Secret Child ~ Bruce Banner
Summary: Bruce Banner's daughter suddenly arrives at the avengers compound, leaving the other avengers with a few questions.
Warnings: Possible swearing
Bruce Banner knew the weight of secrets better than anyone. His own life was a tapestry woven with them – the gamma radiation, the transformations, the solitude he’d built around himself to protect the world, or perhaps himself, from the Hulk. But this secret, the one tucked away in a quiet corner of his heart for seventeen astonishing years, was different. This one wasn't about destruction or rage. This one was about a daughter.
He’d always wondered how the other Avengers would react if they ever found out. The world’s mightiest heroes, who trusted him with their lives, had no idea he’d spent nearly two decades juggling world-saving with clandestine fatherhood. How had he managed it? Carefully constructed alibis, a network of trusted (and very well-paid) ex-colleagues, and Y/n’s own uncanny ability to blend in… and, admittedly, her knack for not blending in, which often led to her needing a new, more remote address. She was a tornado of vibrant chaos, a stark contrast to his own carefully controlled existence, and he loved her fiercely for it. He’d hidden her for her safety, from the prying eyes of governments, from the lingering threats of his past, and yes, from the potential danger of his own volatile nature.
Today, however, his meticulously built facade was about to crumble.
The Avengers Compound hummed with its usual low-level activity. Bruce was engrossed in a new vibration-dampening alloy in his lab, a faint smell of ozone clinging to the air. Tony was probably upstairs, tinkering with some absurd new suit accessory. Natasha was likely honing her already lethal skills in the gym, the rhythmic thud of a punching bag echoing faintly. Steve was undoubtedly out on a run, Clint practising trick shots in the archery range, and Thor… well, Thor was probably eating half the compound’s food supply in the kitchen, judging by the occasional booming laugh. All was relaxed. All was normal.
Then, the alarm shrieked. A piercing, insistent wail that cut through the compound's calm, instantly transforming the atmosphere from tranquil to tense. It wasn't the "perimeter breach" alarm, nor the "major threat inbound" one. This was the "unidentified presence at the main gate" alarm. Annoying, but rarely dangerous.
Bruce scrambled out of his lab, nearly tripping over a forgotten wrench. He joined the others in the command center, their faces etched with a familiar blend of readiness and mild annoyance. Tony was already pulling up the external cameras.
"Who is at the gate?" Tony grumbled, fingers flying across the holographic interface.
The main gate feed flickered into view. And Bruce felt his heart plummet, a sickening lurch that made his stomach churn.
Standing defiantly at the imposing reinforced gate was a figure entirely too familiar. A seventeen-year-old girl, undeniably confident, even a little smug. Dark brown hair, thick and untamed, with a striking, almost defiant streak of wild purple running through the bangs. Ripped jeans, the kind that cost more ripped than whole, an old, faded band tee and a pair of scuffed black combat boots. Her hands were shoved into her pockets, her stance radiating impatience. She looked like trouble, wrapped in denim and an irreverent smirk.
"Hey! Someone gonna let me in or what?" Her voice, though tinny through the gate's comms, was unmistakably Y/n’s – a clear, slightly raspy alto that carried surprising authority.
The five other Avengers – Tony, Natasha, Thor, Steve, and Clint – all exchanged confused glances. Tony zoomed in on her face, a speculative look dawning on his features.
"Who is that?" Steve questioned, his brow furrowed. "She looks… remarkably comfortable yelling at an Avenger-grade security system."
"L-Let her in," Bruce stammered, rubbing his hands together with nervous energy, a habit he only exhibited under extreme duress. His voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the room’s tension like a knife.
Tony paused, his fingers hovering over the gate controls. Natasha, ever perceptive, turned from the screen to Bruce, her green eyes narrowing. "Bruce?" she called softly, her voice laced with an unusual caution. "Are you alright?"
"Just… just let her in. I’ll explain. I promise." He practically pleaded, his gaze flicking between the girl on screen and the wary faces of his teammates. The words felt like sandpaper in his throat. This was it. Seventeen years of careful secrecy, undone by a doorbell.
The group shared a look. Tony, always up for a good mystery (and perhaps sensing a new opportunity for blackmail), relented first. "Alright, big guy. Your funeral." He pressed a button, and the colossal gate began its slow, grinding retraction.
Within minutes, the elevator in the main lobby dinged. The doors slid open with a soft hiss, and Y/n strode in, a wild, mischievous smile splitting her face. Her eyes, startlingly green like her father’s when he was… not himself, sparkled with an almost dangerous intelligence.
"Hey, old man!" she called out, her voice echoing a little too loudly in the otherwise quiet common room. She stopped a few feet from the assembled heroes, surveying them with an unblinking intensity that bordered on impudence. "Answer your text messages in between saving the world, will ya? I was stuck in traffic for hours."
The five remaining Avengers turned as one to Bruce, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Tony’s mouth hung slightly agape, a half-formed quip dying on his tongue. Natasha’s expression was unreadable, though her eyes glinted with barely contained amusement. Steve looked genuinely bewildered, his captainly composure wavering. Clint raised an eyebrow, a flicker of a smirk playing on his lips. Thor… Thor just looked curious, a giant, golden retriever trying to figure out a new toy.
"Old man?" Tony finally managed, his voice laced with disbelief. "Bruce, what in the name of Stark Industries is going on?"
Bruce sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of resignation. He walked over to Y/n, placing a hand awkwardly on her shoulder. She shrugged it off with a grin, not unkindly. He braced himself, feeling the familiar hum of gamma energy beneath his skin, though this time, it was from sheer embarrassment, not anger.
"Guys," he began, his voice strained, "this is my… my daughter. Y/n Banner."
A beat of stunned silence.
Then, Thor roared, "CHILD OF GAMMA!" He lunged forward, a booming laugh erupting, his massive hand extending in a gesture of welcome. "So, your progeny also wields the might of the green beast? Truly, a lineage worthy of Asgard!"
Y/n blinked at Thor, her mischievous grin widening. She looked him up and down, then tilted her head. "Gamma? Nah, I’m just extremely good at breaking things. And rules."
"No!" Bruce practically shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "No, she doesn't have any superpowers! She's not a trained assassin, she's not a spy, she's just… Y/n. And she is not a child of gamma, Thor, please!" He shot a desperate look at the thunder god, who merely beamed, clearly delighted by this new development.
Tony recovered first, a slow grin spreading across his face, the humour of the situation finally hitting him. "You… you have a kid, Banner? A whole seventeen-year-old kid? And you've been hiding her? Where, in a top-secret underground bunker with her own personal vibranium crib?" His eyes widened. "Is that why you always needed those 'research trips' to obscure parts of the world?"
"I… I wanted to keep her safe," Bruce mumbled, avoiding eye contact, the explanation feeling woefully inadequate under the collective scrutiny. "Away from… from all this. From the Hulk. From everything."
Natasha finally spoke, her voice calm but penetrating. "Seventeen years is a long time to keep a secret, Bruce. Especially a living, breathing, quite loud secret." Her gaze flicked to Y/n, who was now examining Clint’s quiver with keen interest, her fingers itching to touch the fletching of an arrow. "So, Y/n. What brings you to the hallowed halls of superhero-dom, besides breaking your father's carefully constructed privacy?"
Y/n looked up, a glint in her eyes. "Well, my last home got a little… uncomfortable after I accidentally maybe-sort-of-defaced a local monument with a glitter bomb. And Dad wasn't answering his phone, so I figured I’d come find him. You know, for a place to crash. And maybe to borrow some lab equipment. For… science." She shot a sweet, innocent smile at Bruce, who groaned, running a hand over his face.
"A glitter bomb?" Steve repeated, a hint of amusement in his tone now. "On a monument?"
"It was art," Y/n insisted, pulling out a small, incredibly advanced-looking lock-picking kit from her combat boot. "And besides, this place looks way cooler than any hidden home. Plus, I bet the WiFi is better. So, who wants to show me where the good snacks are? I'm starving, and I think I just picked up a new skill." She gestured with a delicate, yet obviously practised, flick of her wrist at the lock on a nearby storage cabinet.
Bruce felt his carefully constructed world wobble on its axis. His daughter, the chaos agent he’d painstakingly kept separate from his superhero life, was now standing smack-dab in the middle of it, a glitter bomb and a lock-picking kit in her arsenal. He looked at his bewildered, amused, and slightly concerned teammates. This was going to be an interesting new chapter. And he had a feeling it involved a lot more glitter, a lot less quiet, and absolutely no more secrets.
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