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Bruce's greatest fear in life after his daughter is born isn't Loki or HYDRA or how they're going to afford college tuition. It's that one day she's going to meet the Other Guy and he'll hurt her.
"I honestly don't understand why you're worrying about this," Darcy says late one night when she finds him standing in the nursery, staring down at the steady rise and fall of Tabitha's chest; he’s been there for at least an hour already and he thinks he could stay in this same spot for another hour at least. Darcy’s face is pillow creased and puffy with sleep, and the quilt her mother made them as a please-oh-please-just-get-married-and-stop-living-in-sin-already-so-I-can-face-my-friends-at-the-country-club-with-my-pride-intact bribe is draped over her shoulders.
("It's possible that it's just a Christmas present," Bruce said, looking around at the tree and the lights and the general abundance of green and red colored cheer.
"Eh," Darcy said and continued glowering at the unwrapped package. "With my mother? It can totally be both at the same time.")
When she comes up beside him, she wraps it around them both so that she can cuddle up against his side. Bruce doesn't think it'll ever stop astonishing him how easily she touches him. It's fearlessness or foolishness, probably, but it mostly just feels like a gift, and he puts an arm around her waist to pull her closer. "You're an amazing dad and I know how much you love her. And I know you don't like to talk about it, but the Other Guy is you. You've got to know he'd take one look at her and love her too."
"You can't know that for certain," Bruce says. Tabitha kicks her chubby little legs in her sleep, tossing her blanket half off her, and he carefully pulls it back up and tucks her in just a little more securely.
"Remember when you were worried that she'd come out green?" Darcy presses her face against Bruce's bicep and he can feel her smile through the thin fabric of his t-shirt sleeve.
"I blame that entirely on Tony and his liquor cabinet."
"Of course you do, baby." she says with a peck to his shoulder. "But do you remember what I said?"
"'Stop being a dumbass, we'll love her even if she's green. We'll just have to be little more careful about how we decorate the nursery so she won't clash. Everything's going to be fine,'" Bruce quotes in a passable imitation of Darcy's annoyed ranting tone.
“And it was,” she says, like it’s as simple as that. “I trust you, Bruce, every part of you. I wish you could do the same.” She pauses to yawn, then leans more heavily against his chest. “Now stop making me act like the level headed one in this relationship. You know how that always freaks me the fuck out.”
Bruce looks down at Darcy with her tangle of sleep mussed hair and tired, sincere smile. She’s beautiful, even in these moments when she shouldn’t be, and he kisses her. It’s a soft, simple thing, barely even firm enough to catch the small startled squeak she makes, and even the threat of morning breath doesn’t make him pull away for several long moments. When he does, Darcy hugs his waist tight and makes a contented noise when he puts his arms around her shoulders and rests his cheek against the top of her head, heedless of the quilt falling to the floor.
“Dumbass,” she says fondly.
Darcy tries to respect Bruce’s feelings. Really, she does, because she’s been in that position where someone’s told her that the way she was feeling was wrong, just wrong--never mind the fact that they’re her fucking feelings for her to feel however she damn well pleases--and she knows how much that sucks. So it’s not like she’s trying to orchestrate a meeting or anything, but sometimes these things just happen.
This time the thing that happens is this:
Bruce doesn’t come back to the mansion after missions anymore. While his control over when and how he lets the Other Guy out is near total, the same can’t be said for his ability to pull him back in, and he’s had a strict self imposed ‘no Hulks in the house’ rule ever since he first found out that Darcy was pregnant. SHIELD is the obvious choice--there are safe guards and an Other Guy-sized suite of rooms (paid for by Tony, who hacked into their system and added the plans into a remodeling program so Fury couldn’t say no until it was too late) and it means he’s right there to be debriefed once he’s back to himself again--but there’s one little problem with that plan: Darcy works at SHIELD too.
Most days it’s fine. Between maternity leave and Bruce being on the other side of the compound from her desk, their chances of running into each other are slim to begin with. She brings Tabitha in with her so infrequently that the odds of the Other Guy bumping into Darcy with Tabitha on her hip in the middle of a hallway are astronomically small.
Of course, Darcy lives in the same house as a super soldier, a guy who took his Optimus Prime Halloween costume a few steps too far, a demi-god, and the Hulk’s alter ego. What are the odds of that, you know? So honestly, none of them should be as surprised as they are when Darcy turns a corner on her way back from the break room and walks straight into the Other Guy.
Steve and Tony are on either side of him--and Darcy doesn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted on Bruce’s behalf for how quickly Steve’s hand clenches around his shield--and for a handful of moments they all just stand there blinking at each other.
“Little,” Hulk finally breaks the silence by rumbling. His eyes are fixed on Tabitha, who doesn’t appear at all concerned by the giant green guy peering down at her. Instead, she gurgles happily and stretches a pudgy hand out toward him. He reaches out toward her slowly, slowly enough that Darcy can stop Steve with a short shake of her head when he moves to stop him, and his finger just barely grazes over the dark, downy hair that curls in little wisps over her head.
“Yeah,” Darcy agrees. Her heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of her chest, but it feels more like a finally than an oh my god, shit’s about to get real kind of thing. “She’s very little and very fragile.”
Tabitha latches onto Hulk’s finger with both hands, her little fingers not even coming close to circling it, and slobbers all over it when he lets her pull it to her mouth.
“Hulk’s,” he says with a look that Darcy would call besotted on anyone else. Actually? Fuck it. That guy is totally besotted.
“She’s ours,” she corrects. “Yours, Bruce’s, and mine. She's ours to love and raise and keep safe.”
Hulk looks up at Darcy then and nods. “Ours,” he agrees with the kind of hard smile that promises an unholy torrent of pain will rain down on anyone who even looks at what’s his wrong.
Darcy grins at him, and when he touches her cheek with the hand that Tabitha hasn’t claimed, she turns her head to kiss his palm.
“Told you,” Tony says, and Steve digs out his wallet to pass him a ten.
Bruce still doesn’t always come home to the mansion after a mission, but it’s becoming less and less uncommon to walk into a room and find him in all his big, green glory. Darcy doesn’t realize exactly how normal it feels until she goes into the den to grab some papers she’d left there the night before and comes across Hulk and Tabitha. Hulk’s on his back, the ground around him littered with small, soft plushies of the team, and his snores are deep enough that Darcy can feel them vibrating in her bones. If Tabitha minds, she doesn’t show it, though. She’s curled up sound asleep on his stomach with a tiny fist stuffed in her mouth and a small puddle of drool forming on the Hulk plush pillowed under her cheek.
“JARVIS,” Darcy whispers. Not that she thinks speaking in a normal voice will actually wake them up, but that’s just the sort of thing people are supposed to do. If someone’s asleep, you get quieter. Those are the rules, and Darcy has enough of the fear of Coulson in her that she usually obeys them these days. (Well, at least technically. There are always loopholes.)
“Yes, Miss Lewis,” JARVIS answers in a similarly hushed voice, which Darcy takes as definitive proof that an AI counts as people.
“Can you take a picture of this?”
“Of course, Miss Lewis.”
“Awesome.” Darcy stifles a giggle when she notices the Thor doll Hulk has tucked into the crook of his arm. “And JARVIS?”
“Yes, Miss Lewis.”
“I’m going to need you to email that to everybody.”