Pairing: Gen (Y/N + Avengers – Found Family Chaos)
Summary:
All Y/N wanted was to get to the kitchen. Instead, they get stuck in an elevator with Clint, Sam, Bruce, Scott, and Thor. Twenty-nine minutes of chaos, war songs, ABBA, elevator time-outs, and emotional support breathing exercises later… they might just survive this—and maybe even laugh about it.
Warnings:
Claustrophobia, panic response, mild anxiety, stuck-in-an-elevator chaos, found family comfort, a LOT of unhinged Avengers energy.
The elevator jolts, lurches, and then completely stops.
The lights flicker. FRIDAY’s voice buzzes faintly, then cuts off with a spark-pop sound that makes everyone go dead silent.
“…Okay,” I say. “That’s not great.”
“Was that supposed to happen?” Scott Lang asks from somewhere behind me.
“No,” Bruce mutters. “No, it was not.”
“Great,” Clint sighs. “I told Stark we needed to upgrade the systems.”
“Clint, you tell Stark everything needs to be upgraded. You said that about the vending machine last week,” Sam says.
“It ate my quarters, Sam. That’s a crime.”
I press myself back against the metal wall, trying to breathe.
This isn’t… ideal.
Elevators already make me a little anxious. Small space. Nowhere to go. Too many people. But this? This is a lot of people.
Because, naturally, the universe decided I needed to get stuck in this elevator with Clint, Sam, Bruce, Scott, and Thor.
Yes. Thor.
All 6'6" of golden muscle, taking up half the elevator like a wall of literal sunshine and stormclouds.
“Okay,” Bruce says, calm and science-y, like he’s already calculating our doom. “We’re probably experiencing a simple power surge. Worst case, we’re here for thirty minutes while FRIDAY reboots the grid.”
“Thirty minutes?!” Scott squawks. “That’s like three eternities in elevator time!”
Clint makes a loud, suffering groan. “I knew I shouldn’t have skipped coffee for this meeting.”
Sam presses the call button again, then sighs and leans against the opposite wall, catching my eye. “You okay, kid?”
I nod too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, fine.”
“Liar,” Clint mutters.
Sam elbows him in the ribs. Clint wheezes.
“Deep breaths,” Bruce says, watching me gently. “You’re safe. We’re not falling. Everything’s locked into place.”
“Y/N,” Thor adds, booming like we’re in an auditorium instead of a 10x10 box. “If it brings you comfort, I once spent seven hours in a collapsed cavern with only a dead frost beast and half a flagon of mead.”
We all stare at him.
“I… don’t think that’s helpful,” Scott says.
Thor frowns. “You were meant to be reassured by my triumph over cramped quarters!”
I let out a slightly hysterical giggle.
I’m losing it.
Minute seven:
Clint has opened the ceiling panel and is debating “Mission: Climb to Freedom.” Bruce threatens to sedate him. Sam bets five bucks Clint’s gonna fall.
Minute eleven:
Thor has taken up humming a tune that I think is a war song but sounds suspiciously like the chorus of “Mamma Mia.” Scott joins in. It’s… shockingly catchy.
Minute fifteen:
Clint: “Okay, real talk. Which Avenger would you marry if you had to?”
Sam: “Absolutely not.”
Clint: “Bruce?”
Bruce: “I'm married to science. She’s very jealous.”
Thor: “I would marry the sun if it would have me.”
Clint: “That’s not an Avenger.”
Thor: “It should be.”
Clint: “Y/N?”
Me: chokes on air and dies
Sam: “She’s sixteen, you absolute feral forest raccoon.”
Clint: “Technically I just asked a question—”
Sam: “That’s it, next person who speaks gets put in elevator time-out.”
Thor (raising hand): “What is an elevator time-out?”
Scott: “I nominate myself.”
Minute twenty:
Sam has taken control and is now organizing us into breathing exercises like we’re all about to deliver babies. I love him. I hate him. I’m confused.
Bruce suggests we play “Two Truths and a Lie” to pass time.
Thor’s turn:
“I once arm-wrestled a Leviathan.”
“I have a tattoo of Loki’s face on my thigh.”
“I do not own a goat.”
Everyone stares.
“You absolutely own goats,” Sam says.
Thor beams. “Correct! In fact, I have two!”
Clint mutters, “Why is that the least weird part of this entire game?”
Somewhere around minute twenty-five, the elevator lurches again.
I flinch hard enough that I accidentally grab Sam’s arm. He doesn’t even blink—just immediately takes my hand in his, squeezes gently.
“I’ve got you,” he says quietly, so the others don’t hear. “It’s okay.”
I nod, my heart still hammering.
It’s not really the elevator.
It’s being stuck. Trapped. That familiar edge of panic that sneaks in when I don’t feel in control.
But Sam’s voice is steady. Warm.
I focus on that.
Minute twenty-nine:
Scott has eaten the emergency granola bar from Clint’s jacket and Clint is furious.
Bruce looks so done.
Thor has named the elevator Stormbox.
Sam is absolutely reconsidering all his life choices.
I’m… actually kind of okay.
And then the lights flicker again.
FRIDAY’s voice returns. “Power restored. Apologies for the inconvenience. Elevator service resuming now.”
We all blink as the car jerks softly and begins to move.
Clint drops to his knees. “Praise be.”
The doors slide open.
And we’re… free.
We all stumble out like survivors of some strange sitcom crossover.
Thor claps me on the back with a grin. “You were very brave, Y/N!”
I nearly collapse from the force of it, but I nod. “Thanks. You too. Big sun energy.”
He beams like I just crowned him king of Earth.
Scott says, “Hey, if you ever wanna be stuck in a hallway instead, I’m starting a petition.”
Bruce just sighs and walks away.
Sam waits until the others drift off before turning to me. “You sure you’re good?”
I nod. For real this time. “Yeah. That was… weird. But kind of fun?”
Sam raises an eyebrow. “You did just sing ABBA with a Norse god.”
I grin. “Add that to the trauma recovery checklist?”
He nudges my shoulder. “Only if we can make it a duet next time.”
Summary: Request by @morganofthecoves1
Metal manipulation is an asset on the med-bay where you work, but when the helicarrier is attacked and Bruce leaves you behind to help his team, you start to wonder if there is more you could be doing.
A/N: I am not sure that I hit everything that was requested, but I tried my best! I am happy to work on another request if there is something I missed.
“Bruce?” you called softly into his office. You always spoke softly when you were trying to get his attention. He listened well, unless he was busy. Speaking softly ensured you never distracted him but could always grab his attention.
“(Y/n)?” he answered, looking up from the papers at his desk with a smile. It was the smile that had jumbled your thoughts the first months you’d worked with him, equal parts admiration and excitement. “Do you need me?”
“Just for a moment?” He stood and followed you from his office, correctly assuming you needed his help in your med-bay. “I was looking over Captain Roger’s file when the entire network crashed. I may be good with bodies, but computers aren’t my strength.”
His warm smile only grew as he followed your into the med-bay that connected to your small office. “At your service.”
The ground shook, unbalancing the table beside you and sending your medical supplies skittering across the helicarrier floor. You grabbed hold of the patient table to steady your body, your nerves refusing to follow suit. “Bruce? Is everything okay?”
“Absolutely,” he insisted, but you knew him well enough to know he was lying. The creases around his eyes that always accompanied the smile he offered to reassure you were absent, the smile itself strained and wavering.
Your office shook again, and he reached out a hand to steady you as your rocked widely. The medical tools lying on the ground began to shake and you forced yourself to breathe deeply, forcing the metallic air in and out of your chest. “Bruce. What is wrong?”
“An attack,” he answered reluctantly, helping you to your feet before the room shook again, knocking you both down to your knees.
You took a sharp breath, eyes wide with panic, and the medical supplies jumped beside you. Their movement drew Bruce’s attention for a moment before what you assumed was an explosion sounded above your heads. His hand raised to shield you, and yours shot out beneath his arm. “(Y/n) . . .” he trained away as the sound and shaking faded and the scalpel that had jumped toward him fell to the ground. “Did you do that?”
Frantic lies careened through your thoughts, moving too quickly to grab hold of, and the truth spilled from your lips instead. “Metal manipulation can help with bullet wounds. Its why Fury lets me work as a nurse instead of forcing me onto a team. You all seem to have an unnatural propensity to get shot.” You dropped your eyes to scalpel that shook on the floor, jumping up toward you as you took shaking breaths.
His sharp laughter was last response you expected to follow your confession, and you didn’t bother to hide the confusion flooding your eyes when you looked back up at him. “We have an unnatural propensity to get shot at.” The room shook again and the metal tray that normally held your tools crumpled as fear gripped your lungs. “Can you control it?”
“When I’m not terrified,” you admitted again, surprised by the honesty such a disastrous situation pulled from you. The shaking had slowed while he spoke to you, and your breath came easier as a result. “I don’t use it enough to have a complete grasp yet.”
“Stay here, then, beneath your desk. You’ll be safe.” With that last word of reassurance, and a gentle squeeze on your hand, Bruce was gone.
He didn’t come find you again until long after the attack. A temporary medical center had been set up in one of the larger rooms on the main deck of the helicarrier. Nurses scurried between patients, trying to treat the worst of the wounds before it was too late. You worked slower than the rest, and focused on the injured with shrapnel. It was easy to sense the metal when it was too small for the others to see. Now that the fighting had ended, it was even easy for you to manipulate the small shards from their wounds, your tweezers poised close enough to keep up your charade, but not too close to get in the way.
“Hard at work, I see.” Bruce said, holding out a small dish to catch the bits of metal you had pulled from the young man on the cot in front of you. His voice was soft, and the hand he rested against your arm threatened to distract you, but there were more bits of metal – small pieces of nail you thought – in the soldier’s side that needed your attention more than Bruce did.
“It’s best not to feel useless at a time like this.” Another small piece of shrapnel dropped into the dish Bruce held, your tweezers not moving away from the wound on the man’s side. You felt no need to keep up a pretense for Bruce. “I want to help.”
“You are helping, (Y/n),” he assured you, and you knew without looking that same smile he had tried to offer before the attack was lighting his face, the creases around his eyes ensuring its effectiveness. The friendship – if it was still only a friendship – you shared with Bruce was deep enough to know that, and deep enough for him recognize your words for what they had meant and not what they had been. “And you can help in other ways if you truly want.”
The last small shard of what you were now sure was nail clattered against the edge of the dish Bruce held and you stood up, taking his hand in yours and leading him away from the large room bustling with people and out onto the deck of the helicarrier. It was in the air again, the whipping wind making it impossible for anyone to overhear what you had to say. “What other ways, Bruce? I nearly stabbed you with a scalpel in my office!”
Bruce pulled you to a stop and you belated realized you still held his hand. He pushed his fingers through yours and squeezed in the same reassuring way he had before he had left you in your office during the attack. “And I never hurt anyone before I learned how to control my anger.” It was a statement, albeit a rhetorical one, and you didn’t speak, or even look at him before he continued. “Anger and fear can be controlled.”
His hand was warm around yours and the gentle show of affection as he spoke so calmly about his past broke down the walls you had built to protect yourself from what you couldn’t control. He stepped closer to you, and his other hand wrapped around your wrist. “You already know I want to learn,” you admitted softly, “and you already know you’re the one I want to teach me.”
Before, even when Bruce was just a doctor, you’d sometimes wake up in the middle of the night because of the breeze coming through your open windows. It would waft the curtains out into your room, the slightest sound shifting you awake. You’d lie for a bit, held tight in Bruce’s arms, and then eventually, you’d crave cookies. Soft and warm chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven.
You’d never wake Bruce up, slipping from beneath his arms silently until he was curled around nothing. You’d creep across the floorboards, around the bed and through the door into the living-kitchen area. Then you’d get to work, sleepily pulling out ingredients from the cupboards to make the cookies.
Despite thinking you were quiet, you’d always make some noise that woke Bruce up. It was usually the clanging of the baking tray on the kitchen counter or the tearing of greaseproof paper. It stirred him and he’d reached to pull you closer only to find you missing from the bed. Then he’d hear the soft sounds of movement from the kitchen, the quiet music playing over the radio on the stove, and he’d smile.
He’d lay for a little while, staring at the ceiling with his eyes fixed on nothing in particular, just imagining you moving across the apartment floor, head probably nodding along to the music. Eventually, he’d clamber out of bed, pulling on a t-shirt only occasionally before joining you in the kitchen.
“Baking again, love?” You’d snap your head up at his words, freezing your movements.
“Did I wake you?” You always asked when you saw him in the doorway, a ball of cookie dough held in your flour-stained hands. Bruce would always shake his head and lie.
“No, it was the wind.”
-
Bruce had gone now. It would’ve been easier if he’d told you. If he’d said he’d had enough of your life together. That he wanted more. That he didn’t love you anymore. It would have hurt you and it would’ve been hard. But there was no doubt in your mind that it would have been easier than this at least.
It would’ve been easier than not knowing why. It would’ve been easier than not knowing where. It would’ve been easier than not knowing when he was coming back. If he was coming back.
There was no easing into it either. One night he had his arms around you as you carefully lifted cookies from the baking sheet onto the cooling rack at 3am, and then the next night you were alone, left with an apologetic message from Tony and an ache in your heart.
Now when the wind rustled your curtains and roused you from sleep, you opened your eyes and always expected to feel the familiar warmth of his body behind you. You never did, just the cold wind, and you climbed out of the bed leaving no one behind.
At first, your baking sessions stayed the same. You still tiptoed around the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake the non-existent Bruce you constanly hoped would materialise in the doorway – like he’d never gone.
But then a year passed by and you’d walk with your heels on the floor, measuring ingredients with a clatter of equipment and not caring about the loud banging of the baking tray against the counter. The soft music from the radio was replaced with loud, guitar heavy music blasted from your iPhone speakers. Instead of making coffee or tea to drink with your cookies, you poured wine into glasses, watching the cookie dough in the oven bloom into cookies.
One thing that never changed was the amount. You made the same perfectly round batch of a dozen cookies. You put them on the same cracked plate Bruce’s cousin had bought you when you first moved in together, the print on it a classical floral pattern surrounding a beautifully calligraphed “fuck my diet”. But twelve was always too many. You got through three, chewing them in between sips and then gulps of wine.
But there was always nine left over.
You’d sit there staring at the cookies, finger circling the rim of your almost empty glass of wine, before you stood, draining the glass, and making your way back to the bedroom.
In the morning before work, you washed the wine glass in the sink and you’d take the cookies into the office, transferring them from the “fuck” plate to a Tupperware box.
-
When the wind stirred you awake this morning, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying desperately to quash the need to continue this routine that only brought you pain. But your feet compelled you out of the bed towards the kitchen.
You poured the wine first, leaning against the counter as you stared at the cupboards before you.
Why not make brownies? Quiche? A fucking Crème Brulee?
You took out flour, baking soda, butter, sugar, vanilla, eggs and chocolate chips and got to work.
-
Bruce had asked about you right away. Tony had diverted from answering that question, urging him to get medical tests, demanding answers to his space-related question.
“Alright, Tony, space is a giant shit show that basically makes no sense,” Bruce snapped, head in his hands. Tony hushed, watching the eyes of his friend turn green for a second only to settle again in desperation. “Tell me. How is Y/N?”
Tony hesitated, twirling his phone between his fingers. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and running a hand across his stubble.
“She took it hard. You just disappeared with no warning,” Tony noticed Bruce take a sharp inhale of breath as he began to panic. “I tried to keep in touch. I tried to help. But… it hurt her a lot and you… I didn’t know where you were. I couldn’t give her the answers she wanted.”
The silence hung over them like a darkness, filling the room with a cold that could not be fixed with central heating. Bruce chewed his lip, feeling the guilt tear is soul apart at the thought of hurting you. The Hulk hurt too, yearning for the time when you fixed his heart rather than wounded it.
“I should go see her. Tell her I’m okay.” Bruce didn’t meet Tony’s eyes. “Did she-“
“-she never moved.” Tony answered before he could even ask and Bruce looked up at him again. “She never moved.” He repeated. But he was saying something else and Bruce knew it. You never lost hope.
-
The music was so loud that you didn’t hear the key in the lock turning. You were focused on mixing the dough into the right consistency, spoon reverberating off the glass bowl loudly now that you didn’t have to worry about waking anyone. When it was done, you let the spoon drop from your hands, reaching for the wine glass the song faded into a new one.
It was in this slip into silence that you heard the footstep on the floorboard. You whirled your head around, facing the noise. In shock, your fingers loosened from the wine glass and it fell to the floor with a smash. Bruce winced at the sound, stepping forward only for you to step back, stumbling slightly away.
“Y-you..I…” You tried but nothing worked, you shook your head, sure it was the longing. Sure it was a dream. A Hallucination. Anything but reality. But Bruce remained before you, eyebrows drawn together in a look of despair and lips parted in an attempt to find the words himself.
“I’m back.”
You froze, both staring each other down as your breathing quickened, chest rising up and down rapidly. Bruce raised his hands as if he were approaching a wild animal.
“Y/N,” he tried to sooth but you lost it, stepping forward. Bruce stepped forward too, quickly kicking the glass away from your path so you didn’t cut your bare feet.
“How dare you,” you screamed, picking up the dough from the bowl. “How fucking dare you,” you threw a piece at him, peeling off chunks of dough and throwing them at his hair. You tossed the dough aside, Bruce sighing in relief until you stepped right into his face.
“You left-“ you hit him on the chest, pushing him backwards slightly so his hands reached out to rest on your arms. “-me here alone. You-you didn’t even tell me, I waited… all this fucking time and you… you…” you let out a sob of frustration, balling your fists into his t-shirt and resting your forehead on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he soothed in your ear, hands moving up and down your arms to try and comfort you. “I got lost but I’m back now. I’m back home.”
Bruce let you cry into his shirt for a while, his own eyes welling with tears at the feeling of being with you again. Your fingers clenched and unclenched around the fabric, making sure this was tangible and real. You made sure you could smell him, the familiar smell of the Bruce that had left you. You felt his heartbeat beneath his clothes, the rhythm as recognisable to you as your own. He was home.
“Where were you?” You whispered, pulling back to look at him again. Bruce smiled sadly, raising a hand to your cheek to brush hair away from your face.
You chewed your lip, half of you wanting to make him tell you everything and the other half not wanting to do anything to push him away again. You decided to wait, letting out a jagged breath as you shook your head in disbelief. When you looked at him again, you let out a breathy giggle, fingers reaching up to his hair.
Bruce watched your face as you tugged at his hair, moving your fingers away and holding something before him. A small ball of cookie dough that had stuck. Bruce smiled, hands moving from your arms to your waist.
“Baking again, love?” His voice was smooth and warm, just the way he’d always speak to you in the morning. You sighed, eyes fluttering closed as you clung to him again.
“Cookies,” You stepped away and turned, Bruce’s hands leaving your waist for only a second before they returned to your hips, walking behind you until you reached the bowl. His arms wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder as you balled the cookie dough into cookie shapes, placing them neatly on the tray as Bruce occasionally dipped his finger in the mixture and brought it to your lips.
Once you had twelve perfectly round cookies on the tray, you pulled out of Bruce’s arm and slid them into the oven. Bruce watched, mesmerised by the way you’d slipped back into your normal routine. He ran his finger in the bowl, picking up some excess cookie dough just as you turned back to him. He raised is finger to your lips and you smiled, biting his finger playfully before you ate the cookie dough from it.
Bruce smiled, pulling you into a hug that had the two of you knocked out of breath. You tightened your arms around him, squeezing him for what felt like hours. Finally, his grip loosened and your loosened your own in response, only enough to give the two of you space to look at eachother.
“I don’t want to let you go again,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his. Bruce grinned, nudging his nose against yours as his breath fanned your face. His lips brushed against yours and you melted into him, like a warm chocolate chip cookie straight from the oven.
Note: Fluff, violence scenes, calming the hulk, one swear word, and innuendos at the end
Words: 1360
Author’s Note: This is my first Bruce Banner fanfiction! It was fun! Hope you enjoyed it :D
Bruce Banner was a man of caution. He had to be with a beast living underneath his skin that could come out at any moment and destroy more than half the City of New York. He should have known better than to get involved with a teammate, because then they would be a liability to each other. Yet, (Y/N) was different to him somehow, (Y/N) was something more for him. He knew, and the Hulk knew it. They would go on dates, chat, hold hands, normal couple things, but Bruce would never go further than that. He was terrified of what might happen if he makes one wrong move and destroy everything he’s worked so hard to accomplish with her.
Bruce was trembling as jolts of anger stabbed through him. He didn’t want her to see him this way, but the team needed the Hulk now more than ever. He hated transforming, because it actually hurt all his bones were breaking and growing and everything felt like one giant wound. His eyes flashed green before he grew to the beast’s form as he roared loudly, ready to attack anyone and everyone. He was no longer in control, he could only standing back and watch as the Hulk wreaked havoc on the enemies. He wasn’t Dr. Banner anymore he was a mindless beast inside his own body, a mindless killing machine. He knew it and the Beast knew it.
(Y/N) watched the Hulk smash bodies into each other, watched as he tore holes through cement like it was paper. She knew what she was getting into when she asked Bruce out. Yes, she did it. She knew Bruce never would. Nonetheless, she loved him, loved all of him, that included this destruction side that knew only a few simple words. “Captain, eighth floor is cleared out.” She called on the com before a loud explosion knocked her out the window as she gasped. She shot ice from her hands to grab the side of the building, but she was still falling at an alarming rate. She called out for someone when something heavy slammed into her as she grunted harshly.
Looking up, there was the Hulk cradling her in his arms as her eyes widened before she gasped feeling debri embedded into her side. She hissed as the Hulk’s eyes flashed as he landed on one of the other buildings’ rooftop. He slowly laid her down, like she was fragile, before screaming loudly. He was angry, no he was furious. She watched the veins practically bust from the as he screamed before he jumped from one roof to the next. Anyone and anything standing in his way was shattered into pieces, the beast was in full control now. “Hulk, stand down!” Steve called over the com as (Y/N) grunted sitting up. “He can’t hear you.” She panted softly.
“If he doesn’t stop now he’ll destroy the City!” Tony snapped when (Y/N) stood up, holding her side. “Tony, can you take me to him?” She asked. “What? No, you’ll be crushed.” Tony said, flying towards the Hulk. “Tony, please. I just need to talk to him.” She said when Tony sighed before making a Beeline towards her. “You better be right about this.” He said as she held up her arms when he swooped down and grabbed them. “Tony, do not take (Y/N) to the Hulk. I repeat do not.” Steve said in a stern voice. “Steve, I can do it. Just let me okay?” (Y/N) asked. “No, The Hulk is a danger and I’m not putting you at risk of getting hurt.” Steve countered.
“That’s all the more reason to let me get to him. The Hulk needs me.” (Y/N) said, pleading. “He doesn’t need you, he needs to calm down.” Steve resorted. “I think I know how to calm my boyfriend down Cap!” She spat without thinking as everyone’s eyes widened. “Whoa whoa. You and Bruce? How long??” Tony demanded. “Now is not the time Tony. Just get me to him.” She huffed when Tony nods before dropping her onto the roof where the Hulk was smashing the ground. “Bruce!” (Y/N) cried ripping out her com when the Hulk jerked his head back. He growled as he started to charge towards her when Tony was about to fire at him.
(Y/N) held up her hand and both of them stopped. “Bruce, I know you are in there.” She spoke calm, but loud due to the high winds that were blowing around them. The Hulk was breathing heavily, but he didn’t make any moves of going closer to her or moving away from her. She slowly started to step towards him as his face twisted in anger, but froze the moment he felt her hand gently graze his face. He jolted like electricity went through him, but he didn’t pull away from her, didn’t push her or anything. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay, I’m okay. We’re okay.” She whispered reaching up with her other hand and placed it onto his face slowly.
He suddenly dropped to his knees, staring her with uncertain eyes. He was scared to touch her as he reached out before laying his giant hand over her own when his eyes fluttered closed. The rest of the Avengers were standing in the back, watching as this slowly unfolded with surprise on their faces. “(Y/N).” He mumbled as she smiles before leaning forehead kissing his nose causing it to scrunched up. She laughed softly as his eyes opened, hearing that wondrous sound when he leaned into her touch. “I’m here Bruce. I’m here for you both.” She whispered. “I told you I loved you… All of you.” She whispered moving her hand to place over his heart.
“Him too?” He asked as she nods. “Him too.” She confirms before he laid his head onto her chest as she grunted softly. He was a little heavy, but that’s when suddenly he was growing smaller, growing back to Dr. Banner. (Y/N) sunk down in front of him as he turned back into the man she loved when he looked to her in shock. “(Y-Y/N)?” He asked his voice sounded a little rough around the edges. “Yeah, it’s me.” She smiles. “Did I--Did I hurt you?” He asked, looking around to all the destruction as panic swirled within his irises. “No, if anything you saved me. I was falling out of the building and you caught me.” She whispered, cupping his face to look at her.
“I did?” He asked softly as she nods. “Yes, yes you did.” She whispered when the others came over as Bruce pulled her into a tight hug. She winced softly from the sharp jab in her side, but nonetheless still hugged him back. “So how long?” Tony asked, lifting his faceplate. “About a year now.” (Y/N) answered as their eyes widened. “How the hell did we not see it?” Clint asked. “Because we don’t flirt openly at work, but off duty is another story.” She grins as Bruce clears his throat. “I’m tired, and I’d rather not be chatting about what happens after work.” He mumbles as she laughs. “Whatever you say love.” She helped him stand as he held onto his shredded pants.
“Come on everyone, we should get going back home.” Steve said as they followed him to the Quinjet. (Y/N) and Bruce were leaning against each other as she was tended by Black widow for her side. “Hm, you know I could see it. I was unsure myself, but I could always see something.” Natasha comments. “Calm and angry. Like beauty and the beast.” She grins as (Y/N) smiles to Bruce who nods. “She can be a real beast sometimes.” He murmurs as (Y/N) hits him. “Sure, and you are such a beauty.” She resorts when he winks at her causing her to smile at him. No matter what happens between them, no matter how angry the other guy gets (Y/N) will always come to save him. For the beast is only skin deep.
summary: when you’re asked to work for the avengers’ foundation, you hit it off with a certain scientist
warnings: fluff, slow. burn.
masterlist
The accords were not being followed as strictly as the United Nations would have liked. Tony Stark and his Avengers were following orders. And it wasn’t like they could touch him even if he was calling in assistance from certain ex-members of the team. As for these ex-members, they appeared and disappeared without a trace. Ghosts. Un-trackable. Even (supposedly) through Stark’s advanced technology.
But even though there was apparently nothing they could do about it, that didn’t stop the mounting tension amongst world leaders. The accords may have been signed, but clearly a signature meant nothing to Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. And with how they saw the accords, they saw the lack of commitment to them as a lack of commitment to taking responsibility for their actions.
It wasn’t the case. Tony and the others never felt good about the destruction they caused. It was part of the job they had learnt to deal with – even if every civilian casualty destroyed them a little inside.
After New York, Tony had set up an Avengers Foundation to support the victims and their families damaged by their actions. It was always anonymous. Tony didn’t want the media to think they could fix things they broke with just money. They all knew it didn’t fix things. It couldn’t bring back the dead. So, when the accords came about and the tension grew, Tony decided to make the foundation into something else.
You were in a camp just outside a war destroyed town when Tony found you. Counselling children who’d lost parents, parents who’d lost children, those who’d lost everyone. It was tough – perhaps the toughest challenge you’d faced. But you got through it. After all, these people had been through much worse. Despite that, you were going back to the states in a few months. Just for a little while. You fully planned on going back.
There was a nice girl you were training to take your place. Rachel. She sat in with your current sessions and she picked it up right away. Like you, Rachel was patient with the clients as they took their time in warming up to her. But as the day of your departure, you felt more and more comfortable leaving these people in her hands.
It was a week before you left when Tony Stark dropped by the camp. You were finishing off a session with two girls who’d lost their mother and father.
“Well done!” You sat on the floor of the tent, hair brushed back into a bun and your tank top sticking to your chest with the heat of the humid climate. Both girls were playing with an educational toy – one where you had to fit shapes into their respective holes – and they had just completed the puzzle. They laughed and cheered with you Rachel as you clapped at their achievement.
“Iron Man!” The girls cheered, standing up and running to the door of your tent. You turned and saw none other than Tony Stark lifting the door of your tent open. He wore a t-shirt and suit pants, a suit jacket hung over his arm and his eyes covered with red tinted shades. The billionaire instantly beamed as the two girls stopped in front of him, heads tilted back to look up at him in awe. He crouched down to their height and talked to them quietly as you and Rachel packed up the toys.
“What the hell is Tony Stark doing here?!” Your voice was no louder than a whisper, so as not to seem unprofessional in front of one of the richest men in the world.
“I imagine he is here to recruit you,” Rachel winked and stood, placing the toy in its storage box before moving to the door.
“Come on girls, let’s get you home.” She patted the girls on the back and smiled at Tony. The girls resisted a little but eventually let Rachel lead them away. You smiled at the scene, knowing they’d be in good hands in your absence.
Now alone with Tony Stark in your tent, you felt anxious and so did what you always did when you were anxious – you began organizing the papers on the table, writing a few little notes on today’s session. Tony approached you and sat on one of the three flimsy chairs in your tent, wincing slightly as it creaked dubiously beneath him.
“Those kids didn’t seem to want to get back to Mom and Dad any time soon.” Tony broke the silence, gesturing to the door before wiping his sweaty brow. You didn’t look up, heart cracking at the idea. You’d been here for so long that the concept of going home to Mom and Dad didn’t even seem remotely optional for most of these kids. Knowing that in his part of the world, that was still a concept reminded you of how broken these kids were.
Tony noted your silence and examined your face, instantly picking up on the sadness in your eyes.
“Oh.” He looked back at the door. “May I ask how?”
You stopped fiddling with the papers but didn’t meet his eyes.
“Chemical attack on their apartment. The girls were at school when it happened but both their parents worked in an office in the city. That office was attacked. They lost both of them in minutes.” Your voice was steady but your lack of eye contact and shaking hands betrayed you.
“It must be hard.” Tony took a glance at a shelf containing files and noted the amount. “There’s a lot of pain you have to deal with every day.”
“Occupational hazard.” You muttered, standing to put the girls file in their space, but Tony reached out and grabbed your arm. You finally looked in his eyes.
“Y/N. Please, sit.”
You followed his orders, sitting on a chair across from him, setting the file down on the table. You knew from his look that he wanted to talk about it and, although you wouldn’t normally delve too deeply into your own feelings surrounding your job, you couldn’t help it with Tony Stark in the room. He had this aura about him that made you feel comfortable. It was dangerous.
“It’s hard. There’s days when I just want to quit.”
“Why don’t you? With your qualifications and experience, you could be the highest paid therapist in New York City.” You sighed at Tony’s question.
“Because that’s not what I want to do. And it’s not what I should do.” You finished but Tony waited for you to expand. You shifted in your seat so you were leaning on the table. “Okay look at it this way. Clint Barton could use his archery talents to win gold medals in the Olympics. Captain America could just be a TV star selling the American Dream. You could just use your suit to fly around New York and avoid the crowded subway.”
“I mean I do that already –“ He started but you cut him off with a scoff.
“What I mean is. You each have things that make you more enhanced than others. Yet you don’t use them for selfish gain – you use them to save the world. It’s your responsibility. And this is my responsibility.” You gestured to the files behind you. “These people have gone through hell. A hell you can’t even imagine. And with my training and accomplishments, I have a responsibility to help them through that.”
“Even if it means you practically go through hell with them?” Tony asked and you smiled sadly.
“I let myself cry about it. I let myself feel. But as hard as it is to do, you’ve got to separate your life from theirs sometimes to survive this. It’s part of the job.”
“Is that why you’re going home?” He leant back in his chair.
“Partly.” You sighed, looking down at your hands. “I feel bad about it. It feels like I’m just upping and leaving these people here-“
“But you haven’t been home in six years.” Tony leant forward again, his interruption causing you to look back at him. “Your life matters too. You need to go home.”
“The way I see it, at least I have a home to go back to.” You said quietly, looking down at your hands again. Tony sighed and let the silence fall over you for a second.
“Well. I’ll move on to why I came here. F.R.I.D.A.Y.” He stood, placed a small box on the table and nodded to the back of the tent behind my back. Projected onto the canvas was a profile. My profile. A picture of me in a graduation gown and a list of achievements.
“Y/N Y/L/N. Your reputation is amazing. Pristine. You really are a do-gooder aren’t you.” He turned to you and you blushed a little. “And intelligent too, very intelligent.” The projection zoomed into your academic achievements and awards. A video of you making a speech at a psychiatry conference began playing.
“Mr. Stark. This is flattering but if you’re here to ask me on a date, I’m going to have to decline.” You stood too, finally placing the girls’ folder on the shelf.
“Ouch.” Tony lifted his hand to his heart but then smirked. “That’s not why I’m here. Not that you aren’t my type. Because smoking hot women with PhD’s are definitely my type. But I’m actually here to offer you a job.”
You blushed at your misinterpretation of the situation but Tony didn’t let you stay embarrassed for too long.
“I’m setting up a foundation. The Avengers Foundation. Recently, we’ve been…”
“Causing a lot of damage?” You finished for him. “I know. I was in Sokovia last year after the whole Ultron thing. A lot of broken families in there, Mr. Stark.”
“Tony, please. And we know. That’s what this foundation is for. We want to help… wherever we can. Before now it’s just been funding but I- we want it to be more. It’s not enough that we give those we’ve hurt financial compensation. They need emotional support. I would like to do that myself but I’m neither qualified nor do I have the time for it. Which is sad I know but-“
“Saving the world is a full-time job.” You smiled but then sighed. “I don’t know Mr. Sta-Tony. It feels an awful lot like I’m employed to clean up your mess.”
“What are you doing here, Y/N? Did you cause this mess? Are those that caused this mess paying you to fix it?” Tony switched the projection off, reaching into his jacket pocket and handing you a card.
“I know what it seems like. But I really want to help people. And I know you do too. So please,” He opened the door of your tent and shot you a smile. “Think it over?”
-
The idea became more appealing as you thought it over and as your last week drew to a close you were very close to calling the number on the card.
“Just do it.” Rachel told you as you packed up from another kid’s therapy session. It had been a hard one for the two of you. “You’ve spent the last six years working your ass of all over the world. It’d be good for you to actually have a job. This volunteering thing. It’s good. But you’re going to wind up hating it and that’s not good for you or the people you’re counselling.”
“Maybe… I don’t know. It’s just… Volunteering here. I’m independent from anyone. Working for them… I don’t know. They want me to tell the patients it wasn’t the Avengers fault. That they’re not to blame. I don’t think I can do that.” You sighed, conflicted again.
“Perhaps then, you need to talk to Stark.” Rachel smiled, turning to finish the paperwork. That night – your last night on camp – you and some other volunteers had dinner and drinks in the staff tent. It had been sad to say goodbye to the volunteers you had become so close to but with every hour closer to you being back on American soil, you became even more excited to be back somewhere familiar.
The flight home was long and tiring, but your weariness disappeared when you saw your family waiting for you at the airport. You began crying, along with your family, and the next few days were spent reliving old memories in your family home, meeting new members of the family and catching up on lost time. It wasn’t until a week after you’d arrived home that you pulled out the card Tony had given to you as you sat on your back porch with a bottle of beer, looking at the stars.
“That’s a fancy looking business card you’ve got there, Y/N/N.” Your dad sat beside you and leaned in to get a better look at it. “Tony Stark, The Avengers. Wow.”
You didn’t respond, just flipped it over and stared at the number. Your father sensed a conflict and let you figure things out by yourself for a while before finally having his say.
“I hear The Avengers have a pretty good health package. Besides, it’d be nice for you to actually have a stable job. This volunteering, honey, it’s great. Me and your Mom are so proud of you but… we’re worried that… you’re focusing so much on others that you’re forgetting to take care of yourself.”
You looked up at him and smiled. As you pulled out your phone, your father stood and patted your shoulder. Your hands shook as you dialed the number and you tried to steady your breathing as the dial tones began. It took only three rings before someone picked up.
“This is Tony Stark, speaking?”
“Tony… it’s Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” You picked at the label of your beer.
“Y/N! You’re back home?”
“Yeah. It’s nice.” You admitted.
“You thought about that job offer?”
“Yes, actually. I have a few questions that I feel would be better answered face to face,” You silently congratulated yourself for how professional you sounded. “Is that okay?”
“Of course! Would you like me to come to you or…”
“No, it’s fine. I’m in New York next week actually. I can meet you then?”
“Sounds good.” He paused and I heard faint footsteps and a door close. “Thank you for this. It means a lot to me.”
“Thank you, Tony. I’ll see you soon.”
Naturally, your family were a little upset that you had to leave again so early. But after some convincing, they were eventually happy for you. Besides. At least you’d be in the same country for a while.
You stayed with a friend from college in New York and booked a few viewings for apartments in the city. They were stingy and most out of your price range, but you hoped to get a job soon.
Tony arranged to meet you at the New Avengers Facility. You wore a white blouse and a black skirt with black heels borrowed from your friend – you didn’t have many clothes due to living out of a backpack for six years. A car picked you up from the city and drove you to the facility. It was hard to get to and you lost track of your location many times, but eventually you ended up at an impressively large modern complex. The driver helped you out of the car and into the reception, where you were checked for weapons and saliva swabs were taken. Eventually, they led you into an office room where Tony Stark was waiting.
He wasn’t alone, however. Occupying the seats around the table were Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, James Rhodes, Natasha Romanoff, Vision, Helen Cho and a few others in business suits. As you walked in, Tony stood immediately, crossing the room to pull you into a hug.
“It’s good to see you again, Dr. Y/L/N.” He held you at arm’s length, a smile on his face. He gestured to the free seat at the end of the table. “Please sit.”
“Thank you for making the time to see me, everyone.” You nodded at the others around the table.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Dr. Y/L/N. Tony has talked a lot of you. You sound like a very charitable person.” Vision commented. And with that, the interview commenced. Although it wasn’t like any other interview you’d ever had. It was very casual and it was almost like you’d been hired already.
Tony informed you on how he’d like the foundation to be run. It would cover all bases – The fund would remain of course but with help from Helen and newly recruited medical staff, there would be a department for rehabilitation of injured victims. There was a volunteering department that organized events and furthermore, he wanted you to head a department for the counselling and therapy for emotionally traumatized victims. You agreed that you would be up for this but had a few questions. Although heading the department, could you still be there to offer help to those in need? The answer to that was yes of course, but it wouldn’t be to the extent you had been doing previously.
The next question was your most important. You expressed your concern over it being connected to the Avengers and/or Stark Industries.
“My issue is, Mr. Stark, that in therapy, I cannot tell a patient that it isn’t your fault. Because quite often it is. I understand that this is ‘The Avengers Foundation’ but if you want me to convince these people to push the blame elsewhere, I’m not sure I can do that.” You admitted, looking down at the files that had slowly built up in front of you.
“We understand that, Dr. Y/L/N. And that is why we want you to head the department.” Pepper answered, causing you to look up. “The way you would approach this… it would mean that we are certain these people are getting the best, least biased care possible. Yes, we are funding it. But we don’t want that to influence anything. If, at the end of it all, people still hate the Avengers, that is a valid opinion that we will not contest.”
“We cannot control their fear, only our own.” Vision added. You nodded along and bit your lip as you thought.
“Okay. Yes. I’ll do it.” You let out a sigh of relief and let a smile creep onto your face. The group cheered and Tony stood, clicking a button so a bucket appeared from the middle of the table, a champagne bottle inside.
“Great. Let’s celebrate.”
-
Your first few months were jam-packed with meetings and paperwork. Before you could get down to it, you had to establish the foundation first. Legal work had to be conducted and you found yourself thrust into a world of negotiating and decision making. It was different to what you were used to and challenging, but you enjoyed the responsibility. And slowly, you felt as though the department you were building was like your child.
Tony helped you through it all. Along with Pepper and Helen and all the other board members. The Avengers even helped and, one day, even Steve and the other ‘vigilante’ heroes attended a meeting to input their ideas into the foundation.
After meeting these heroes, you were glad to know that they did feel responsible for their actions. It made you more comfortable working under the name ‘Avengers’. They were just like you in a way. Fighting their damn hardest to fix the world any way they could.
With your job came an apartment in New York City where the foundation was based. You were grateful you didn’t need to find somewhere as you hadn’t exactly made much money with your volunteer work. It was also nice to be settled with a few more comforts than you were used to.
Occasionally you’d feel guilty that you were enjoying all of this when the people you had been working with before were living in poverty. But when you got to work and planned how you could help them, you knew eventually you’d be doing your bit once again. Plus, it was nice that, whenever you wanted to, you could hop on a jet and visit your family – a luxury you couldn’t turn your nose up at.
The launch of the foundation was a beautiful day. There was backlash, as expected. But you had gotten to know the ins and outs of this foundation so well through building it that you learned to ignore most of it, knowing that what you were doing was going to be ultimately impartial and beneficial to those in need.
Your first assignment was helping families in Lagos, Nigeria after the incident that caused the Sokovia Accords to be signed. The plan was for you to go out and establish a team of therapists out there whilst counselling families and victims yourself. It was tough getting back into things again and it took an emotional toll on you for a while, but eventually you got back into the swing of things. You didn’t work as much as you used to and had fewer clients. But you didn’t complain. You were in Nigeria for around a year before you came back.
“The Nigerian government have been very complimentary towards you, Dr. Y/L/N.” Pepper complimented as you ate lunch with them in Stark Tower the day you landed. “I’m very glad you agreed to work with us. This foundation wouldn’t be what it is without you.”
“It’s all of you that came up with the idea. I’m just the one carrying it out.” You smiled, excusing yourself after lunch to rest.
In the elevator on the way down to the first floor, you called your parents and told them you would visit them tomorrow evening. They were eager to hear all about your time there but you told them you’d tell them all about it tomorrow and they let you go before the elevator even reached its destination. The elevator slowed and stopped on the tenth floor – a research floor and a man looking down at some papers entered. You instantly recognized him as Dr. Banner and felt a swell of confidence.
“Dr. Banner.” Your voice made the scientist look up from his paper. The doors closed and he smiled at you, closing the booklet he was reading and tucking it under his arm.
“Dr. Y/L/N.” He held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Stark.” You took his hand and politely shook it.
“Likewise. How long have you been back in New York?”
“Just under a year. Took me a while to figure out how to get back.” He joked, his lips turning up into a slight smirk. “You’ve been in Lagos, no? I heard about what happened there. What’s it like now?”
“It’s getting better. Slowly. Unfortunately, the human brain doesn’t have super healing powers.” You smiled sadly and Bruce nodded, glancing at the numbers above the elevator door.
“Ah man.” He frowned and scratched the back of his head. “I was meant to be going up to the lab.”
You chuckled as the doors opened to the reception, stepping out.
“I hope we get to meet properly, Dr. Y/L/N.” Bruce smiled, pressing the button for the floor the lab was on.
“Likewise, Dr. Banner.” You nodded, letting your eyes linger on his as the elevator door closed. When the metal of the doors clinked shut you mentally cursed yourself for the gaze, blaming it on tiredness before heading out of the tower, hailing a taxi to get back to your apartment.
You decided to stay in New York for a while after your trip to Nigeria. No major events had happened since Lagos and so with the Avengers becoming increasingly more vigilant and aware of civilians during their missions, you were more comfortable sending smaller teams to the areas that had been effected recently. Whilst in New York, you picked up some clients effected by the events of 2012 and those effected by events caused by city focused vigilantes. You also helped with the community department of the foundation, volunteering in community building events.
During this time, you spent an increasing amount of time with the Avengers and, more specifically, Bruce Banner. At first, it had been an occasional conversation as you headed to meetings or whenever you ran into each other at the Avengers Facility or Stark Tower. But with your growing closeness to the Avengers came invites to their parties which meant more and more time with Banner.
Your friend, Helen Cho, teased you about it no end. Accusing you of having a crush on the doctor whenever you were caught gazing at him from across the room. You did of course, but you denied it profusely, not wanting to mix business with pleasure.
Tony teased Bruce about it too whenever they were in the lab. During experiments and tests, he’d bring you up and watch as Bruce blushed and focused even harder on the experiment he was conducting.
To everyone around you, you seemed perfect for each other. You could challenge each other intellectually and have spirited debates. You were both kind and charitable, eager to fix your own mistakes as well as the mistakes of others. And you were able to accept and attempt to mend each other’s weaknesses. Bruce knew exactly what to say to stop the guilt you felt about living in New York rather than out in the countries that needed you most.
“In one country, you’re helping a few people effected by one event.” He’d tell you. “Here, you have the power to send help to every person in need. Just because you aren’t across the room from them, doesn’t mean you aren’t changing their lives for the better.”
And you knew exactly what to tell him to ease his conscience from the Hulk’s actions. Too often Bruce had been told it wasn’t his fault. That the Hulk wasn’t him. But you knew he didn’t need that. What he needed to be told that it may have been his fault. That he caused a lot of damage. But it was nothing he couldn’t redeem himself from and he was getting better. He was learning to control the Hulk. He was learning to accept responsibility and learn from his actions.
Eventually, it became a bet between members of the team. Would either of you do anything? And if so who would act first and when? But they all grew tired of waiting for something to happen as, not matter how hard they pushed the two of you to make your moves, neither of you did anything. Whether it was because you were both afraid that the other didn’t reciprocate the feeling or because neither of you wanted to affect each other’s work, your relationship remained that of friends.
It all changed eight months after you met, however. The Avengers had conducted a risky mission that had wiped out a major Hydra facility with zero causalities on either side. All the enemies had been captured unharmed and no civilians nor heroes had been hurt. With that result, Tony threw a party in Stark Tower.
You’d had a rough week that week and you were actually looking forward to the party. Usually you’d show your face for an hour or so, sticking to friendly conversations with Tony, Pepper or Bruce, or those you knew from the foundation. But after this week, you felt it was necessary to let loose a little. The therapy sessions you had given had taken their toll on you and there had been a small blip in your father’s health. Although he was okay now, the stress of the situation on top of your normal work stress had exhausted you this week.
You went to dinner with Helen and a few others from the foundation beforehand. You talked work stress for most of dinner, getting that out of your systems before the party so as not to kill the mood. After dinner, you all piled onto the subway to Stark Tower, slightly tipsy on the wine you’d shared over dinner. You were about half an hour late to the party which was surprisingly small compared to Tony’s usual events. It consisted pretty much of the Avengers, ex-Avengers, a few members of Stark Industries, a few S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and a few members of the foundation that hadn’t joined you for dinner.
The size of the group instantly relaxed you, knowing you were in safe and familiar company, and so after greeting Tony with a hug, you head straight to the bar for another drink. Helen joined you and after ordering your drinks, Natasha Romanoff appeared to say hello.
“You look gorgeous tonight, Y/N.” She commented, pulling you into a hug. You too complimented her figure hugging dress and invited to sit with you for a drink.
Although the others had given up on you and Bruce, Nat hadn’t. You understood that they had once had a thing but with his recent absence and other complicating factors, what was once there was there no longer. But Nat knew him well and she knew he liked you. She couldn’t be certain that you felt the same way, but she was pretty sure you did. And she was pretty sure that if Bruce Banner asked you on a date, you would say yes.
Because of this, Nat was eager to get more information out of you on Banner.
“So, Y/N. Any men in your life lately?”
You choked on your drink at her words and blushed.
“What?” Nat turned to Helen who shrugged with a smile. “It’s a perfectly okay question to ask a woman in her twenties.”
“Thirty.” You corrected. “I’m thirty.”
“Twenties, thirties, Kak pozhelayete.” Nat waved it off, clicking her fingers at the bartender to get her another drink. “You haven’t answered my question.”
You sighed, twirling your straw around your drink. There hadn’t been many. And those that had come into your life had rarely stayed for very long. Your lifestyle was that of one always on the move and, although they would never admit and neither would you, your intellect was often times dizzying and intimidating.
“I’m too busy to be focusing on that right now.” You smiled and Nat cocked her head, taking her new drink from the bartender.
“You’ve settled in New York for now, though, no?” She asked. “I mean, if you find the right guy…” She trailed off, glancing at Bruce who was stood the other end of the bar. You blushed when you saw the direction of her gaze but you too looked over to Dr. Banner. He looked good. His dark red shirt fit his shoulders perfectly and his hair looked beautifully coiffed. He glanced over at you and you blushed when he shot you a smile, giving him a small wave back.
“He lives in New York.” Nat whispered, standing up to leave you at the bar. She took Helen’s arm in hers and you frowned, moving to stand too but Nat pushed your shoulder down, sending you a wink. As you watched them leave, you were unaware of Bruce approaching.
“Dr. Y/L/N.” He smiled, leaning on the counter. “How have you been?” You turned to smile at him, setting your now empty glass back onto the counter. Bruce gestured to the bartender who refilled your drink and handed Bruce another bottle of beer with a smile.
“Good. A little under pressure but nothing I can’t handle.”
“I’m sure you can handle anything.” Bruce shot you a small smile and your breath caught in your throat. Was he… flirting?
“Anyway…” He scratched the back of his head.
“How’s the tests on Vision going?” You asked, referring to his research on the gem in Vision’s skull.
“Good, good. Still no closer to figuring out what kind of energy is powering it… but if people are flocking to Earth from all over the galaxy for it, it can’t be the good kind.” Bruce sighed, looking down at his bottle. You instinctively reached out and squeezed his arm, leaning slightly closer. Bruce’s eyes immediately flitted back to yours and you tried to fight the blush at the change in mood.
“You’ll figure it out.” The room disappeared as you looked into his eyes. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.” Bruce shuffled closer so there was no more than a foot between you. His hand reached out and brushed a piece of hair out of your face and you bit your lip.
“So, did you ask her?”
You immediately leaned away and Bruce stepped back when you heard Tony’s voice. Turning to face him, you didn’t miss Bruce’s glare at the billionaire.
“Ask me what?” You looked between Bruce and Tony with a frown. Realizing he hadn’t asked you out, Tony diverted to the other reason he’d ask you.
“The Vision thing. We need some help.”
“From me? Why me? I’m a doctor of psychology.”
“Well,” Bruce sighed. “It’s got some… unusual powers that we would like to understand a bit more.”
Standing with a sigh, you couldn’t help but feel a little upset that this was what he was going to ask you. With all that build up from Nat beforehand, you were hoping that he felt the same way you did. But alas not. Again, it was all work, no play.
“Okay. I can pop by your lab tomorrow morning.” You picked your bag up from the stool, leant over the counter of the bar and grabbed a bottle of vodka. “Now if you’ll excuse me boys, I came here to destress. Enough with the work talk.” You waved them out of your way, not hearing the quiet protests from Bruce as you made your way over to Nat, dangling the bottle of vodka with a smile on your face.
“What happened?” She frowned as Tony hit Bruce on the back of the head behind you.
“Bruce just asked me something.”
“Oh my god, really?” Helen squealed, shaking you by the arms. You shrugged yourself out of her grasp, picking up three shot glasses from the table beside you.
“Yeah.” You poured the clear liquid into the three shots, Nat narrowing her eyes at your heavy-handed measurements. You handed them each a shot and downed yours immediately, enjoying the burn of alcohol down your throat. “He just wanted some help with the whole Vision experiment.” You shrugged it off as though it were no big deal, like you were expecting it. And some part of you had decided it wasn’t a big deal. It was your fault for getting your hopes up, listening to Nat and Helen’s fairytale ideas of you and Banner together. You’d come here to let loose and destress – getting emotional over Bruce Banner was not part of the plan.
“Come on girls!” You cheered, pouring yourself another shot as Nat and Helen still held their first ones in their hands. “Let’s have some fun.”
And with that, you all downed your shots and the night began.
It wasn’t long before you got hammered, and what Tony had expected to be a relatively quiet celebration of a successful mission turned into a very good night, with you in the center of it.
The crowd had thinned out considerably. After all, it was a Thursday night and most lived upstate or had work in the morning. You and Helen were the only members of the Foundation left. All of the Stark employees had gone due to a meeting tomorrow and only Maria Hill from S.H.I.E.L.D. stayed. That left all the Avengers and their guests, who were rather enjoying the nights antics.
You stood in the middle of the room, microphone in one hand, heels in the other. Natasha was by your side, only a little less drunk and also holding a mic. At first it was card games, which although fun, playing with a load of competitive superheroes was leading to a window being broken or a hammer being thrown into someone’s chest. And so, Pepper, being the soberest, broke it up as soon as she saw Tony itching towards his suit bracelet.
That’s how you’d ended up on karaoke. Not competitive and fun for both those singing and those watching. You and Nat had decided to do a duet to Nuthin but a G thang by Dr. Dre, you tackling the Snoop Dogg parts and Nat the Dr. Dre parts. It was weirdly successful and the entirety of the party were cheering you two on as you strut your stuff around the stage.
With the cheering and wolf whistles, you gained confidence, dropping your heels and running your hands over your body as you swayed to Nat’s rapping. The cheers got louder and you giggled, dancing seductively. Nat took over your part, letting you dance your way around the floor and sing the backing part, which consisted of breathy moans.
You glanced at Bruce who was watching the show from the bar and smirked. He looked uncomfortable at the display, sipping his drink with his eyes hooded. You let your eyes linger on his for a second, biting your lip. He definitely noticed because you saw him shift slightly, setting his drink down. But before he could be sure if it had meant anything, you’d turned away and danced across the room, jumping up on a table. You got so lost in your dancing that you forgot to watch your footing and suddenly you fell.
Unbeknownst to you, Bruce had moved from his spot at the bar to stand beside Tony around the table and, when you fell, he rushed to catch you.
When you felt strong arms around you instead of the cold impact of the floor, you sighed with relief, opening your eyes and smiling at your hero. When your eyes met familiarly warm brown ones you giggled, throwing an arm around his shoulder as he set your feet on the ground.
“Alright, Doctor. I think it’s time you went home.” Bruce smiled down at you and you pouted as he led you to the door,
“Boo hoo. You’re no fun, Mr Sexy Pants.” You squeezed his cheeks, giggling at how his mouth puckered. Bruce tried not to smile at your actions and what you had just called him, instead tightening his grip around your waist.
“I’ll go get her a cab.” He told Tony, who was watching your exchange with a mischievous smirk. Bruce ignored it, however, and said goodbye to the group with you in tow. You didn’t protest much physically, but you complained the entire time he led you out of the room.
“I can walk from here.” You sighed, unwrapping your arm from around his shoulders. Bruce’s grip on your waist loosened but as soon as he did so, you stumbled and he pulled you to his side once again, helping you into the elevator.
Bruce tried not to let his heart race as you snuggled into his side, sighing at his closeness. Now being out of the party and in the quietly moving elevator, you felt yourself sobering up instantly. The alcohol was still rushing through your system, but the buzz of the surrounding people had gone and you just felt content.
With this, you stood upright and stepped away from Bruce, who warily held onto your waist to ensure you didn’t fall. Seeing that you were somewhat more stable, he reluctantly dropped his hand from your waist and let you lean against the cool glass of the elevator.
You tried to think of something to say to him to break the silence but you kept drawing blanks. All that crossed your mind was telling him how great he was and how annoyed you were that he hadn’t asked you out. But even as drunk as you were, you knew uttering those thoughts would be a bad idea.
Bruce too struggled to find a conversation starter. He was only tipsy from the alcohol, but still drunk on the show you had put on for him in the party. It was driving him crazy that a feeling he’d considered one sided was now questionably mutual. But some part of him told him that you only did that because you were drunk and hyped up and so, no matter how part of him told him to be brave and ask you out, the other part won and he stayed silent.
When the elevator reached the ground floor, Bruce warily held his arms out as you stood and stumbled out of the elevator. But he let you stumble, figuring it was best for the both of you to let you steady yourself. As you made your way through the dimly lit reception and out into the cold streets, you tried not trip over flat surface. Thankfully you didn’t and silently congratulated yourself once you made it outside. Bruce hailed for a cab and then, when you didn’t answer to the calling of your name, laced his fingers through yours and gently pulled you to the door of the cab. You slowly followed his lead, frowning at the warmth of his hand in yours, and climbed into the cab, scooting across to the far side of the taxi.
“You know your address?” Bruce asked, hand lifting your downturned chin up to look in your eyes. Mesmerized by his eyes staring into yours, you could only mumble your address at him. Thankfully he picked it up and repeated it to the driver, who sped off in the direction of your apartment.
The car ride was a silent as the elevator and you sighed at the awkwardness, cursing your drunk self for ruining a good relationship. When the cab pulled up to your apartment building, Bruce asked the driver to wait and then helped you out of the car, arm wrapped around your shoulders to guide you to your door.
“You need help up the stairs?” He asked as you punched in the code for the door to your apartment building. You only shook your head in response, pushing the now unlocked door open. Bruce sighed, brushing the hair out of his face and unwrapping his arm from your shoulder. As he did, you quickly grabbed his hand, making him turn to face you.
“Thank you for helping me home, Bruce.” Your voice was soft and the small, thankful smile that spread across your face made Bruce’s heart skip a little. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You dropped his hand and before he could tell you that you didn’t need to come in tomorrow if you didn’t feel like it, you disappeared into your building.
-
The next day’s hangover wasn’t nearly as bad as you’d been expecting. You woke up with a slight headache, but nothing a bit of aspirin and some toast couldn’t fix. Despite last night being mostly a blur, you remember Bruce asking you at the start of the night if you could drop by the lab today and help with some of the tests he was conducting on Vision. So, after eating breakfast and downing a cup of coffee, you caught the subway to Stark Tower.
Tony was the first to spot you as you made your way to the lab, waving at you through the glass doors. Bruce looked up from his work to see you and blushed, allowing himself to remember last night’s antics properly for the first time this morning. Tony nudged him and smiled suggestively at him but he just shrugged it off, going back to his work.
“You’re alive!” Tony laughed as you walked through the doors, pulling you into a hug.
“Thanks for last night Tony, I had a good time.” You squeezed him back.
“I knew you needed a night out. I told Bruce that day that I was glad you were coming. You’re never out of that damn office of yours. Didn’t I Bruce?” Tony turned to Bruce who looked up immediately at the mention of his name, eyes meeting yours.
“You do- I mean. He did… tell me you worked too hard. You do… work very hard.” He stumbled on his response and you smiled.
“Well, it’s back to work today. What do you need me to look at?” You stepped closer to Bruce’s work bench and listened as he went over the papers before him. Now that he was talking about science and work, his speech was more confident, slipping back into the intelligent and polished Bruce you usually talked to. He did stumble however, whenever he looked up to meet your eyes. Once when you reached over to take a closer look at some numbers on the sheet in front of him, your hand brushed against his and he completely lost his train of thought.
“So, it sounds like this… energy is probably infecting the parietal lobe and the frontal cortex of the victim’s brains.” You mused as you discussed the power the mind stone had when used by Loki’s scepter. Vision had joined you now and you looked at the stone intently with a frown on your face. Hearing no response, you turned to Bruce.
“We had thought that it was affecting the basal ganglia.” Bruce countered and you pondered it.
“Perhaps. But didn’t Clint say that he knew what he was doing? That would imply choice. If it was affecting the basal ganglia, he’d just be doing things with no decision-making process. Whereas if it were effecting the parietal lobe and the frontal cortex, it would be influencing his reasoning. That way he would be choosing to do those actions, rather than just enforcing them with no thought process.” Bruce was silent as you explained, thinking it over as you looked closer at the gem imbedded in Vision’s skull.
“Well would you look at this, Snoop Dogg and Mr. Sexy Pants are working together.” Tony’s voice interrupted your debate, all three of you turning to face him as he stood, cross armed the other side of the lab. You frowned at the nicknames, looking to Bruce for an explanation but finding him blushing with his head down. With that, you turned to Vision.
“I believe Mr. Stark is referring to last night when you performed Nuthin but a G thang with Agent Romanoff and then called Bruce Mr. Sexy Pants.” Vision cleared up and you instantly blushed crimson.
“Oh my god.” You muttered, letting your face fall into your hands.
“Vis, let’s go… laser some stuff outside, yeah?” Tony gestured to the door and Vision followed, leaving you and Bruce alone.
“Bruce, I’m sorry if I was imposing last night.” You immediately sought to apologize for your actions but Bruce interrupted by shaking his head and looking at you with a smile.
“It’s fine. It was rather entertaining actually.” He bit his lip, looking into your eyes for a second before turning away and organizing some papers.
“Did I… do anything else last night?” You pressed, struggling to remember your performance of Dr. Dre’s hit.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, don’t worry.” Bruce turned to face you again and smiled and you let out a sigh of relief. Feeling a swell of confidence, Bruce stepped a little closer to you, a smile on his face.
“I was wondering if I could ask you something though.” He raised an eyebrow at you and you struggled to respond with the sudden proximity between the two of you. “Do you really think I’m sexy?”
You didn’t have to speak for Bruce to know the answer. The way you blushed and drew your bottom lip between your teeth to hide a smile was answer enough. And that was enough for him to close the space between you, lift your chin with his hand and plant a soft kiss on your shocked lips.
“Can I ask you something else?” His lips were still against yours and his eyes shut, your own fluttering closed to enjoy his touch. This time you responded with a low hum, your hands working their way over Bruce’s shirt to rest on his chest.
“Would you care to go for dinner with me tonight?” Bruce pulled away to look you in the eyes and you didn’t hide the overjoyed smile at his question. This time, you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his, causing him to smile at your answer, lips moving softly against yours and hands gripping your waist lightly.
“As great as it is that Bruce finally asked you out, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop making out in my lab.” Tony again interrupted your moment and you turned to face the smirking billionaire and Vision. He held his hands up as Bruce glared at him and then gestured to Vision. “Hey, Vision is only like four. He doesn’t need to be seeing this at such a young age.”
Hey everyone! I am of the opinion that there is not enough Bruce fluff out there, so I present this story!
One of my magnificent friends, @sinnamonrollscully recently suggested that I give ASMR a try when my anxiety was in overdrive and my insomnia was really bad, and I found it surprisingly relaxing. Have you ever tried it? In ASMR, the person creating it uses visual and audio cues to produce a relaxed euphoria and tingles in the viewer.
If you have any feedback, please let me know! And don’t forget, a special event will be launching very soon!
TIMELINE- 2012
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“Bruce, what’re you doing up?” you asked, rubbing your eyes as you entered the communal kitchen. Bruce was sitting at the island, tea in one hand, and a book in the other.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d read for a bit. You?” he replied.
“I… uh, I had a nightmare, and then I couldn’t get back to sleep.”
Bruce nodded, though he couldn’t help but wonder why you had never made your way down to the kitchen after a nightmare in the past.
You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t have a nightmare. You couldn’t sleep through the sadness that he was feeling. It was so strong that, even from the room that Tony was letting you stay in, you could feel it. It drew you into a sleepless melancholy.
You sat next to him with a glass of milk, and focused all of your energy onto trying to calm him. You wondered if he could tell what you were doing, but if he could, he didn’t say anything.
“You know,” Bruce said after a while, “I may know something that will help us sleep.”
“Oh?”
“Have you ever heard of ASMR?”
You shook your head, then followed him to his room. He wordlessly set his laptop up on the coffee table, and searched around for two sets of headphones and a splitter.
He indicated for you to sit down on the couch, and after you had, he handed you a set of headphones, and sat down himself.
He began tapping away at his laptop, searching something on YouTube (you were quite proud that you knew what YouTube was- you and Steve used it frequently to catch up on music, television and world events).
Soon enough, a blonde woman was on the screen, in front of a strange looking microphone. You were surprised to discover that the audio was binaural.
The woman spoke directly into the camera, as if she were speaking to no one but you. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, and as she spoke to you, you felt a strange sensation that started at the crown of your head, and ran down your neck, into your shoulders.
That tingle was accompanied by a peaceful sense of euphoria. The last time you felt anything like it, Bucky was still alive, whispering comforting things into your ear when you couldn’t sleep.
You found your eyes getting heavy as you sunk further and further into the peace that this video was providing you.
After half an hour, you looked over to Bruce, and saw his glasses dangling loosely from his hand, head back, and mouth open slightly. He was fast asleep.
You smiled, and carefully took his glasses, placing them on the coffee table. You then returned your attention to the video.
You woke up the next day with your head on Bruce’s shoulder. You looked at him and saw that he was awake, smiling at you.
“How long have you been awake?” you asked, removing your headphones, and looking around the room.
“About half an hour,” he replied quietly.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked like you needed the sleep.”
“But, that must have been an inconvenience for you, being stuck there while I slept.”
“Not any more inconvenient than it must have been for you to be stuck awake because of my mood,” Bruce stated.
“You knew, huh?”
“I knew. It must be really hard for you to try to deal with everyone else’s emotions, on top of your own.”
You thought for a moment. “It can be. But, if it means that I can help the people I care about, then it’s worth it.”
Bruce smiled, and was about to speak before you were interrupted.
Dr. Banner, I am sorry to interrupt you, but Mr. Rogers is quite worried that Mrs. Barnes is not in her room.
“Could you tell him I’m here please, Jarvis?” you spoke, feeling guilty that you had made Steve worry.
There was soon a knock at the door, and when Bruce opened it, he was met by Steve’s concerned face.
“Are you ok (Y/N)?” he asked, after Bruce let him in.
“I’m fine Steve, I’m sorry. Bruce and I were watching YouTube videos, and I accidentally fell asleep. I’m sorry.”
“That’s ok, as long as you’re safe,” Steve replied.
“I really am ok. I’m kind of hungry though…”
You all agreed on breakfast, and started heading out the door. You were just out of earshot when Steve turned to Bruce.
“You should consider yourself lucky Banner,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Bruce asked.
“(Y/N) only ever falls asleep around people she trusts completely.”
When they caught up with you, Bruce had a big smile on his face, the pain of the previous night gone.
Ok, sorry it has been so long, but I have had a busy time back at uni. I hope that you like it! This is a part of the Recovery series, so look out for more!
I felt like writing something supportive that allows the Reader to bond with the others, and I hope that I conveyed her growing relationship and understanding of Bruce well.
WARNING- Brief mention of suicide.
TIMELINE - 2012
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Today was Bruce’s day. His request was very simple. He wanted to stay in, and watch movies all day. You each put a movie or two in the pile, and decided on ordering pizza for dinner.
Half way through the movie marathon, you all decided that you were hungry, and went to the kitchen to attempt to make something for lunch.
You were surprised by the lack of damage that the lower floors of Stark Tower had taken, all things considered. It left things like the kitchen, living areas and guest rooms in one piece. Tony was still frustrated about his pent house and function area, but he was planning on having it fixed as soon as his fund had taken care of the rest of New York.
Over lunch, you listened to everyone talking without saying much yourself. That was the way you had experienced the world for most of your life. Except with Bucky and Steve. When you were with them, you felt as if you were a protagonist in their stories, rather than just an observer.
Not that you really minded observing. It was through observation that you learned about the people and places around you.
It may have had something to do with your Empathic abilities, but you easily picked up the body language of your companions. You knew when Clint was faking his confidence, or when Natasha was feeling suspicious about what someone was saying. You could sense when Tony was trying to distract people from something he would rather not focus on, and when Thor was feeling particularly confused about Earth’s ways. Of course you knew Steve incredibly well.
And, you could see when Bruce was beginning to feel agitated. He had been doing quite well since the Chitauri attack, but sometimes he seemed to hit a limit on his ability to remain calm, and began to display his stress physically.
Right now, he was standing perfectly still next to the island in the kitchen, with his arms folded in front of him. His hands had retreated into his sleeves, and he was clearly having a hard time focusing his eyes.
“Bruce,” you walked up to him quietly and calmly, “do you want to go out and get some fresh air?”
He looked at you, and seemed to snap out of his daze long enough to nod.
You both managed to slip out of the room without garnering any attention, and found an outdoor area in the tower that had not been damaged.
You sat next to Bruce in perfect silence. He seemed to be grounding himself, and so you were happy to stay this way for as long as necessary.
“I did so much damage…” You heard Bruce whisper, to no one in particular, as he surveyed what he could see of the city.
“But so many people owe you their lives,” you replied in a steady manner.
He looked at you in surprise, as if he had forgotten that you were next to him, and began to consider what you had said.
“I feel like I’ve been cursed,” he said, “and the only way to end the curse is to end everything. But I can’t. He won’t let me.”
You hesitantly placed a hand gently around his shoulders, and he leaned into you a bit. You were overwhelmed by a wave of sadness and helplessness, but you were able to remain level headed through it.
“Well, maybe there are other ways to end the curse.”
“Like what?”
“Like this. Letting someone in. Letting someone know how you feel, and trusting them to stick by you despite it.”
Bruce pulled away from you, and you were worried that you had said something wrong. He looked at you silently for a moment.
“You think people will be able to accept me, even with… the other guy?”
“I do. Bruce, you are a good man. You’ve already proven that you are capable of doing good things. And, if you’re willing, you can continue to make a difference. You may never get rid of the other guy, but that doesn’t mean he is all you are.”
Bruce smiled weakly at your words, then got up to stand in front of you. You looked up at him as he pulled you onto your feet, and then into a tight hug.
You hugged him back, and didn’t let go until he did. You sensed some of his grief dissipate, and before pulling away from you, he whispered “thank you (Y/N)” into your ear.
You both went back inside and enjoyed the rest of the movies. Bruce seemed slightly more relaxed, and you felt much closer to him.
