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don’t you ever tame your demons,
but always keep ‘em on a leash
Natasha didn’t find Bruce in Fiji, though he wasn’t all that far off. She found him in Samoa, on the larger island of Savai’i. His back was to her as he stood on the beach, water splashing around his ankles, his hands in his pockets. Lost in thought, probably. Bruce was always thinking.
He looked more at ease, though, than Natasha remembered, even from the back. His posture was looser and his shoulders less hunched, so that he seemed less tense. Bruce had this way of always seeming to hide in plain sight, to make himself appear smaller, but he didn’t look like that now. Maybe the time away had helped him, at least.
“Nice ass.”
Bruce spun around, staring at her, his eyes so wide behind his glasses. He took the glasses off, then put them on again. He ruffled his hands through his hair before bringing his arms back down by his sides while he stood there awkwardly in the sand. Finally he said, “Natasha?”
“Last I checked, that was still my name.”
“How did you--”
“I might not work for S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore, but I still have my sources. You’re a hard man to find, Doctor Banner, but not impossible.”
“You shouldn’t have looked.”
“You shouldn’t have run.”
“You knew I would.”
“Then you shouldn’t have gone without me.”
“Would you have come?”
Natasha knew her answer must have been written on her face, plain to see.
“There isn’t a place for me there, Natasha. It isn’t safe. I’m not safe.”
“You still shouldn’t have run, not without talking to me first. Do you know what it was like? Seeing you shut me out, knowing what you would do, and not being able to do a damn thing about it?” The memory was still so painful that Natasha hated thinking about it. She had tried to lock that moment, the way it had made her feel, deep down inside where she wouldn’t have to dwell on it but that tactic hadn’t worked half as well as she would have liked.
Bruce looked pained but he only said, “And how would that have helped? Talk to you so you could try to convince me not to leave? It’s better this way.”
“For who? For you? Because it definitely isn’t better for me. You could make a girl think you never really liked her that much.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t a compelling enough reason to stay.”
Bruce’s hand twitched as though he were thinking about touching her but ultimately decided against it. “You were compelling, you are incredibly compelling, but this wasn’t about you.”
“You mean, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’? Yeah, I get it, I do.” It wasn’t like Natasha hadn’t considered running, so she understood, she truly did. She knew how it felt to have a monster inside of you, to carry around the guilt over what you had done. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though. She had laid herself bare to him so it was impossible not to feel the sting of rejection.
It wasn’t a nice feeling. Natasha rarely let herself care this much - she had learned the hard way how to protect herself, from every sort of pain. It had been foolish to stop, but she had wanted… Oh, she had wanted.
As if the conversation had grown too uncomfortably difficult, Bruce changed the subject. “You hungry? I can make dinner, fish caught fresh this morning. Perk of living here.”
“I wouldn’t say no.” Bruce was easily the best cook she knew, though Natasha personally felt she wasn’t half-bad.
After pausing to step back into his shoes, Bruce led Natasha down the beach and then farther into the trees. The heat and humidity was making a trickle of sweat drip down between Natasha’s shoulder blades. Tropical weather had never been her favorite; her heart still belonged to the chill of Russia.
The house was small and round, with wooden walls and a thatched roof. “It’s a newer house,” Bruce explained as they went inside. “I’m… borrowing it. Traditionally the fale don’t have walls, just blinds that can be lowered when necessary. Everything’s about community here.”
Which made it an odd place for Bruce to want to escape to, considering he was trying to avoid people, but Natasha decided against commenting. Inside the house it was really just one room, with a tiny kitchen slightly partitioned off. There was a table with two chairs placed by a large window, just a few feet from the bed.
Natasha couldn’t figure out where the bathroom was, which meant there was probably an outhouse in the back. Lovely. She could deal with an outhouse, though - Natasha had stayed in far, far worse conditions than this. All things told, the place was rather quaint.
While Bruce prepared the tuna, Natasha chopped what he asked her to and listened while he talked about Samoan food and culture. It was perhaps surprising how easily they fell into step together, maneuvering around each other in the small space and chatting like their lives were normal.
To go with the fish they had green bananas, cooked in the oven, that they dipped in coconut cream, and breadfruit, boiled then soaked with onions in a coconut milk sauce. Natasha hadn’t eaten this well in… well, a long time.
After they cleaned up they went back outside, sitting on the step beyond the door and watching the sun set through the trees. It was so beautiful here and Natasha could easily see the appeal of it, humidity aside.
“How’s… everyone?” Bruce asked. “I get the news sometimes, but that doesn’t really, well, it just tells me things are still routinely crazy and I could guess that myself.”
With a rueful chuckle, Natasha said, “Crazy is putting it lightly, but yeah, they’re good. Different main line-up but Steve and me, we’re keeping the newbies in line.”
“I’m sure.” Bruce smiled to himself. “I bet you’re a hard taskmaster.”
“Who, me? Steve’s the real hard-ass. I’m the nice one they come talk to their problems about.”
“Mama Black Widow?”
“What, don’t believe me?”
“Obviously I believe every word you say, Ms. Spymaster,” Bruce said, and Natasha shoved him. “And how’s Clint?”
“Clint? He and Laura have their new little boy traitor, total cutie, and he’s… “ Natasha closed her eyes and pictured the last time she had seen the Bartons, Laura cradling Nathaniel in her arms while Clint chased after Cooper and Lila, the kids squealing and giggling. “Clint’s happy.”
“I’m glad. Someone should be.”
“Is that what this is about? Happiness? Does this make you happy, Bruce?”
“It keeps people safe.”
“Safe from you?”
Bruce didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to.
Natasha risked a brief, gentle touch to the back of Bruce’s hand. “What happened in Johannesburg, that wasn’t your fault.”
“Whose fault was it, then? Wanda’s? For bringing out was already there? It’s always my fault, and there will always be something to coax him out.”
“That’s what you have us for. To stop him. To help you.”
“And when you can’t? When I… God, Natasha, if something happened to you, to any of you, if he… if I…”
Natasha hated the complete despair she saw in Bruce’s eyes, the fear, and she couldn’t bear it but she didn’t know what to do about it. This wasn’t something she could fix and she had never been good at comfort.
She slid in closer to Bruce, leaning against him lightly, and let her head drop onto his shoulder. Bruce sighed softly and relaxed into her.
“If I maybe seemed a little less than welcoming, earlier,” he said, “I hope you know that I really am glad to see you.”
“I know.”
“I thought… I thought if I didn’t leave like that, I never would. I thought if I saw you again, touched you again, that I wouldn’t be able to let go. And I need this. I need this for me.”
“I know,” Natasha said again, because she wasn’t certain what else she could say. Maybe it made it easier that she could understand so well. “I get it, and I want you to do what’s best for you. One thing, though? I meant what I said. I adore you, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t the dumbest brilliant man I’ve ever met.”
“Dumber than Tony?”
“Well. He’s in a category all his own.”
Bruce turned his head to press a kiss into Natasha’s hair. “I adore you, too, you know.”
“No qualifier?”
“No qualifier.”
Natasha didn’t need to be able to see his face to know that Bruce was smiling. She shifted towards him and kissed his neck, his jaw, his chin, and finally his mouth.
The first time they kissed, Bruce had seemed stunned more than anything. It had been quick and fleeting and spur of the moment, an impulse Natasha had just gone with, dragging Bruce along with her.
It was different now. Natasha could feel how much Bruce wanted this in the unhesitant way he kissed her back; she could feel how much he desired her. Natasha was used to feeling desired, but it was far less common that she returned the emotion.
Bruce had one hand on her waist, sliding up underneath her shirt to rest on her skin, and one cupping the back of her head as he kissed her. Natasha pressed herself closer to him, wanting to feel every moment of this, every shift in his body, every tremor. She wanted to relish this, to be close to someone, finally, finally.
When they paused for a second, breathing quickened, Natasha leaned her forehead against Bruce’s and murmured, “At least let me show you what you’ll be missing.”
With a shaky intake of breath, Bruce said, “I haven’t really-- Since I--” He was blushing and it was adorable.
“Is this your attempt to tell me you’re out of practice?”
Still blushing (still adorable) but so, so earnest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. He won’t either.” Natasha pressed her hand to Bruce’s chest. “He’s part of you, and he would never hurt me.”
Just a few years ago, that would have seemed impossible to say, let alone to mean. The Hulk had scared Natasha like nothing else could. A being of rage and passion that couldn’t be manipulated, that none of Natasha’s skills could work on.
She did mean it now, though. She wasn’t afraid of Bruce, and she wasn’t afraid of the Hulk.
“The Other Guy likes me,” she said, smirking.
“Let’s not talk about him,” Bruce said, raking his hand through his hair.
“Let’s not talk at all,” Natasha said, getting up to her feet and offering her hand to Bruce.
He took it.
-
When Natasha awoke, the sun was shining and the bed was empty. She stretched and turned her head, finding Bruce sitting by the open window, chin propped up on his hand. His hair was tousled and he was dressed only in a T-shirt and boxers.
Natasha felt a fierce pang of longing that she could wake up like this every day, that this could be more than just one perfect morning to keep in her memory, but optimism had never been one of her strengths.
“Morning, handsome,” she said, and watched Bruce turn to smile at her.
“Morning. I didn’t want to wake you; I’m guessing you don’t get to sleep in too often.”
“Steve is a proponent of early morning training sessions,” Natasha said, and Bruce laughed. She liked the sound of it; he laughed so rarely.
“If you want breakfast there’s fruit, coffee. Eggs.”
Natasha slipped out from beneath the covers, prompting Bruce to stare for a moment before he blushed and averted his eyes like a proper gentleman.
She had no use for a proper gentleman. “The view’s free. Besides, I’ve got nothing you didn’t see last night.” She felt his shy gaze on her as she dressed, pulling on a light summer dress that made her feel more like a tourist than the Black Widow.
That was why she liked it.
Letting her hand trail over Bruce’s upper back and shoulder as she passed, Natasha went into the tiny kitchen. In the cabinet she found ground coffee along with the herbal teas that Bruce generally favored.
“You want anything?” she called.
Bruce declined so Natasha made half a pot of coffee and chopped up some fresh papaya. She sat down with her mug and plate across from Bruce, popping a piece of papaya into her mouth.
“Here, try this,” Bruce said, darting back into the kitchen and returning with half a lime. He squeezed it over the fruit.
Natasha sighed in appreciation, enjoying the way the sweetness of the papaya contrasted with the tart, citrusy flavor of the lime. “Hey,” she said, swatting at Bruce’s hand when he tried to steal a chunk. “This is mine, you said you didn’t want anything.”
“Changed my mind,” he said, and tried for another piece. This time Natasha let him, as she was feeling generous.
Or maybe it was just because she felt happy.
Later in the morning, they went for a walk along the beach. The sun was hot against Natasha’s skin but she took off her sandals and let the sand squish between her toes. The air was filled with birdsong and every now and then she could see a seabird dive into the water, searching for fish.
“So this is what you do here?” Natasha asked. “Hide out in your little house and take long walks on the beach by yourself?”
“I visit the village sometimes, help out a little. The locals are nice. Friendly, chatty. It’s better if I stay mostly to myself, though.”
“Seems lonely.”
“I don’t mind being alone.”
Natasha doubted the truth of that statement. Bruce was good at being alone, he’d grown used to it, and she didn’t doubt that he liked the peace and quiet. But no one wanted to be alone forever, especially not when it was the forced sort of loneliness that he was imposing on himself. Bruce had always liked spending time in his lab, figuring things out away from people, surrounding himself with his work, but he had always resurfaced from time to time to be with everyone else.
That wasn’t even mentioning Tony, and all the time the two of them had spent in the labs together. Bruce was a horrible liar if he tried to deny he didn’t miss that.
In her heart Natasha worried that this self-enforced exile wouldn’t help the way that Bruce wanted, but she knew she should trust that he knew what was best for himself. He didn’t seem unhappy, at least, and that was worth something.
“Would it change anything,” Natasha said, “if I told you that the others miss you?”
Bruce was gazing down towards the ground in front of him as he walked. “No. It’s nice to hear, but no.”
“That’s what I thought.” Natasha could have told him that Pepper asked about him every time they spoke, or that all the posturing in the world couldn’t hide the fact that Tony clearly longed for Bruce’s camaraderie again. She could have told him about that awkward conversation Steve had tried to have with her, expressing his regret about the way her relationship with Bruce seemed to have been doomed before it began, or that Clint told so many stories to his kids that they sometimes drew pictures of the Hulk and Black Widow and offered them to her.
She could have told him all of those things and more, but what good would it do? Instead she only said, “I just think you should know that there are people who care about you, even if you won’t care about yourself.”
They walked on in silence, letting Natasha’s words hang there. There wasn’t anything more to be said.
Bruce would stay, and Natasha would go. They both knew it. All they were doing was putting off the inevitable, snatching a few more stolen moments in each other’s company.
This place, last night, it was like an escape, an idyll, a paradise retreat from the real world. It seemed to be what Bruce needed, or what he thought he needed, anyway, and Natasha couldn’t deny the temptation it presented. Sometimes it felt like she had been running her entire life, running from the Red Room and what it had made her, running to Clint, running to S.H.I.E.L.D., running from mission to mission, running away from Hydra and the S.H.I.E.L.D. that hadn’t been what she’d thought it was.
Maybe now it was time to stop. Time to put down roots, to allow the Avengers to be the family she had thought she could never have. She would always be Natalia Romanova, the Black Widow, graduate of the Red Room, with all that entailed. Her demons were part of her, like the Hulk was part of Bruce, and all she could do was accept that and move forward, to keep trying to be the person she wanted to be and to use those things that had made her such a prized assassin to make her a better Avenger, instead.
She might have been tempted to stay in this island paradise with Bruce but she knew she was needed elsewhere.
As if sensing the direction of Natasha’s thoughts, Bruce touched Natasha’s hand, squeezed it. “Come on, let’s head back.”
It took almost no time at all for Natasha to repack the small bag she had brought with her. Bruce only stood there in silence, this sad, resigned look in his eyes.
Natasha moved in front of him, holding his gaze. “I can’t make you come back with me, and I won’t try to. But I hope you will, when you’re ready.”
“You could stay here with me. We could have a life together, you and me, and no one would get hurt.”
Natasha felt the same pull she had when Bruce had suggested running, before Ultron. She could have something here with him, and it would be easier, and maybe she could be happy.
And just like before, Natasha let it sweep over her and then fade away. This, hiding here, pretending they could be normal, ignoring all the terrible things she might be able to do something about… This wasn’t who she was. “No, we couldn’t, and you know why.”
“Yeah, I know. Can’t blame a guy for trying, right? Go be a hero, Natasha.”
Natasha leaned up to kiss Bruce’s cheek, lingering there for a moment, trying to memorize the feel of his skin beneath her lips, the way he smelled. “No matter what you decide, you’ll always be an Avenger, Bruce.” She turned and strode away, leaving Bruce standing there behind her.
She didn’t truly think she would hear his footsteps sound in her wake, but she hoped she would. Maybe she wouldn’t hear them today, or next month, or even next year, but she could be patient.
The Avengers would always have a place for him and in the meantime...
Natasha had work to do.
End