Author Note – Set some time after AOU and before CA:CW.

Disclaimer – I don't own anything just borrowing.

A Place To Run To

He wakes slowly from a surprisingly deep sleep. Unlike usual, he rolls over onto his side to try to draw out the moment before starting the day. His movement unintentionally wakes the woman in his bed as she rolls over without opening her eyes, tucking herself into his body as his arm not pressed to the mattress draws her to him with practiced ease.

"Morning," Natasha says against the underside of his jaw before pressing her lips to the rough stubble there. She chuckles next as she feels his pulse quicken without permission. They rest against one another till it calms, though it never truly returns to normal when she's this close to him. Then she decides to stretch against him and it takes another couple of minutes. He bites back a comment about Stark not being the only one who makes things weird by pushing boundaries because he does it for amusement whereas she does it to prove he can handle more than he thinks he can.

"Hi," he replies a moment later, quietly so not to disturb the peaceful moment.

He cranes his head to get a good look at her face, noting proudly the content and rested look on her face; apparently, he wasn't the only one who slept well the night before. She looks almost serene with her eyes closed and his heart swells with the knowledge. It's a stark contrast to the expression she wore when she arrived nearly fifteen hours ago, tired and worn. "Cap called downtime and I ran," she explained of her unexpected visit when she arrived on his doorstep in Peru. Without dwelling on causes for her exhaustion, likely there's more than one, he enjoys the moment for what it is, simple and relaxed. He could get used to waking up to her in the morning. As earnest as her promise to run with him was, he knew she wasn't ready when she made her declarations at Barton's farm. She was still reeling and their heads weren't in the right place to make any life changing decisions. If they'd left then, she would've felt the need to return to the fight; she almost has a kill list as long as his own but they deal with it differently, he heals those who can't do it for themselves and she fights for them. He also knows she'll never truly feel like she's atoned even though he thinks she's done more than enough, redeeming himself and the Hulk in the process. Yet her visits were becoming more frequent and she seemed to relish spending time away from the fight as much as the fight itself. He isn't so self-indulgent to let himself believe he is the whole reason, but he hopes he's part of it. He's never been happier that he made that phone call days after crashing the Quinjet to explain his reasons for leaving. He was lost and instead of disappearing, he let her find him.

Bruce tucks an errant strand of red hair behind her ear before leaning down to sweep his lips across her cheek. She doesn't react verbally but she arcs her body further into his. Her eyes slide open, unguarded and greener than usual in the morning sunlight streaming through the window. He offers her a smile which she returns. "What?"

He lets the question linger for a long beat as he pulls his arm back over her waist, resting his hand on her hip. Silently relishing when she doesn't shake him off. He looks down at the blanket as it slips down their bodies, realising her choice of pyjamas for the first time. "You're wearing my shirt?"

Natasha shrugs with a sense of entitlement. "Keen observation skills there, Doc," she says, smirk playing on her lips. "Don't you like the idea of me wearing your clothes?" She teases further.

"I do," he readily admits, hoping it doesn't come across as too possessive despite knowing she's baiting him. "It's just clothes shopping is always awkward because I lose enough shirts to the Other Guy and now I'll have to buy more because they look better on you."

She rewards him with an eye roll which is belied by what he's come to recognise as her genuine smile before pecking him on the lips. "Dork," she murmurs affectionately.

"Yet you still adore me," Bruce replies with equal affection.

"Enough to keep coming for what Stark likes to call our 'international booty call'," she says with a playful lilt. Bruce groans.

"He does?" He pulls a face, screwing his eyes shut. "Don't answer that; of course he does."

"Yeah but he doesn't say it to you in front of the rest of the team," Natasha informs him with a laugh; she knew Stark well enough not to be bothered by it. They laugh together at their team mate and friend. He reopens his eyes when she stops and his gaze is caught by the blank expression on her face. They established an open and honest policy early on when developing the lullaby, out of necessity for Natasha's safety than anything because it didn't matter how skilled she was at lying or faking her emotions the Other Guy always knew she was trying to hide something from him.

Always.

Bruce can't pin it down any other way than describing it as primal and instinctual. It didn't matter that she was trying to hide her fear, instilled by their first encounter, the Other Guy didn't take kindly to being lied to and Natasha's early attempts to calm him were unsuccessful as the Hulk either ignored or raged at her. He never went for her; Bruce would have stopped it if he had. She was surprised when he called her out when she was reviewing some of the footage Stark recorded of their tries; she hadn't said but he could tell she was disheartened by the lack of success. He knew she wouldn't give up and though he doubted she would ever succeed, he hated seeing her confidence knocked. She was more surprised when Bruce suggested the Hulk would respond better if she let him see the fear, the hesitation, the honesty. He was surprised when she took his advice rather than dismiss it. The next time Natasha attempted to calm the Hulk, she dropped the mask of indifference and let him see her vulnerability, her tentativeness, her fascination; let him see her. He remembers regaining awareness and meeting her raw gaze and feeling heady from the realisation that she was affording him the same privilege once he transformed. Continually seeing each other at their most private moments strengthened their burgeoning friendship, creating a bond they were reluctant to acknowledge or explore till that fateful party before Ultron crashed it.

"What?" Bruce asks breaking out of his reverie.

He watches the indecision flitter across her features before tilting her head as she answers, "You never say it back."

"Huh?"

"Considering I'm the emotionally challenged one of us," Natasha starts and Bruce frowns at that. She isn't, she doesn't express it as freely as others. "I was wondering why when I say I adore you, you never say it back."

He hums lightly. He could reply in many ways, though there's nothing in her voice to suggest she's asking for any reason besides general curiosity; he takes solace in the fact that she's not trying to extract herself from his embrace. She doesn't put stock in voiced sentiment, she' relies on actions and her instincts much like his alter ego. It doesn't stop him from clarifying, "Do you want to hear it?"

Natasha pauses, looking uncertain, and he remembers that he forgets she lacks experience with this type of relationship. She must know how he feels, she sees it in the way he looks at her, the way he reacts when she's near. Admittedly, he is more cautious about their relationship; he doesn't want to repeat the heartbreak he experienced with Betty, more importantly he doesn't want to hurt Natasha. But he can see the doubt in her eyes and realises this is as confusing for her.

"Natasha, you are the one thing I would never change about any of this," he confesses somewhat reluctantly as he studies her face which she keeps neutral for now. He doesn't want her to think he's saying it just because she prompted him. "When you first suggested the lullaby-."

"You thought I was crazy," she says with a hint of a smile.

"I still think you're crazy, but I've had my fair share of crazy ideas," he admits with a blush. Her knee pushes between his. Heartbeat quickening, he continues regardless. "I never thought about the future before I met you." She cocks an eyebrow at him. That's not true. He obsessed over it and all the damage he could do to those around him. When his attempts to kill himself failed he struggled to accept it but helping others made it bearable. "Well, I never wanted one," Bruce confesses heavily.

Natasha accepts the answer without comment though she tilts her chin to quickly touch her lips to his jaw to encourage him.

"You make me want one," he adds. "I'm not just talking about the lullaby, you gave me and him another way to help people."

He doesn't let his thoughts dwell on how spectacularly badly it ended in Johannesburg; Wanda Maximoff had admitted her part in that disaster but people believe what they see more than what they hear. They saw the Hulk, no one else. He'd never be truly comfortable around the young woman but she had thought she was doing the right thing and she was working on her own atonement by becoming an Avenger, letting others guide her to make amends. Shaking his head, he refocuses on the woman in his arms. As if sensing his dark thoughts, she palms his cheek, caressing it softly. He shakes his head to reassure her but doesn't move from her grasp.

"I would never have gone to New York if it weren't for you."

"You do know Coulson made me get you so he wouldn't have to?" She inserts to counter the tense atmosphere.

"Still would've met you," Bruce shrugs.

"Yeah but you made quite an impression that first time and it would have been wasted on Coulson," she quips.

"Do I need to apologise again?" Natasha shakes her head. "In my defence, you had just dispelled the notion that I was good at hiding-."

"You were, I was just better at my job," she counters with a devilish smile which he returns with a blush.

"Regardless," he clears his throat, turning serious again. "You make life better, you make us better." He kisses her then. It's quick but he tries to pour as much of what he's feeling into it. She meets him with equal fervour. Pulling away he rests his forehead against hers.

"So, yeah, I adore you too," Bruce uses her own words because he's not sure she's ready to hear the other ones even though they're more accurate.

This time Natasha smiles as she kisses him, slower but the same amount of passion as her hand moves to tangle in his greying dark curls. She rolls onto her back, pulling him with her. His hand stays on her hip while the other pushes against the mattress so he doesn't crush her as they draw out the kiss languidly, her leg shifting to let him settle against her, trying to convey all they won't admit out loud. He won't admit that he loves her, he won't say she's the light in his darkness. He won't ask her to stay because she's not ready yet; she won't ask him to go back with her because he can't. She taught him to relish something while it lasts. He doesn't know how long it will last but he's learnt to accept her place in his life. She makes it better. She makes him want to live it. He'll be her place to run to when she doesn't want to live hers.