Chapter Text
Knock, knock, knock.
He stood up, surprised, from the small round table in his small kitchen, where he ate breakfast every morning. His chair screeched away from the table as he stood up, and he cursed under his breath realizing whoever was at his door now knew he was inside. There was no way he could pretend he wasn’t home now, the chair was loud enough that the person outside heard it, unless, of course, that person was deaf.
Knock, knock, knock.
He cursed again. Not deaf.
Bruce Banner rarely got any visitors, which was why the knocking startled him. Especially that early in the morning. He lived in a small apartment building in Cincinnati. It was cold and dark there, and everything in that building was in serious need of renovation, but it was private and affordable, and that was enough for Bruce. One bedroom. One bathroom. A living room/kitchen. This was what he came home to every night after his janitor shift at the small Hospital down the street. This was home. Home used to be somewhere else, it used to mean something else, but not anymore. This was it. After Ultron and every horrible thing that followed, he came here.
Bruce thought no one would ever be able to find him, he thought no one would ever see The Hulk again, and he thought he could live a quiet life, away from people who could recognize him, away from The Avengers, but, boy, was he wrong. Because what comes next… well, lets just say, Bruce doesn’t make it to work that night, or the night after that, or the night after that. He was too busy doing something more important.
He walked slowly to the door. A click came from it as soon as he hesitantly unlocked it. He placed his hand on the knob and hesitated again before turning it slowly. He pulled it open just a little and looked out. Once he saw who was outside, though, he scoffed and opened it wider.
They spent a few minutes staring at each other. He was dumbfounded, she was patiently waiting. What for, he didn’t know, neither do I, and I’m not sure even she knew.
After those few minutes past, he shook his head in disbelief. “How?” he asked, not to anyone in particular, he just asked. I don’t think he was expecting an answer in return, not a real one. I think he was expecting a “It’s classified” or a lie like “I don’t know.” But a lie is not what he got. He waited, staring at the floor.
“Last year,”she started in a husky voice. He looked up at her in shock of receiving an actual response, one that was hers, one no one told her to say, one that was truth. She continued, “Last year, when we were planing our escape, we discussed where we would go after the fight was over. You mentioned something about growing up here, in Cincinnati. So, after you left, it was easy enough to track you down. I knew you would be here, out of anywhere in the world, out of anywhere we considered going, I knew you would be here.”
“That easy, huh?” he scoffed.
“I know you, Bruce. Just like you know me.”
“You’re right, Natasha, I do know you. So I guess it’s safe to assume this whole place is surrounded?”
She shook her head. “No one knows I’m here, no one knows I’ve come looking for you.”
“Just you and me?” he asked questionably, and almost sarcastically.
“Just you and me,” she confirmed.
“It’s funny you expect me to believe that.”
“I’m sorry you don’t trust me anymore,” Natasha said sadly, “but we need you to come in.”
Bruce chuckled. “You’re crazy if you think I’m coming back to you people. Look! I’m finally at peace. No one to bother me, no one to get me angry.” He sighed happily. “I’m home.”
“No you’re not. This is not your home. This is a home for someone else, someone without our problems!” she tried to explain.
“Someone normal?” he challenged.
She sighed. “Can I come inside?” she stepped forward and into the small space before Bruce could stop her.
“No! No. Look, it’s nice to see you and all, but I think I’m gonna decline that offer of yours and stay.” He gestured for her to leave, but Natasha stayed and took a look around instead. She stepped onto the white tile of the kitchen and toward the refrigerator. “Natasha!” he said, nagging. He left the front door open while he jogged into the kitchen.
She opened the door to the refrigerator and looked inside. He tried closing it but she wouldn’t get out of the way. “Beer!?” she criticized, finding only a half-full case of beer. “What do you eat?” She moved the case out of the way and behind it found a loaf of bread and a container of butter. “Oh. Well, at least it’s better than beer for breakfast,” she said, taking out the bread and butter and placing them on the table. “I’m starving, long flight.”
“Wait, wait, Natasha.”
“Yeah?,” she asked, opening the bag of sliced bread.
“How long have you known I’ve been here?”
At first she ignored the question, she too busy plugging in his toaster that sat on the counter in the kitchen. When she was done she turned to him. She sighed. “I’ve known since you left.”
“Since I left!?”
She took a slice of bread from the bag and popped it in the toaster, then turned it on. She turned to face him. “Yeah. So what’s the big deal?”
“Nothing. Just… why now?”
She sighed and glanced around the room, then looked back at him. “It’s like I said, we need you to come in.”
“Who? Who needs me? The last time I checked Tony and Rodgers had some sort of falling out. Is there even a ‘we’ anymore?”
She thought for a minute. “No. I guess not. All there is, is Stark’s team, Steve’s team, and the bigger picture.”
“Okay, I- I’m confused, what’s the ‘bigger picture’ here?” he asked, puzzled.
“Thanos.”
“What in the hell is a ‘Thanos’?”
Ding. The toast popped up.