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.”
Summary: Based on Piece by Piece
Warnings: one swear, abandonment theme
Six years old
Their voices echoed around the house, filled with rage. You were hidden beneath your desk, head between your knees and arms wrapped around yourself. Something crashed and you flinched, pulling your blanket over your head. His words grew louder, fueled by fury. Tears began to slip down your cheeks.
“You just fuck everything up! You-you and that daughter of yours!”
“Then why the hell are you still here?”
It grew quiet after your mother’s words.
“I’m not.”
– – –
Ten years old
“Waverly, (Y/n),” Bruce said softly, grabbing your mother’s attention. “Lunch is ready.”
Standing up, you brushed the dirt from your jeans and ran toward Bruce. “What’s for lunch today, Banner?” you asked, taking the hand he held out to you and trying to sound like your mother did when they discussed whatever they were staring at under their microscopes.
“Stew and mealie,” he answered with a smile as you ducked into the small building you were living in while he and your mother researched a virus rapidly spreading through the villages nearby. You dropped his hand, squealing in happiness and rushing to the makeshift table in the center of the room. Mealie was a luxury, and you were excited.
Bruce sat at the head of the table beside you and your mother settled across from you. “Do you want lessons today, princess?” your mother asked.
“Can daddy teach me?” you asked, reaching across the table and grabbing for the bread. Bruce smiled down at you as he filled your bowl. After your father walked out, he and your mother started working together. They had never been more than colleagues, but you were eight when you’d first called him dad. That first time it had been an accident, and your mother had apologized over and over. He just started laughing, insisting it was alright. It wasn’t an accident after that.
“What’s today, Waverly?” he asked your mother.
“Chemistry,” she answered, pouring stew into her own bowl. “You’re good–” your mother was cut off when a cough tore through her chest, “good with those lessons.”
“Are you alright, momma?” you asked, looking at Bruce with wide and frightened eyes.
“I’m fine, princess,” she answered, taking a deep breath and resting her hand against her chest. “Just fine.”
– – –
Twenty-three years old
Cold air whipped at your arms as you stood across the street from the tower. You had been standing in the cold for nearly twenty minutes, staring at the front door. It wasn’t the first time you’d come to the tower to visit Bruce, but it was the first time you’d come as his employee instead of his daughter. Another shiver ran through your body as you leaned against the wall behind you.
“You’d probably be warmer inside, princess.” His voice surprised you.
“Damn it, Banner,” you said, turning toward him with a hand on your heart.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, laughing quietly as he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders. “I figured you’d seen me come over.”
Holding the jacket tighter around your shoulders, you giggled. “How long have been here?”
“Long enough,” he answered. Bruce slung an arm over your shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“What am I doing, dad?” you asked. Your voice cracked and you realized you weren’t just shaking from the cold. “I don’t deserve to be here... Tony only hired me because of you.”
His quiet chuckles reached your ears and you glared at him through the corner of your eye. “Princess,” he said, tucking you into his side. “You just graduated from NYU at the top of your class with a Master’s in Chemical Engineering.” There was still doubt in your eyes and he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Anyway,” he added, “Tony choose you long before he knew you were my daughter.”
Your eyes grew wide and you looked up at him in surprise. “Really?” you asked quietly.
“Yes, princess,” he told you, dropping his arm from your shoulders and taking your hand. Neither of you spoke as you let him pull you across the street and into the tower. He didn’t break the silence until you stepped onto the elevator and it lurched up. “You deserve to be here, and it has nothing to do with me.”
“I love you, daddy,” you said quietly, dropping his hand and winding your arms tightly around his waist.
“I love you too, princess,” he said. You let go as the elevator slowed and you felt Bruce squeeze your fingers. “Ready?”
“Don’t have much of a choice, do I, dad?”
Bruce began laughing as the elevator doors opened. “What’s so funny, Banner?” Tony’s voice drifted through the large room and you felt a nervous blush fill your cheeks. You stayed behind Bruce when you stepped out of the elevator and Tony’s eyes lit up. “It’s the baby Hulk!” he cried out in joy, walking over and ruffling your hair.
“Tony,” you whined. “You know Bruce isn’t my biological dad. I’m no more a baby Hulk than you’re an actual iron man.”
“Whatever you say, baby Hulk,” Tony said, smirking and tossing you a wink. You groaned in annoyance, but followed when he motioned. “I know it’s your first day and all, but I’ve never really been one for easing the interns in, so you’re going to be working with aluminum hydride and rocket fuel today. Think you can handle it?
A smile had spread across your face before he’d finished and you were nodding enthusiastically. “Definitely, Tony,” you said, excitement lacing your voice. Grinning, Tony pointed to the opposite corner of the lab and you spun around, already rushing away.
Two steps and you collided with something warm and solid and stumbled backwards. You squeezed your eyes shut and waited to feel the solid ground beneath you before you felt large hands grab your waist and steady you. “I-I’m so sorry, ma’am,” a voice stuttered.
“My fault,” you said, opening your eyes to be met with two bright blue ones. “I-I wasn’t paying attention.” His hands were still on your waist, and you felt your cheeks heat up. “Thank you,” you paused to stare at him, “f-for catching me, I mean.”
“Of course,” he said. “I haven’t seen you around.” It came out as more of a question than a statement.
“I just started work today,” you answered.
Tony cleared his throat. “Which is what you should be doing,” he said. The blond man quietly took his hands from your waist and dropped his eyes from yours. You scurried away, keeping your eyes on the floor and away from the man. “What do you need, Cap?”
Your eyes grew wide as you fiddled with the equipment Tony had set up on the table he’d directed you to. You ran a hand nervously through your hair. Not only had you awkwardly flirted in front of your father, but you’d awkwardly flirted with Captain America in front of your father.
“Uh,” Steve stammered, his eyes were glazed over. He shook his head, “M-my shield?”
“Right here, Steve,” Bruce said, his voice filled with humor.
“Thanks, Bruce,” Steve said. A moment later you heard a crash and looked up to see the ground covered in broken test tubes, embarrassment etched onto Steve’s face as he stared at the mess.
“S-sorry,” he said again. “I-I didn’t see the table.” You couldn’t help but laugh and you bit your lip to try to muffle the sound. Steve’s eyes flashed to you and his cheeks colored as he smiled shyly.
“It’s okay, lover boy,” Tony sighed. “I’ll get Dum-E to clean it up. Just don’t break anything else.” Steve nodded, his cheeks still pink, and turned to walk from the room, managing to run into the door on his way. “Well,” Tony said, “that was interesting.”
“As you father,” Bruce said, glancing up from the papers in his hands to watch you over the edges of his glasses, “I’ll never think anyone is good enough for you,” you sighed dramatically, dropping your head onto the table in front of you, “but Steve is probably the closest anyone will come.”
– – –
Twenty-four years old
Bruce was sitting at his desk, staring intently at the papers in front of him. You glanced at the ring on your finger, shoving your left hand into your pocket before walking across the lab. Wrapping your right arm around Bruce and hugging him loosely, you set your chin on his shoulder and pressed your cheek to his. “Hey, daddy?” you hummed.
“Princess?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the paperwork in front of him.
“I-I know you’re not my biological dad,” you started, and Bruce set down the highlighter he’d been using, taking your right hand in his before standing up and turning to face you, “but you’re the closest thing I-I’ve ever had and I really don’t want it to be any-any other way...” Trailing away, you dropped your eyes down to your hand still held in his.
“Where is this going, princess?” Bruce asked, anxiety edging into his voice.
“Steve...” you took a deep breath, “Steve asked me to marry him, daddy. I-I know you already know because he asked permission and you told him he was an idiot for it because I’m not the old fashioned type and-and daddy?”
“Yeah, princess?” he asked, a smile spreading across his face as he realized you weren’t upset, but nervous.
“Will you walk me down the aisle, daddy?”
Euphoria filled his eyes as he stared at you, nodding. “As your father,” he said, his voice watery, “I really don’t want it to be any other way either.”
– – –
Twenty-five years old
You couldn’t breathe. Your vision began to blur as you stared at the white stick in your hands. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be a mother, but you couldn’t be a mother. Echoes of your father’s words rang through your ears and you felt sick.
The test bounced off the wall when you threw it, and you desperately gasped for air as you stood up and walked from the room. You wandered through the halls on autopilot, your arms wrapped around your shaking body. “Hey, baby...” trailed away when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks and he quietly slipped from the room.
Bruce jerked out of his chair, rushing across the room and wrapping his arms around you. He lead you carefully toward the couches and lounge Tony had insisted was necessary as you began to sob. His hands began to rub comforting circles in the small of your back as he sang the lullaby you mother had taught him all those years before in Africa. You began to cry harder, curling into the fetal position on his lap, gripping his shirt in your fists. He hadn’t seen you this broken since your mother’s funeral when you were twelve.
Your cries began to die and you snuggled into to Bruce’s side, shifting to wrap your arms around him and pull yourself closer to him. “Do you want to talk about it, princess?”
“I-I,” your voice cracked and tears fell from your eyes again. Bruce hushed you and began to play with your hair. You took a deep and shaking breath, “I’m pregnant, Daddy.”
His heart swelled and then clenched at your news. “Does Steve not want kids, princess? What did he say to you?”
“N-n-no,” you said, still gasping as you tried to keep from crying, “b-but Daddy... w-what if-if I end up l-like him?”
Understanding washed over Bruce and he pulled you onto his lap, holding you tightly as he began to rock slowly. “Oh, princess,” he said quietly. “You are never going to be like him. You fell so far from the tree.”
“W-what if I-I hurt it, Daddy?” you asked, your voice choked and thick.
“You are going to be an amazing mother, princess,” he whispered, smoothing your hair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Just like yours.”
– – –
Twenty-six years old
Steve stood in the middle of the room, bouncing your daughter in one arm. He was cooing at her, making silly faces as he tickled her sides. You were leaning against the door, watching him. “Do you know how lucky we are, princess?” he said quietly. “See, we have your momma and she is just an angel.” Your daughter giggled in his arms. “I knew I was gonna marry her as soon as I saw her. There’s never been a momma as kind as yours, Sarah. She doesn’t believe me, but she’s pretty perfect.”
He started to sing nonsense as Sarah’s noises died away. You felt tears pooling in your eyes as you watched your husband lean down to place your daughter in her crib. Steve’s eyes widened and you hurried to brush the tears from your eyes as he rushed over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The ground disappeared from beneath you when he lifted you into his arms and carried you from the room, closing the door quietly with his foot. It was silent as he carried you into the living room, neither of you wanting to wake the little girl he had finally managed to rock to sleep.
“Doll, what’s wrong?” he asked as he sat down on the couch, turning you in his lap so you had a leg on either side of him.
Winding your arms around his neck, you nuzzled into the croook of his shoulder. “I love you so much, Stevie,” you mumbled against his skin.
His lips pressed to your temple and you felt them bend into a smile. “I love you so much, (Y/n),” he said. “You are my universe – you and Sarah. Nothing is ever going to take either of you away from me. My heart belongs to you.”
Giggling, you moved away from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. His hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the few tears still on your face. “You’re an amazing father, Stevie. I always knew you would be.”
“And you’re an amazing mother,” he answered without hesitation. “I always knew you would be.” He kissed you softly and you sighed against his lips, melting into his hold. “We should sleep before Sarah wakes up,” he said and you nodded in agreement.
“Carry me to bed, Stevie?” you asked, holding tight to his neck and burying your head against his chest, which began to shake with laughter.
Instead of answering, he just stood and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me carrying you to bed for the rest of your life, (Y/n).”
Summary: You’ve already been dating for a few months, but the team doesn’t know and they’re all getting sick of the flirting
Warnings:
A/N: Based off the amazing @axengers-oneshots gif preferences pt. 6
You could feel him staring and it took all your focus not to stare back. Tony was explaining whatever new gadget he’d come up with over the weekend. Your willpower faded quickly and your eyes drifted to him. A shy smile was on his face and his hair was as messy as it had been when you’d snuck from his room that morning.
– – –
“Are you sure you need to go?” he asked, reaching up and grabbing your wrist when you moved from his bed. You let him pull you back onto the mattress and into his arms.
His fingers ran up and down your back. You hummed happily. “I’d stay in bed all day with you if I could.” Tracing your fingers over his still bare chest, you kissed his shoulder.
Bruce pressed his lips to your forehead and moved so he could hold you closer. He pulled the blankets back over your bodies – he was always worried about how cold you were – and you nuzzled into him. Neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the feeling of having the other close and safe and alive. “Bruce?” you finally whispered, not yet wanting to break the peace.
“Baby?”
“Unless you want Tony to catch me sneaking out of your room half dressed and in your clothes, I really do need to go.”
He sighed and shifted to kiss your lips softly. “I love you, (Y/n).”
“I love you too, Bruce.”
– – –
“(Y/n)!” Tony’s voice broke into your daydream and you snapped back to the meeting, heat filling your cheeks. Bruce’s shoulders shook as he laughed silently. “We are literally having this meeting because of how much you suck with our tech.”
“S-sorry,” you stammered, dropping your gaze to your hands. “I was, uhm, distracted.”
“Everyone noticed,” Natasha muttered from your side, smirking when she glanced at you. “Maybe if you two just fucked already, it wouldn’t be such a distraction.” Red dusted your cheeks again and you turned wide eyes to Bruce, mouth falling open. He looked as taken aback as you. The rest of the table dissolved into laughter.
You just stared at Bruce, unable to form a coherent thought. The shock on his face slowly faded, replaced by the mischievous grin you’d seen the night before. “Hulk smash?”
“WHAT THE SHIT? WHEN NATASHA SAID GO FUCK SHE DIDN’T MEAN DO IT WHERE ANYONE CAN FIND YOU!”
