bruce's strong suit. "You're handling this better than most," That's the over statement of the year. "Usually people who've been squandered by the other guy's grotesquely, over sized feet...I never see again, for an abundant amount of reasons." They're dead, terrified...dead. No one's ever had the balls to go up and see him willingly on their own. This never should've happened, this isn't a possibility; but it's happening, and he has no idea how to handle it. Bruce had a hard enough time just getting those words out of his mouth, his brain practically fried in this situation. He is almost always tongue tied-being a very anti-social man-but this is just awful. There aren't exactly any books on 'how to talk to someone your alter ego almost killed.'

"It's still pathetic." Natasha barely muttered out. It was nice that Bruce was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but it doesn't change the fact that she was being a coward. She was acting like a child who was afraid of a thunderstorm and was hiding under the covers.

How on Earth was being afraid of the Hulk pathetic? It's not, it's sensible. It's smart to be afraid of the thing that could possibly kill you, that could crush you without even breaking a sweat. But then of course, it's Natasha, she judges herself on a higher scale than most, she pushes herself to the breaking point and the jumps 2 miles ahead. She doesn't let herself be afraid, she managed to handle herself just fine around Bruce for two years with no problem, only because she was fooling herself, then the gates opened all at once. Two years of pent up fear came barreling out at once, that's pretty intense. "I have something that can level cities underneath my skin," Bruce could very well just start listing all the reasons about how wrong Natasha is, but if he just starts belting it out, she might not stick around to listen. At first, it might have sounded really good that she would leave, but now...it's clear that she wants her fear to end; and even though, Bruce could think of all the reasons that she should keep her fear, let it save her. But they are teammates now, they have to trust each other, or ironically, someone could get really hurt, and the list of cons extremely outweighs the pros. "And you gave no warning as you grabbed me by the arm, dragged me across the lab, and physically shoved me three feet." Bruce wasn't looking for an apology or something, the man's got thicker skin than that. It was just a simple fact, to prove a point. "I don't think you're afraid as you think you are." No way could someone that has a bone fear of him, could possibly do all the things that Natasha just. It's possible that only Natasha could do those things, practically provoking something that tried to kill you. In a way, it almost makes sense, she lives her life on the cliff between fear and death.

Natasha just made an incredulous noise from her throat, like she didn't believe a word that Bruce just said. He didn't see were entire body just froze on contact when she made the floor of the lab, he wasn't there when she had a nightmare of the guy that made her wake up in cold sweats. The only time they've really seen each other so far, is when they accidentally ran into each other in the stairwell...then nothing. Natasha's afraid, pure and simple as that.

"Okay..." Of course, convincing her like that, it would be far too easy. Bruce just has to put in a little more elbow grease. "Well, maybe you are pretty terrified," He remembered when they met in the stairwell, he had never seen Natasha so terrified. Not during the fight of New York, not going against twelve armed men with nothing but her fists. In that moment, it was pure, unadulterated fear. When he said that, she didn't even flinch. Bruce thought saying Natasha was scared of anything, would've had him meeting her fist...repeatedly. But nothing, like at this point she had no reason to care. "But I think this round, pure will outweighed that fear." When Natasha grabbed his arm, Bruce had never seen her with such a look of determination. It was nothing but her will and strength, pushing her to do this. It was honestly a little terrifying.

For a moment, Natasha had honestly no idea how to respond. She never expected Bruce to put it quite like that, she certainly never expected him to be so blunt. It was kind of refreshing to be honest, no one was holding back, and yet, no one was hashing out...well, expect for Natasha, she was definitely hashing all of it out. It was all held in for a week, a week too long, but it reality, it was all held in for two years, for seven hundred and thirty days; far too long, and it nearly blew her apart. At least now Natasha doesn't have to hold it in anymore, she let it all out, and it wasn't as horrifying as she thought it would be. She didn't exactly have a clear picture of how it would go, but she definitely didn't imagine it to be so clean cut. But I guess, it makes sense, Bruce was just as terrified of this situation as Natasha was, he's been avoiding her like crazy for weeks. In a way, it was almost easier to have this conversation when knowing that the recipient of it all, was just as scared, or even more.

It was weird, but Natasha didn't find herself so very uncomfortable all of a sudden. It wasn't by much, but she didn't have this impending feeling of running away out of terror. The adrenaline had already left her system, Natasha thought as soon as that happened she would be screwed over, but she was wrong. Her heart rate slowed down, her breathing evened out, she was no longer sweating like crazy. The adrenaline was gone, and she calmed down, turns out, the rush of it all, had nothing to do with her staying.

It was just...not so scary anymore. Natasha wanted to show Bruce that she didn't feel so utterly terrified, that she wasn't the prowl, or coming off as a predator. So, she began to move around, she just started aimlessly walking about the workshop. There was some little trinket-thingy that she had no idea what it did, Natasha picked it up and twirled it around her hands before putting it back down. Doing this, it also seemed to cause Bruce to relax, because the tension in his shoulders disappeared, and his breathing became normal, and he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms instead of staying in the frozen, wary-to-move-a-muscle position. "I guess that's one way of putting it." Natasha muttered while not looking at him, what Bruce was saying, was beyond putting it softly, she was being a coward, she doesn't deserve softness. She just wants all of this to be put behind them, it's screwing everyone up.

"It's the only way to put it." Bruce quickly assured her. There really wasn't any other way to look at it, Natasha was afraid, but she refused to let that fear hold her down, so she didn't. It really was quite simple. Besides...Bruce was the one who put her in the position of fear in the first place, if anyone is to blame in the situation, it's him. Well, if we're being specific it would actually be the other guy, but he's never been one to apologize for his actions, that burden has always been placed on Bruce's shoulders. It was all his fault, but it was clearly evident that Natasha really hated herself for being afraid, which was really just plain stupid. It wasn't cowardly to be afraid of the other guy, it was smart. Why doesn't she see that? If he was never on that helicarrier, this never would've happened. Sometimes, Bruce really just wants to blame Natasha, it would be so much easier to blame someone else for once, but that's not fair, it wasn't her fault, it was his. Bruce was the one who decided to go with her, he's the one that got angry, he's the one who forced Natasha's hand to pull out the gun. It was all because of him. He let out a sigh, "I'm so-"

"Stop." Natasha stopped Bruce's apology with a single word and a raised hand. She refused to let him apologize for this, because as much as she feared the other guy, she knows that none of it was Bruce's fault, his hands are clean, it's the other guy's that aren't. "You're not going to apologize for that." No one should have to burden something that wasn't done by them, everyone already has so much to shoulder, and no one should ever have to carry something like this. "It wasn't your fault." Natasha told Bruce sharply, but softly while putting her hand back down.

"Please," Bruce barely got that word out through his breath. He had to to do this. "You have to let me do this." He needed to apologize. He already did once before, but that was in the middle of the war zone, and that was before he knew how truly terrified Natasha was. He had to apologize again because of it all, she was afraid because of him. Natasha opened her mouth and was about to intercept, say that wasn't true, but it was, and Bruce cut her off. "We could have an hour long argument, going back and forth about who's to blame; but I need to do this," They were going to living together in the same exact building, working on the same exact team, it was going to destroy Bruce from the inside living with someone who was nearly killed by the other guy; but a simple apology might help, might not, but it can't possibly make the situation worse. "Or else it's going to eat me."

Natasha looked into Bruce's eyes, to see what he was truly thinking, because the eyes never lie, you can try to cover them up, but the truth always seems to slip through them. When she looked into them, she saw fear, guilt, horror...a painted tragedy, then she realized something, Bruce wasn't doing this for Natasha, he was doing it for himself. Natasha couldn't very well say that, because he would deny that, say it that would be selfish. But it's not, the guilt was eating him alive, it has been for years, not just this on instance, but all of them, every single death, and it was breaking him down, she could see in his eyes. Natasha knew all to well what that guilt felt like, how it can wreck a person, and if this could lighten the load by even a little bit, she would be willing.

So, that's exactly what she did. Natasha made a flick of her wrist, as a way to say 'continue.'

Wow. Bruce honestly didn't expect her to agree to this, he knows she can be extremely stubborn, but that was actually pretty easy. But now what? What the heck was he suppose to say to the person who the other guy almost killed? He's apologized for destruction and stuff like that, but never directly to a person that survived his very green fists. Bruce has no idea what he should do, he's never thought that far ahead, he never even thought he would be in this position in the first place. "I'm..." There was a million things on Bruce's tongue and in his mind, and nothing at all. "Sorry." It was the only thing he could think of to say, an oldie, but a goodie. One word to describe one thousand of them, one word to put all of the thing he wanted to say in...one word. It was all he could say.

Natasha just quirked an eyebrow at that. The man came up with this entire mini speech. Practically begged her to apologize for something that happened two years ago. And that was it? Sorry? Wow...okay. It's good. Not what she expected, but okay. It works.

"Sorry," Bruce said with a hint of a smile. "It was all I could think of to say." He said truthfully. "I mean what else could I say, 'sorry my alter ego tried to kill you'?" He sarcastically asked. Natasha let the smallest, breathy chuckle at that. Which caused Bruce's smile to grow just a little bit. The atmosphere surprisingly felt calmer, and more breathable after that.

"Apology accepted." Natasha said with a little smirk. And for some reason, Bruce almost looked surprised by what she said. It was like he was surprised that someone could ever forgive him for the actions caused by the Hulk, even though he had nothing to do with it. It wasn't his burden to bare, yet he was taking all of it. Natasha nearly took on a surprised look in return but she managed to hold it back, and kept her reassuring smirk on. Why would he be shocked by this? She already accepted the first apology two years ago, but I guess that was before Natasha even realized that she was afraid of the Hulk. Still...Bruce hasn't done anything wrong, and then later that day the other guy saved New York, and caught Tony falling from the sky. "Although not necessary." She added, and Bruce's look of surprise morphed into the same look he wore when apologized the first at the Battle of New York, and she said 'we could use a little worse.'

For two years they've avoided each other, distance themselves from another, wanted nothing to do with the other one. Yet here they are, talking, and it's not uncomfortable, it's not horrifying, no one is running away, and not out of obligation, but just purely because they don't want to. It's not perfect, still needs some work, but surprisingly okay. It's a nice change from what's been happening, but it doesn't change what happened, it doesn't change the fact that Natasha was a coward, nothing changed about the fact they they've avoided each other for two years. "I wish we could just put this behind us." She broke the silence with a long, tired sigh.

Natasha looked at Bruce-and even though he didn't say anything-she knew that he was thinking the exact same thing. It was tiring this whole shtick between, and for something that happened two years, it was absolutely ridiculous. This whole thing should just go away, leave it behind in the past where it belongs. Wait a second..."Why don't we?" Natasha didn't even realize she said that out loud, she muttered under her breath but it still caught the attention of Bruce who just looked at her in confusion. But she cleared it up rather quickly. Natasha stuck her hand, like she was waiting for him to shake it. "Hi, I don't believe we've met. Natasha Romanoff." Why don't they just physically put this behind? Start fresh. There is no reason why they can't. It's just easier this way. Erase everything from the past, where no one attacked on the helicarrier, and nobody avoided another.

To say that Bruce was surprised and confused by this notion, would be an understatement. It was shock enough when Natasha actually forgave him for what the Hulk did to her. But now this? A physical representation of starting over? A clean slate? If anything, Bruce just expected a good slap in the face. It's never happened before, no one's ever had the...stupidity? To slap the man who holds the Hulk, but Natasha just push him, so who's to say she wouldn't do that. But never an outstretched hand, a second chance. Suffice to say, this is new. But is this news good, or bad? Bruce certainly doesn't deserve this second chance, and it's being handed to him on a silver platter from the last person he would ever expect to give him a second chance.

But then again...

If the one person who should've never given him a chance at a clean slate-at least of this one incident-was beyond willingly doing it without a clear doubt, then maybe...? Bruce will never, ever deserve something like this, but if one person of this two person situation was wanting to move and put it behind them, then maybe he should just let it happen.

Screw it. Bruce outstretched his hand and grabbed onto Natasha's. "Miss Romanoff." He said in greetings. "Dr. Bruce Banner." He said with the smallest of shakes, and then he let go of her hand, and brushed his against his shirt. Bruce has never really been one for any kind of physical contact.

That was that. It was behind them. A fresh start. It's kind of nice, to be honest. Natasha noticed how uncomfortable Bruce felt with shaking hands, and she had to hold back a chuckle at the sight of it, she was about to let go to relieve him of the awkwardness, but he did it before her with quite a speed and he brushed his hand against his shirt to get rid of what? Sweat? But for some reason, it wasn't uncomfortable at all. For the last couple of minutes the tension slowly began to leave the space between the two of them, but there was still something there. But now...it felt completely normal, no tension, nothing uncomfortable, no awkwardness, just...them. The hand thing could've tipped Natasha off that maybe that's not true, but Bruce does that with everyone, it's just his thing, he doesn't really like touching people, keeps himself secluded.

Natasha had only one thing left to say, "See ya around, Doc." And with the turn of her heel, she promptly left knowing she would have one less thing to worry about in her day.