Just one of those days, feeling like a freight train

[red_in_ledger]

Who: Banner and Romanov
When: Post-mission for Natasha
Where: Avengers Tower
What: Somebody actually owns up to needing a little TLC

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[bannerbanter]

The months in the tower had calmed Bruce. He looked over his shoulder less often, spent more time in the kitchen with the other Avengers, and though his Bannertech security devices were still in place, he let the automated updates do their work instead of checking them manually every five minutes or so.

Most thankfully, he was much less jumpy. Or so he thought.

The unexpected rapping on the door jolted him from his reading. His heartbeat sped up, but not alarmingly so, he was sure. The likelihood of danger was low, otherwise he would have been notified... But who was it?

Closing his magazine and tucking it under his arm, he walked towards the door, resisted the urge to check the security feed on his phone, and pulled open the door.

"Natasha?" He couldn't remember the last time she had visited. Something was different about her. She looked not quite as...together... as she usually was. "You're back? Um..." His eyes fell on the open cut.

[red_in_ledger]

Natasha arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Bruce's response. The new concealer Hill pushed through Stark R&D must be better than expected, if the bruises she knew to be coming hadn't shown through yet. Still, her left eye had already begun to swell--

She had been spending too much time around spies, too much time undercover. Not everyone assessed people as thoroughly as she needed to. Of course Bruce wouldn't have noticed. Not yet.

Her tongue darted out to catch the blood on her lip. "Indeed I am," she replied, mouth curving into a moue. "You seem less than happy about that. Did you not miss me?"

[bannerbanter]

"No, that's not it," he replied quickly. "I just... I don't usually see you here."

He tried not to look at the cut. Was that all there was? He doubted it. However much he wanted to offer her a bandage or... anything, he knew that she tended to be a bit touchy about that sort of thing. Best not to mention it.

Oh no. She was staring at him. Yes, right. He had been too lost in thought. What was he supposed to...

"Oh...yes! Tea! Um, come in?" He opened the door a little wider to let the woman in.

[red_in_ledger]

Natasha shrugged. "It's not as if I've never been here before, though." Indeed, she and Clint had spent their first few days in the tower trying their hand at Stark's security systems. They told Stark about the majority of the holes, but it was always smart to leave yourself a back door.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything, Doctor," she said as she strolled into his quarters. "No late-night experiments I should worry about in your kitchen?" Natasha smiled at him. "I'm sure you keep a cleaner house than Stark, but still, forewarned is forearmed."

A thought occurred to her--politeness, when in her own skin, was never her first instinct--and she added, "Is there anything you don't mind getting blood on? I wouldn't want to wreck your furniture when I sit."

[bannerbanter]

"Yes... But how about I invite you in this time, okay?" He tried to suppress a small smile. Did she think that Bruce had not known about that? One of the first things he had done during his more paranoid days at Stark Tower was to find his way into the encrypted security records. Those two spies had been good at their little adventure, very good, but he doubted they would have the same luck now.

He made a vague gesture around his living area. He knew that all of his furniture he had been given should be both durable and easy to clean, for reasons he had rather not think about. "Sit wherever you want." He busied himself for a silent minute at the kettle until his curiosity got the better of him. "Natasha... Um... Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?"

[red_in_ledger]

At his permission, Natasha lowered herself into a nearby chair. A quiet hiss escaped her as pain briefly cut through the endorphin block, but it settled into the same low pulse as everything else soon enough. "If you'll excuse me," she added, bending down to unlace her boots. Her ribs twinged, but this time she kept silent. "I've been on my feet too long today."

Finished, she settled back into the chair. "That depends on how you define need," Natasha replied, finally addressing Bruce's question. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes. "In the sense of do you need to fetch one, no, unless you yourself are unwilling."

[bannerbanter]

That was odd, Bruce thought to himself. Was she actually admitting to needing help? From him?

The tea finally brewed, Bruce brought two steaming mugs over. He handed one with swirling blue and white designs to her, kept one for himself, and brought himself down to half kneel in front of her, watching her intently. There was something off, something disturbing that usually flawless inscrutable face. It was hard to tell what, but something must be very wrong.

[red_in_ledger]

Natasha accepted the cup with a slight nod, the only sign of her thanks. She inhaled the steam with a pleased hum before tasting the tea, which met with similar approval. Lowering her mug, she was met by Bruce's gaze, staring up from her feet. She waited, patient, keeping eye contact, but it seemed Bruce was content to look

[bannerbanter]

Bruce... was definitely not expecting that.

He knew his face must be drastically changing color, and he glanced down at the heart rate monitor around his wrist just as it gave a single low warning beep. He cursed inwardly, hoped his guest had not noticed the sound, and took a few deep steadying breaths. She was doing this deliberately, of course. What was with the people in this tower and their apparent crazy death wishes?

Well, Bruce Banner was not going to fall for that. He was a professional. Stepping into that mindset, he took a new look at her injuries and was shocked at their sheer amount.

"Hmm," he murmured. "I... I've seen worse." That was true, certainly, but this was still nothing to ignore. A few large bruises around her abdomen in particular stood out to him, but the damage to her head could not be ignored.

"Do I dare ask who did this to you?" He arched an eyebrow in what he hoped was a harmless and friendly expression. "Or is that... classified, Agent Romanoff?"

[red_in_ledger]

"This time, I do not think we could use a little worse," Natasha said, a smirk curling about her lips. "Though if I am wrong, please, do feel free to correct me. And it is Natasha," she added, smirk growing. "Or do you call all unclothed ladies in your apartment by their title