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The first thing Natasha noticed about Bruce was his hands.
He was always wringing them together to help soothe his nerves, stroking the skin back and forth as if to soothe the beast inside of him. His hands were more unblemished than Natasha would have guessed they'd be from a man who lived his life in various jungles all of the world. They were big too as evidenced from how small cups and beakers looked in comparison when he was holding them. Natasha wasn’t one to care about size, but the knowledge didn’t hurt. Currently she was learning another fact about the good doctor’s hands: they were deceptively soft.
She had just arrived back at the compound after a botched mission with Clint. The arms dealer they had been tracking figured out they were coming and rigged one of their warehouses to blow. Thankfully, no one on the team had died, but most of them had pretty bad burns, especially Natasha. Her left shoulder down to the mid part of her back had been singed as they ran from the blast. It wasn’t going to scar, according to Clint when he had first wrapped her on the jet, but it definitely needed to be cleaned and cared for by a medical professional. And luckily, Natasha knew where to find one.
It wasn’t a surprise to find Bruce hunched over one of the computers in Tony’s side of the lab but, judging from his eyebrow raise as she slid open the door, he was surprised to see her. Their relationship had taken a turn after the battle in New York. They were friends, at least, semi-friends. Natasha knew Bruce still felt guilty for trying to kill her, but it wasn’t a big deal to her. She was still breathing, he was alive. That’s all that mattered. Still, he treated her like a glass doll, always afraid to hurt her. It was sweet. Naive, but sweet. It was that kind of attitude that made it hard for Natasha to stay away from him. She tried to talk herself into thinking that her relationship with Brue was only professional, but even she wasn’t that good of a liar. She wanted him. And, if his hands clenching every time they were in the same room together were anything to go by, he wanted her too.
He didn’t say anything when she came into the lab, just gestured to a lab bench before getting the first aid kit. Natasha quickly stripped off her tank top as Bruce came behind her and she clearly heard his gasp as he took in her wounds.
“You should see the other guy,” she tried to joke, but Bruce stayed silent. He started cleaning her shoulder and Natasha tried not to wince as the alcohol treated her open wounds.
Instead, she focused on the doctor’s hands. She could feel the soft pads of his fingers gently rubbing ointment up and down her skin, carefully moving so as to not hurt her further. The palm of his hands rubbed against her ribs as he began to wrap a thick bandage along the top of her torso. Finally, his strong fingers came to a halt as he clipped the bandage together towards the top of her shoulder. Natasha could feel herself holding her breath as those same fingers moved from her shoulder to her bare collarbone up her throat to grasp her chin gently.
Green eyes met brown as Bruce took in every inch of her face. Nataha couldn’t breathe. “Thanks for the help,” she whispered.
He said nothing for a moment before moving his thumb from her chin to her bottom lip. Her eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as she finally felt his soft skin rub against her lip once, twice, three times.
Finally, he spoke, “Anytime.”