Steve comes home to find Bruce's face bruised to hell, knuckles bloodied. It's not even close to surprising, and some part of Steve, the anxious, cowardly part, is glad to have missed the rage. Bruce, for someone who is usually calm, and gentle, is incredibly terrifying in a rage. There have been times when Steve has feared for his own safety in the face of Bruce's anger. But Bruce usually manages to direct his temper at strangers, other brawler's who prefer to communicate with their fists.

It's how Bruce breaks, all violence and rage. They've all been waiting for the ones who've managed to hold it together to shatter. So coming home to find Bruce hurt isn't surprising. No, what shocks Steve to his core is Natasha. There is a vivid swollen welt on her face. On Bruce, bruises are worrying but expected. On Natasha, on Natasha they're horrifying.

It's not sexist. Natasha is the most physically capable of them all. She could kick anyone's ass, Steve is prepared to swear, hand to heart, that if he had to bet against some eastern martial arts master or Natasha, his money would be on Natasha every time. It's horrifying because someone managed to land a hit on her, and that-that doesn't compute. He's seen Natasha's scars, caught peeks of them just because they live together and she's comfortable enough with him, with them, that she doesn't try to hide them the way he knows she could. But he has never seen a fresh wound on her before.

It chills something inside of him.

"What happened?" He demands, cataloguing the way Natasha's fists are clenched and realizing that Bruce is angled away from her. From them, and it's like something clicks, he can feel the tension in the room now, wound tight between the two people it's always been relaxed before.

"Did-" Steve starts, mortified, and finds himself unable to continue. Bruce flinched like Steve clocked him good and he doesn't need any other answer. Bruce hit her, he'd hit Natasha.

"It was an accident." Natasha says, firm.

Of course it was an accident. Natasha wouldn't be helping Bruce bandage himself up the way she usually did if it hadn't been. But Steve knows Bruce, has a very good idea of the monster that clawed the gaping holes in his psyche that Bruce fills with rage. Hurting one of them, even by accident, is going to haunt him. Worse than having lived with a monster is the thought that you might become one.

Steve has never asked, but he isn't blind. Just like the others notice that he hates snow, always curls up near the heater when it's the least bit chilly, and loathes alcoholics, Steve has learned their ticks as well. Before Loki's appearance, family had been Thor's hot button, he always had more than enough to say on the subject. Natasha's need to be armed at all times spoke for itself. Clint needed open space the way everyone else needed air. Tony had been self destructing since the day they met, and while Steve had done his best to curve the behavior, sometimes it wasn't enough. And Bruce? Bruce hated abusive assholes. Except that hate wasn't strong enough a word.

Once, before they'd managed the apartment, a few weeks after Bruce had joined them they'd all gone to see the fireworks for the fourth of July. It had been fun, seeing the lights together. Being part of a crowd without having to worry about what anyone thought of them, just friends hanging out on the fourth of July. Their good mood had lasted about an hour after the fireworks when they had been ambling towards a subway station and an argument had broken out between a man and a woman a little aheads of them. Thor, Clint, and Natasha had been distracted by a hotdog stand at the time. So he didn't know until after that they'd witnessed it too. When the guy had struck what was presumably his girlfriend, open palmed in front of them, and Bruce had launched himself at the guy before Steve had even registered what had happened.

It was the first time he'd ever seen Bruce go berserk. It had been horrifying, first because the guy had been huge and the woman had launched herself at them in some desperate hope to get between them. Then, when Steve had managed to wrestle her away without hurting her, because Bruce wouldn't go down. The guy had landed hit after clear hit but Bruce barely seemed to notice, landing a few well placed hits on the guy. He'd gotten knocked down and Bruce just wailed on him until Thor had wrestled his way through the crowd and dragged Bruce of him.

They'd run, someone had called the cops at some point during the commotion, and none of them could afford to be caught by the police. Bruce had bruises blooming all over his face and Steve had panicked and tried to take him to . Bruce wouldn't hear of it, so Steve ended up spending food money on bandages and stuff with Tony at a really sketchy pharmacy when Natasha said she could take care of it if she had supplies.

Thinking back on it, he'd realized the searching look Bruce had been giving them all then was for the slightest hint of fear. He didn't find any, and dropped it soon enough when Clint began mocking him for being chivalrous. Steve is pretty sure that it was part of why Bruce stayed with them. Not just because they're willing to take care of him, but also because they don't fear him or his endless rage.

Steve walks over, plants himself, very deliberately besides Bruce on the edge of the mattress and places a firm hold on his shoulder.

"Bruce." Steve says, in a voice that demands attention. It's not one he uses often. But Steve is the responsible one, the one that calls the others to heel when they are goofing off too much and they have things that have to be done. The one who plays voice of reason when they get incredibly stupid ideas in their heads. It may be self appointed, but Steve fully believes it's his responsibility to help the others, and that means talking Bruce out of that scary dark place in his head before they lose him there permanently instead of on occasion."It's alright. It was an accident. It won't happen again."

Steve prays to a god he can't always bring himself to believe in that it won't happen again.

"I'm sorry." Bruce whispers in a broken voice that is so much worse than having him break shit. It's not like anything in the house can be considered valuable. Even the electronics are an easy fix when it comes to Tony and the magic he can work on machines."I'm so, so sorry. Natash-"

Natasha bites out something angry and savage in Russian that cuts Bruce off. She glares at him, and Steve can understand the rage, the helplessness they share that makes her so unspeakably angry. Natasha makes a sharp about face and heads towards the punching bag with a single minded intensity. Muttering in russian to accent every vicious kick and merciless punch. She is ignoring them pointedly, at least at first.

But after a few minutes they might as well cease to exist.

It's how Natasha breaks. In stark counterpoint to Bruce's volatile release of emotion Natasha shatters in precision. Machine like, all that exists is her target, and Steve might actually find it in himself to pity anyone who would might fall prey to her while she's like this.

He's not a mind reader, he can't possibly know what goes on in her mind when she's attacking the punching bag, he would never be so cruel as to ask, but the blank look on her face, despite what he has always assumed to be muttered obscenities, never fails to send a shiver down his spine.

At the end of the day the how and the why of it don't matter. He hates seeing them like this. It's a sharp ache just under his breastbone that never goes away. Sometimes, when they're together, and there's laughter some of it fades. Sometimes numbing to the point where he can't quite feel it for days. But having one of them lose it makes it feel like a fresh wound. It's awful, seeing people he loves so miserable and knowing, the knowledge bone deep, that there is nothing he can do to help.

Clint climbs in through the window and pauses, face falling at the sight of Natasha beating the punching bag. He doesn't say anything, but Steve knows the same quiet helpless misery is reflected on his face. He joins them on the mattress, spotting Bruce's bruises and throwing a companionable arm around his shoulder.

The three of them watch as Natasha seems to fade into nothing more than painfully precise violence and wish desperately that there was something they could do to help.

x

It has not been a whole other year so I am considering that progress. This story is a total anghst bomb and insanely difficult because of it. An angst writer I am not, but I remain commited to finishing this, and we are getting close to a part that suspiciously reeks of actual plot, so that should help.