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Bruce sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand wearily over his eyes. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the world in a gentle orange hue, and he still had fifteen papers to grade before he could go home. He had assumed that taking tenor would make his life easier, leaving him more time for his research. He hadn’t taken into account quite how many classes would be piled into his schedule in his first year.
According to Doctor Octavius, who held the research lab opposite his, first-year professors always had the busiest schedules. “We have to make sure you don’t crack under pressure, you see,” He had explained with a somewhat terrifying grin. Bruce was inclined to believe him – and also to keep as far away from his mad, dancing eyes as possible.
Returning to his papers, Bruce picked up the next set and resisted the urge to sigh. Why his students persisted in using the tiniest font possible was beyond him. Pre-emptively pulling an aspirin out of his desk, he set about highlighting half the paper in green ink.
Around five minutes in, he was interrupted by a knock on his office door.
Bruce frowned. He didn’t hold office hours on a Thursday, which meant it was a member of staff. He wondered if he’d missed a faculty meeting. Carefully, he set down the half-marked paper and removed his reading glasses.
“Come in.”
The door swung open to reveal a stern looking but gorgeous redhead.
“Good evening Doctor Banner. Mr Stark has noticed that you haven’t RSVP’d on the faculty dinner yet so he sent me to get a confirmation on numbers. Are you planning on attending?”
Bruce blinked. He’d met Mr Stark – the president of the college, along with the CEO of Stark Industries and inventor of pretty much every nuclear device in the past ten years – when he’d been granted tenor. He was pretty sure that his assistant was the enigmatic Miss Potts, not this highly attractive young woman. Still, Mr Stark was a busy man and probably had an entire team of assistants hidden away in his tower.
“Oh, sorry. When is it again? I must have missed the email.” Picking up his glasses, he turned to his computer and pulled up his email. Sure enough, buried under emails from concerned students and notifications from various journals was an invitation to the Physics Faculty Autumn Dinner Party.
“November the 14th. It officially starts at 7.00pm but Mr Stark never expects anyone to arrive before 7.30.”
Bruce checked his calendar. He would undoubtedly have an entire stack of papers to grade again, and he wasn’t exactly the most sociable guy. Besides, he tended to avoid alcohol for... various reasons.
“Sorry, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it. But thank Mr Stark for the invitation.” He looked up at the woman and tried to smile.
“I feel that Mr Stark would want you to know that no-one has declined a dinner party invitation from him in seven years.” The woman’s expression hadn’t changed – she was definitely a professional – but he got the distinct impression that he’d somehow surprised her.
“Then I suppose I shall have to be the first.” Bruce picked the paper he was marking back up. “Now, I don’t want to seem terribly rude, but I have fifteen papers to grade and if I don’t get home in time to feed the cats I’ll have a riot on my hands. I’ll send Mr Stark an email apologising. Is that all?”
The woman actually smiled. “Of course, Doctor Banner. You may want to send the email to Miss Potts as well.” She went to leave.
Just as she reached the door, Bruce had a sudden thought. “Sorry, but I don’t think I caught your name?”
The woman paused. “No, I don’t believe you did.” Then she left the room.
Bruce sat there blinking for several seconds, slightly confused. What was that all about?
Before he returned to his marking, he jotted down on a post-it note to send Pepper Potts an apologetic email in the morning – possibly with an enquiry included.
/
In a strange twist of events, November 14th found Bruce putting on his only nice suit to attend the Physics Faculty Autumn Dinner Party.
He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. Half an hour after sending his email, Tony Stark had turned up at his office carrying a set of blueprints and the world’s largest cup of coffee. Ten minutes after that, Bruce found himself with a half-a-million dollar Stark Industries contract and a promise to attend the dinner.
It was all very strange.
Still, the contract was fascinating – a new medical robot that used gamma rays as part of its diagnostics – and he’d found himself neglecting his own research in order to complete it. Even being forced to attend a social event might be worth it for that.
Running a hand through his hair, Bruce looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d had the suit for a few years and the cut wasn’t as flattering as it had once been, highlighting the stomach that had resulted from his schedule no longer allowing him to go running. His hair was starting to patchily go grey and, freshly shaven, you could see the slightly odd shape of his chin.
Bruce wasn’t a vain man. He wasn’t terribly concerned about his appearance. But, for some reason, he wanted to impress on this occasion.
He didn’t think his looks were going to leave a positive impression on anyone though.
Giving up, he slipped his phone – the latest StarkPhone™ (again, had had no idea how that had happened) – into his jacket pocket and grabbed his car keys from the nail. Bruce didn’t know anything about being fashionably late, but he assumed leaving the house at 7.20 would get him there at an appropriate time.
(It would also get him there early enough that his elderly Vauxhall Astra wouldn’t draw too much negative attention. Stark had replaced his two-year-old Samsung due to deeming it unsuitable – Bruce dreaded to think what he might do at seeing the twenty-year-old car. He was a Physics professor now, he didn’t need to accidentally become his boss’s charity case. Even if the new StarkPhone™ was pretty amazing.)
Settling into the car, Bruce flicked the radio on and allowed the sound of jazz to soothe his nerves as he drove towards Stark Tower.
Naturally, it started to rain thirty seconds into his journey. Bruce cursed the fact that he had brought neither a coat nor an umbrella. He hoped that Stark Tower had a covered parking lot – it probably did, but Tony Stark didn’t always seem like the most sensible individual. He might not have thought of the practicalities of having a covered car park for when it rained.
Arriving at Stark Tower, Bruce was amazed to see a man with a gun standing outside the entrance. He swallowed nervously. He had never liked guns. But it made sense that such a prominent figure in the nuclear industry as Tony Stark would need a security system around his company’s property.
“ID?” The guard asked as soon as Bruce had manually wound his window down.
Bruce fumbled in his suit pocket. “Bruce Banner,” He explained, handing over a battered Indian driving license.
The man stared at it for a minute. “Robert Bruce Banner?” He corrected suspiciously.
“I go by Bruce. Do you need to see my visa? I might even have my college ID around here somewhere-“
“It’s fine. You’re cleared.” The man handed Bruce his license back before stepping away. Relieved, Bruce drove forward and up to the tower.
Sure enough, there was an underground parking lot lit by an eerie blue glow. Several cars were already inside – including a Lamborghini and at least two Ferraris. Trying not to feel self conscious, he parked the Vauxhall and quickly locked it, before following the blue signs saying ‘Tower Entrance’ towards a set of elevators.
There were no buttons. Bruce was confused.
“Hello Doctor Banner. I believe you are heading for floor 72. Please step into elevator 3.”
Bruce jumped. “Who’s there?”
“I am JARVIS, Mr Stark’s Artificial Intelligence. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Tony Stark had a fully functional AI. Of course he did.
“Uh, yeah, you too.” Bruce tried to calm his heart rate. “Which one’s elevator 3?”
“To your left.” A set of doors opened to reveal a large, tinted glass elevator.
Bruce stepped inside, noticing that there were still no buttons. He assumed JARVIS would take the elevator to the right floor. Sure enough, the doors closed on their own.
Bruce tried not to panic.
Enclosed spaces. He had issues with enclosed spaces. Bruce closed his eyes and tried to think about his research. He started to recite the properties of gamma rays. The elevator started to move. Bruce felt his breathing quicken. His knees hit the floor. Behind his closed eyes, a green tinge started to build. Bruce narrowly resisted the urge to scream.
The elevator came to a halt and he just about registered someone’s hand brushing his own.
“Doctor Banner? Doctor Banner? Can you hear me? Don’t black out now-“
Bruce opened his eyes.
He could see a carpet – plush, white, extremely soft. He could feel one hand resting on it. The other was clasped in someone else’s – a female someone, judging by the nails. He raised his head slightly, but his vision lurched as he did so. He just about registered a pair of black, pointed shoes – heels – in his peripheral vision.
“Alright, Doctor Banner, just breathe slowly. It’s alright. You’re quite safe.”
A sense of horrible embarrassment started to creep up his spine.
“I’m so sorry,” He rasped, “I-“
“You had a panic attack.” The voice that interrupted him was definitely female, and seemed somewhat familiar. “Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. It should have been in your file that you were claustrophobic – next time, JARVIS can point you towards the stairs. Actually, sending you up 74 flights of stairs would be torture – perhaps Mr Stark could build a bigger elevator. I’m sure he can afford it.”
The voice finally clicked in Bruce’s head. “You’re that woman-“
“One of Mr Stark’s assistants, yes. More accurately I assist Miss Potts. JARVIS alerted me to a sudden change in your heart rate so I stopped the elevator.” Her hand slipped out from his. “How do you feel?”
Bruce thought about it. He tried to raise his head again, and this time, he managed it. The woman’s head was just as shockingly red as last time, but now he noticed her eyes were a lovely shade of green. He looked away.
“Better.” He answered truthfully. “But I don’t feel like dinner anymore.”
“That’s understandable.” Businesslike, the woman stood up – she had been crouched next to him – and wandered over to a screen on the wall. “I’ll tell Mr Stark that you have been taken ill and get Happy to escort you home. Did you drive?”
Bruce felt embarrassed again. “Yes, I drove the Astra. You can’t miss it, it’s the oldest car in the car park – apart from the vintage one from the 30’s.”
“I’ll get someone to drive that home for you as well.” She glanced at him. “Would you like a glass of water before you leave?”
“Please.”
As he waited for the glass of water, Bruce became uncomfortably aware that his skin was streaked with sweat and his shirt was sticking to his skin. Grimacing, he slowly stood up, wincing at a painful twinge from his left knee.
“There you go.” The woman handed him a glass of cold water.
Bruce took it thankfully, draining half the glass in one gulp. The coolness was incredibly refreshing, and his head felt much clearer.
“Thanks. Sorry again about this, it’s been a while – years, actually. I tend to avoid places I know set me off.”
The woman gave him a sympathetic smile. It was almost strange, given how typically inexpressive and professional her face was. Bruce thought it suited her.
“You have nothing to apologise for. If anything, it’s Mr Stark’s fault for forcing you to attend in the first place.” She took the now empty glass back from him. “I’ll contact Happy now and tell him to take you home.”
Bruce nodded, standing awkwardly as she walked back to the screen and swiped her hand across it. He saw a name briefly flash up as she was identified.
“Rushman.” He tested the name on his tongue. It didn’t quite sit right – it hadn’t been what he had expected. But then again, he didn’t really know what he should have expected.
She glanced at him. “Happy will be along in a few minutes, he’s Mr Stark’s driver. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you now to help Miss Potts organise the catering staff.” She paused. “Feel better, Doctor Banner.”
“Thank you.” He called after her, but she vanished around the corner before he could finish.
Bruce stood awkwardly in the lavish looking room, wondering once again what had just happened.
/
A week after the embarrassing Stark Tower incident, Tony Stark once again turned up at his office.
“Sorry about the elevator incident, I didn’t know you were claustrophobic. Anything else I should know for next time? Spiders? Flowerpots?”
Bruce sighed. “Hello Mr Stark. No, it’s mainly confined spaces, and sometimes really oppressive busy crowds. Sorry I couldn’t make it to dinner.”
Mr Stark waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I understand.” Something passed over his vision that suddenly made Bruce think Tony really did understand – and it surprised him. Tony Stark had panic attacks?
“Anyway,” He continued, “I wanted to make it up to you. I’m hosting a charity gala next week – raising money for an orphanage in India. I know you spent quite a lot of time working over there and I’d love you to come along. I won’t force you to socialise too much, just come for the food and the booze. Tell a couple of stories about your work with the Indian children and everyone will love you.”
Bruce froze.
“Mr Stark, I’m not sure-“
“Call me Tony.” Tony collapsed in the chair opposite Bruce’s desk. “Look, I know you’re not the biggest social butterfly, but I want to get to know you. I think your work with gamma radiation is awesome and I’ve never met anyone else I can talk about arc reactor technology with who actually understands what I’m saying. This way, I’ll get someone interesting to talk to so I don’t have to talk to too many socialites, and you’ll get me off your back about attending endless college dinners because I don’t think you spend enough time with other people. Deal?”
Bruce felt a little like he was being blackmailed into something. But he had inconvenienced Tony last week by freaking out about an elevator, and he did probably know much more about India. As long as he didn’t have to drink, it would probably be alright.
“Ok. Deal.”
Tony grinned. “Great! I’ll get Miss Rushman to take you shopping for an appropriate suit, and Happy will pick you up at eight next Friday.”
Bruce blinked. “Shopping?” With Miss Rushman, though, he did want to talk to her again after the panic attack...
“No offence, Brucie, but that suit you were wearing to the dinner? Not so flattering, even before the sweat patches. I would lend you Pepper, but she’s the only one who remembers when I need to eat. I’m sure Miss Rushman can pick out a decent suit for you, she always seems to know what she’s doing.”
Something about his phrasing made Bruce frown. “You sound like you barely know some of your staff.”
Tony burst out laughing. “Oh, Bruce – can I call you Bruce? I don’t hire these people. Pepper decides when I need someone else and sorts everything out for me. All I know about Miss Rushman is she’s highly qualified and more efficient than the Germans when I ask her to do something. She also still refuses to sleep with me for some reason. Clearly missing out.”
Bruce didn’t want to know. “Right. I really do need to go and take a lecture now.”
“Cool, cool. Go and do your job. Email Pepper a list of your free afternoons for shopping.” Tony breezed out of the room.
Bruce sat back, and hoped this wasn’t about to become his life.
/
He wasn’t entirely surprised when he arrived home for lunch on Wednesday and found Miss Rushman standing by his front door, stroking one of the cats.
“Mr Stark sent me.” She commented by way of explanation.
“Of course. Would you like to come in? I was just about to make myself lunch.” Bruce slid his key into the lock.
“Thank you.” She followed him into the house, glancing around as she did so. For a moment, Bruce had the distinct impression that she was checking all the exit points. He shook himself. He was just being paranoid – a left over sensation from when he’d always checked the exits himself.
He was greeted by two other miaowing cats – the one Miss Rushman had been stroking quickly joined in. Bruce sighed.
“Alright, alright, I’ll get you some food. Rutherford, please stop scratching the sofa. Curie, if you climb the curtains again I’m confining you to the utility room. Rontgen, please be quiet, I had enough noise when someone Doctor Octavius caused an explosion in his lab this morning.”
Miss Rushman had taken a seat on the sofa. “Interesting names.”
Bruce blushed. “I named my cats after physicists. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Locating some catfood, he scattered a little into three bowls and watched as the cats abandoned their tasks to start eating with abandon.
“Did you want anything to eat or drink?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Bruce nodded. He felt like a bad host, but then again, she was here to drag him shopping. He didn’t necessarily need to be nice to people like that.
He shoved a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster before locating the jelly and a knife. He considered grabbing peanut butter as well, but he’d never been as fond of that as people seemed to expect.
It seemed rather quiet – apart from the sounds of the toaster and cats – and Bruce scrambled for a conversation topic. “So how long have you been working for Mr Stark?”
Miss Rushman seemed to consider for a moment, although her expression didn’t change. “A few months.”
“Not that long then?”
“I suppose not, no.”
Fascinating conversation there, Doctor Banner.
“Is he a good boss?”
At that, she visibly shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
Bruce gave her a concerned look.
“Your toast’s ready.”
It was an obvious deflection, but Bruce let it stand. She wasn’t his friend , she was his boss’s assistant – well, one of them. Her life was none of his business if she didn’t want to talk about it.
He tried to eat as fast as possible – he didn’t want to waste either her time or his. If this was over with fast enough he might be able to work on his research this evening.
“Alright, I’m done. Where are we going?”
“Mr Stark’s personal tailor.” Miss Rushman stood up. “I have a car waiting outside.”
Bruce nodded, picking up his wallet.
“You won’t need that. Mr Stark’s paying as he’s the one who insisted on a new suit.”
Bruce felt a bit uncomfortable. He could feel the weight of his StarkPhone™ in his pocket telling him how much money had been spent on him already. But as had been said before, it wasn’t like the billionaire scientist couldn’t afford it.
The driver of the car wasn’t Happy, who Bruce had met before, but a new man he didn’t know.
“Clive.” Miss Rushman answered his unspoken question. “He’s part of Mr Stark’s security team.”
“Are we stopping anywhere on the way, Nat?”
Nat? Bruce was confused until he realised that must be Miss Rushman’s first name. Nat. It seemed to suit her better.
“No.”
Nat and Clive seemed familiar with each other, as if they’d been friends for a long time. In fact, the familiarity could hint at something more than friends. Lovers, perhaps, or siblings. The first seemed more likely given their different appearances. It was strange, and Miss Rushman – Nat – had said she had only worked for Tony for a few months. Perhaps Clive had gotten her the job.
The journey wasn’t long, and soon they had pulled up outside a very upperclass looking tailors.
“I’ll call you for pickup. We’ll probably be a couple of hours.” Nat spoke to Clive as she ushered Bruce out of the car.
A couple of hours? What exactly was Nat planning on doing in this tailor?
“Alright. Just remember we’ve got a meeting later.”
Nat nodded, and Clive gave her a look before pulling the car away.
“Alright, Doctor Banner. Some ground rules.” Miss Rushman seemed to be thinking about something. “Number one, no talking to the other clients. This is where all the important people in the city get their suits from, and they don’t expect to be harassed. Number two, here and here only you call me Natalie. You’re coming in as a friend of Mr Stark’s so they’ll expect familiarity. In return, I will call you Bruce. Number three, no protesting at what I choose for you or the price. I know what I’m doing. I expect you to trust me.”
Bruce nodded his acquiescence.
“Excellent. Follow me.”
Bruce wandered after Natalie into the tailor, trying not to gape. This place screamed of money. He hadn’t been in a shop quite like this in his life.
“Natalie, darling! Such a pleasure to see you again. And this must me Mr Stark’s wonderful friend. I’ve heard some great things about your work. Fascinating.” A red-faced man appeared and kissed Natalie’s cheeks before shaking Bruce’s hand. “So what do you need today?”
“One suit for Bruce. Traditional cut, not black – I’m thinking grey but I may change my mind. Two silk shirts, plain colours. Two ties. Throw in a pair of shoes as well to match the suit – the upgraded Italian ones.”
“Of course! If you’d like to follow me I’ll make the necessary measurements.”
Natalie placed a hand on Bruce’s back and guided him after the tailor. Her hand felt warm and soothing. To his surprise, the touch made him grounded and he seemed to calm down. He hadn’t even realised how agitated he was.
They went into a small changing room. It was much more lavish than the rooms Bruce normally found himself in on the rare occasions he forced himself to go shopping.
“Now, if you could please disrobe.”
Bruce froze.
“Disrobe?”
“Sorry, he’s a bit body-shy.” Natalie stepped forward towards Bruce. “Shirt and trousers, keep your underwear on.”
Bruce floundered. On the one hand, he could see why he had to undress. On the other, he felt rather uncomfortable doing it in front of people – body-shy was definitely the right description – especially Natalie. It had been a long time since he showed his body to a female. Of course, this was an entirely different context, but Natalie was an attractive woman and he couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it. He didn’t really want to show her how – disappointing he was.
Noticing the other two staring expectantly, he looked down and started to unbutton his shirt.
To his surprise, Natalie respectfully turned away as he shrugged the shirt off. The gesture made him both glad – he had put on more weight than he’d thought – and slightly disappointed that she didn’t want to see. But then again, why would she want to? She seemed to have Clive, and she was far too attractive for someone like him.
He didn’t even know her.
Once he was fully unclothed – apart from his underwear – the tailor started to take measurements. He had to stretch his arms in strange directions and raise his legs in odd ways. He had no idea why rich people did this just to get a slightly better fitting suit. It was humiliating. He felt like a puppet.
“All done. You can redress now, I’ll bring some fabrics out that might be suitable for you and Natalie to look over.”
The tailor left, slipping out so no-one could see in, and Bruce gratefully pulled his old shirt and jeans back on. He had never felt more exposed – well, no, that wasn’t quite true. But this was a different kind of exposure, and having dealt with the others he didn’t want to have to deal with this too.
“I’m sorry if my presence made you uncomfortable.” Natalie was still facing away so Bruce couldn’t see her face.
“It wasn’t you. I don’t like being... exposed. But thank you. For turning away.”
“I should have asked.”
“I should have said no to Tony. But I’m very bad at doing that.”
At that, Natalie did turn around. A hint of a smile played across her face for an instant.
“Not many people can say no to Tony Stark. He’s very used to getting his own way and he’s learnt how to manage it.”
“Can you talk like that about your employer?” Bruce asked, smiling.
“If you’re asking if he’ll fire me for it, of course he won’t. Surprisingly he likes it when people stand up to him. Miss Potts has done it for years and he has the world’s largest crush on her. Not, of course, that you heard that from me.”
“Pepper and Tony? I thought he was a playboy?” Bruce went a little red at the term. “I mean-“
“He is. Not as much recently, but he did enough in his youth for the media to be able to report things that aren’t strictly true and sound believable. He flirts with everyone – he’s propositioned me – but he doesn’t follow through so much anymore. I’d like to think he’s growing up except I’ve met him.”
Bruce snorted.
They were interrupted by the tailor coming back in. “These are the materials that I think would be best. What do you think?”
Natalie was already the businesswoman again. Bruce was starting to understand that she had two personas – Miss Rushman, professional assistant to Stark Industries, and Nat, who possessed a rather good sense of humour and a hidden caring side. Who had a boyfriend on Stark’s security team. Who still wasn’t at all accessible in the long term to someone like Bruce.
“The first one, no. Too light. The second is acceptable, the third better. I’m going to pretend you never showed me the fourth. Go with the third and try to make the buttons discreet. Nice deep pockets too. Show me the ties.”
It went on like this for something like half an hour, Bruce standing there as Natalie poured over seemingly identical materials and found fault with everything. Eventually, she settled on something she was happy with and stepped back.
“How long before the suit will be complete?”
“Two days.”
“I’ll bring Bruce back for the fitting. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, Natalie. A pleasure, Bruce.”
Hands were shaken again, and then Natalie was leading Bruce back out to the car.
As Clive drove Bruce home in silence, he had a sudden thought.
“So are you Miss Rushman now? Or can I call you Natalie? You can call me Bruce.”
Clive snorted.
Natalie aimed a glare at the back of Clive’s head, before turning to Bruce. “In company, I would prefer Miss Rushman. Otherwise Natalie is fine, Bruce.”
He felt a smile creeping along his face.
Oh, he was totally fucked.
/
“Mr Frei! May I introduce my colleague Dr Banner? He’s a physicist, worked in India for a time.”
Bruce plastered a smile on his face as he was introduced to yet another man on the wrong side of middle age.
To be honest, the charity gala wasn’t as bad as he had expected. It wasn’t overcrowded, and when he had asked the bar for water they had given it to him with no complaints so he wasn’t forced to drink alcohol. Most of the people there were perfectly nice and he’d actually met a few he was interested in talking to.
The only problem was Tony regularly grabbing him to introduce him to the big donors – financial tycoons who he absolutely did not want to talk to.
“It’s a pleasure, Doctor Banner. An absolute pleasure. India is such a fantastic country is it not?”
Tony slipped away, leaving Bruce to fumble through yet another awkward conversation.
“The community in Calcutta is lovely, yes.” He replied, sipping his water.
“It truly is so sad about all that poverty.” Mr Frei continued.
“A great pity.” Bruce echoed.
Silence fell for a moment, and Bruce wracked his brains for a topic. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a familiar figure.
“Excuse me, I need to get another drink,” He lied, slipping away and making his way through the crowd.
Natalie looked up as he approached, her face carefully blank. “Doctor Banner.”
“Could you point me towards the nearest bathroom so I can hide for an hour so Tony stops introducing me to people?”
Bruce could have sworn he saw a smile flick onto Natalie’s face. “Down the corridor. But if you wanted to hide in comfort there’s a study at the end of the hall. Plenty of soda and whiskey in there. I’ll inform Mr Stark you went to get some air.”
“Thank you.” He smiled gratefully at Natalie before heading towards the study.
By some miracle, he only got stopped by one person – a Mr Coulson who didn’t get to the point of his conversation before Bruce had made his apologies – before he reached the study. Noticing it had a lock, he slid it across and collapsed on a very comfortable looking leather sofa.
He had a newfound respect for all those socialites who spent all their life schmoozing at galas. It was much harder work than you’d expect, and Bruce wasn’t exactly the best at small talk. Downing the rest of his drink, he laid his head back and tried to relax.
/
Bruce woke up to find three people standing over him.
“Wh- oh gosh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He tried to sit up hurriedly but was clearly too fast as his head spun.
“It’s alright, Doctor Banner. It’s only been a few hours. The gala isn’t even over yet.”
Sure enough, Bruce could still make out music in the background.
The man speaking – Bruce vaguely remembered him from earlier, Coulson or something – continued. “I was wondering earlier if you were interested in a unique job opportunity.”
Bruce glanced at Coulson, then at his companions. He frowned. “I’ve been woken up by a guy offering me a job, one of Stark’s assistants, and a member of the security team? I don’t understand. I’m sorry, I’m too tired right now. I have a job, I like my job. I think I need to go home.” He paused. “Didn’t I lock the door? How did you even get in?”
“JARVIS.” Natalie replied. She stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Bruce, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
Something clicked into place in Bruce’s head. The way Rushman didn’t seem to fit as a name. The way her and Clive were closer than her eomplyment time allowed. The way she effortlessly switched between multiple personas like she’d been doing so all her life.
“You’re spies. All of you.”
Coulson looked honestly taken aback. Clive – or whatever his name was – looked impressed. Natalie’s expression didn’t change.
“Yes.” She replied. “Clint and I have been stationed with Mr Stark for his protection. However when I met you I saw... potential.”
Bruce blinked. “I would make an awful spy.”
“Yes.” Clive – Clint – agreed.
Natalie glared at Clint again.
“We’re not trying to offer you a job as a spy.” Coulson clarified. “We work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We’ve recently been monitoring some nuclear threats. Our director has elected that we should bring a radiation expert into the team to give us more understanding of what we’re up against, and potentially to go into the field. That would be you.”
Part of Bruce wanted to say yes. Academia wasn’t what he had thought it would be. This would allow him to get out while he still could.
But he knew there were reasons why he couldn’t, even if they didn’t.
“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He stood up, brushing some of the creases out of his ludicrously expensive suit. “I really should go home and rest. Thank you for the offer.”
“Doctor Banner, I urge you to reconsider.” Something entered Coulson’s voice.
“I’m sorry.” He repeated.
Bruce stepped past the three spies and headed back towards the gala.
“JARVIS, where are the nearest stairs?”
“To your left, Doctor Banner.”
Bruce made his way towards the wooden doors, thankful that this gala was only on the fifth floor.
“Bruce?”
He knew that voice. Bruce was so tempted not to turn around. But despite everything, there was a part of him that still liked – more than liked, truthfully – Natalie Rushman. Or whoever the hell she actually was.
“Natalie? Is that your name?”
“Natasha. I normally go by Natasha.”
“Right.” He met her eyes. “If you’ve come to try and persuade me-“
“I know about the Other Guy.”
Bruce’s knees buckled.
His vision seemed to have whited out, but he felt a familiar hand slip into his. He almost laughed at the situation, but he had a feeling it would come out hysterical.
“It’s alright. I haven’t told anyone. I don’t – well, I can’t say if Coulson or Clint know because I’m sure Fury does, but their knowledge never came from me. It’s not theirs to know. But I understand why you turned Coulson’s offer down.”
“I’m a monster.” Bruce muttered.
“So am I.” There was a noise as, presumably, Natasha sat down beside him. “You said spy, but I probably would have chosen a different word. One with much less looking and much more taking out of the threats.”
Bruce felt queasy again.
“Assassin.”
“Of a kind. I don’t know if it makes any difference when you’re only killing the bad guys. Bad is pretty subjective after all. You’re much less of a monster than I am.”
Then Bruce really did let out a hysterical laugh. “I turn into a giant green rage monster. How are you worse than that?”
“You’re not in control of what you’re doing. I am. You don’t choose to do the damage you do. I do. That makes me worse, because I have a choice.”
There wasn’t much Bruce could say to that.
“I can’t say that I understand everything about you – I don’t. But I understand enough. You think you’ll be a threat. You think you’ll get in stressful situations and people will end up hurt. But I know you.” Natasha paused. “I know that you don’t like hurting, or killing. I know that your control is almost impeccable because you can come down from a panic attack without turning. I know that you’ve pushed yourself to your limits so that you know them and can avoid going past them. And I know that you understand that this is really the better option, because you’ll be surrounded by people who are trained for this and know instead of by innocent students who can’t deal with the threat you pose if you accidentally become the Other Guy again.”
“Are you trying to force me into it?”
“No.” Natasha removed her hand again. “No. It has to be your choice. You’ve never had enough choices in your life, it won’t work if this isn’t something you decide for yourself. It’s just... I tried the normal life once. Clint and I. It doesn’t work how you expect it to, does it?”
Bruce thought about it.
He thought about India, and why he had come to America. He thought about why he had ended up under tenor at Stark’s college. He thought about the Other Guy, and everything he’d hidden away for so long.
“No.” He finally answered.
Bruce opened his eyes – he hadn’t realised he’d closed them – and met Natasha’s steady green gaze.
“There’s another reason, isn’t there?” He asked.
A smile spread over her face – a proper smile, not the hints he’d received from her so far. Her eyes seemed to twinkle in the light and she looked much younger, even more beautiful than before.
“Yes. But you’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.”