Chapter Text
At first, Bruce thought it might have been like when Tony crept into his room sometimes. The guy was just looking for somewhere to sleep and since his own bed just wasn't doing it, he went to the next best thing. Maybe Natasha had nightmares too. Maybe she and Steve had worked out an agreement like he and Tony had- they'd share a bed, sometimes share space, and forget about it in the morning. But it kept happening. Bruce was nearly always awake unless he was just coming down from an episode and unless Tony needed him, he liked to spend the nights in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book and a cup of tea in hand, reading the night away.
The living room, as luck would have it, was in such a place that he could see down the main hallway from his position on the couch and he could therefore see each and every time Natasha crept into Steve's room late at night, always without making a single sound. She'd disappear into his room and not come back out until morning, always before everyone else woke up, never with Steve accompanying her. Whether or not she was aware of Bruce's presence (she probably was, let's face it), Natasha never said a word to him about it. He figured she knew he wouldn't say anything to anyone- it wasn't his place. But it was pretty clear after the ninth, tenth, eleventh time that there was something going on between them, and it didn't have anything to do with nightmares or needing platonic mutual comfort.
The only attempt Bruce made to try and see if he was nuts was with Tony. In the lab one day, they got into a discussion about who they would date on the team, if they had to pick someone (Tony's idea, and Bruce just kind of suffered through these kinds of conversations, usually), and Bruce saw his chance. “I think Natasha and Steve would make a very attractive couple,” he'd said casually, and Tony burst out laughing.
“The 100 year old virgin and the master of seduction? Yeah, Bruce. Bet they'd be real happy together.” Alright, fine. So maybe nobody else saw it, but Bruce did. He saw it in Natasha's nightly excursions to Steve's room, in the way their eyes might have lingered on each other for a moment too long during breakfast, in the way Steve always just lit up when she came into a room. Something was definitely going on. He just needed some kind of proof to put his mind at ease. The problem was that aside from the tiniest signs, Bruce saw nothing between them in public that would ever hint about a relationship between them.
Bruce got his confirmation about two months after the first time he saw her sneak into Steve's room, in the form of a huge fight they had in front of the rest of the team after a particularly tough battle with Loki. The trickster had been getting more and more ridiculous, causing more mischief than mayhem and leaving them to clean up elaborate messes, like when he'd turned an entire street downtown into huge scoops of ice cream, whipped cream, cherries and sprinkles too. If he hadn't already been labeled as bat-shit crazy, that would have sealed the deal for sure. With that said, this time he'd decided to align himself with Doctor Doom in a far more serious effort to take over the city and the Avengers, of course, were called to assemble.
While on the field and dodging bullets from Doom-Bots and their creator alike, along with blasts of energy from the ever-interesting god of mischief, Natasha found herself in a bit of a pickle. Taking down two bots, she'd weaved the wrong way and was knocked down, only to be greeted by Loki when she got back up. “Well, well,” he taunted. “If it isn't the little spider.” He was raising his hands as she quickly considered her options, but she didn't have the time to actually do anything because all of a sudden, there was a blue blur and Loki was being physically tackled to the ground. In the scuffle, Steve got in a few good hits before Loki vanished and reappeared behind him, kicking him hard in the stomach.
As he rolled away, teeth gritted in pain, Loki laughed down at him. “Is this love, Captain?” he asked, mimicking what he'd said to Natasha some time ago regarding Agent Barton and delivering another swift kick as bots came up behind him to distract Natasha. “You should think carefully about those whom you choose to risk your life for.” Steve spat something back at him and Loki went in for the kill, only stopped by a strong arm around his neck that pulled him away for one of his legendary fights with Thor. It wasn't until they all got back to the communal living room in the Tower that Natasha exploded, and Bruce actually gave her quite a lot of credit for not immediately chewing Steve out on the field in front of all the civilians slowly coming out of their hiding places.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked firmly, glaring up at him in such a way that Bruce and all the others kept completely silent. Steve clenched his jaw hard and Bruce could have sworn he heard every single knuckle crack when the soldier's hands clenched into fists a moment later.
He honestly looked like he was forcing himself to keep standing there instead of getting out of her way for a while and letting it all out on some punching bags. “You were in a compromised position,” he said as calmly as he could. “I was only trying to--”
“You nearly got yourself killed,” she interrupted. “And what good would that do anyone? We work as a team, Captain. If you can't remember that, then maybe you shouldn't be fighting with us anymore.”
The silence that fell over the whole room as she turned on her heel and stalked off with only a slight limp from the day's activities was deafening. “Hey, don't worry about it,” Tony remarked, clapping Steve on the shoulder and getting a visible twitch in response. “She probably won't kill you in your sleep or anything.” Bruce figured that the display, coupled with what he'd seen between them and what he'd seen of their nightly routine, confirmed his suspicions- Natasha and Steve were definitely 'together' in some sense of the word.
And so, Bruce decided to make it a little side project of his to watch how they interacted in public. Maybe there was some clue there as to what exactly the nature of their private relationship was. After another two months, two weeks and six days, he was about ready to give up because watching them in public was probably the most confusing thing he'd ever had to deal with, and that was saying a lot, especially considering how much time he spent with Tony.
The thing was that Steve was a pretty open book. He was a terrible liar, so Bruce was easily able to tell that he admired Natasha, perhaps as more than a friend or a companion on the field. More than once, he'd caught Steve looking between Natasha and his little sketchbook, probably focusing on the curls framing her face or the bold curves of her body. Bruce had also seen Steve light up like a neon sign at the sound of Natasha's voice or the sight of her smile, even when it wasn't directed at him. He looked like he was in love, but maybe that was just Bruce's perspective. And the whole idea was nearly disproved just a day or two after Bruce fully turned his observations to Natasha.
First of all, she probably knew he was watching her. No one just got one over on the Black Widow herself, so Bruce took into account that she probably took extra pains to make sure he only saw what she wanted him to see. But he figured that most of it was real anyway. She wouldn't change everything about her relationship with Steve just because someone was supposedly watching her for a reason she couldn't possibly know.
Second of all, she didn't act like she was in love. Hell, she didn't even act like she cared about him all that much. Bruce had actually watched Steve's smile fade, little by little, as Natasha sat on the couch and spoke to Clint, low and intimate, never once turning her eyes to the soldier. He'd watched Natasha make a comment about Steve in such a way that it sounded very much like an insult and he'd seen how Steve had to pick himself up after it, making a quiet joke in return before leaving the room.
Third of all, they almost never touched. On the field, Steve would act as a base for Natasha sometimes, using his shield as a springboard for her to get up somewhere or letting her swing around him for leverage to kick into an enemy's chest. But in the Tower? They didn't touch. Natasha would touch Clint's arm or even Bruce's hair sometimes, but she wouldn't touch Steve at all and Steve made no attempt to touch her either.
For two people supposedly in love and possibly having sex every night, they were remarkably controlled and strangely separate when in public, which made Bruce think that he was wrong and maybe they were just really good friends.. but even really good friends treated each other better than Natasha was treating Steve most of the time. Maybe they got off on it? As he watched Steve hopelessly try to get Natasha's attention while she was reading on the couch, he shook his head. No way. That just wasn't possible.
About six months after he'd first seen Natasha head into Steve's room in the dead of night, Bruce was about 99.8% sure that he'd never know what was going on between them. It was a mystery that no one else seemed to notice, though Loki did take advantage of what he'd seen that day more than one time after that. Maybe Bruce was bat-shit crazy too.
Honestly, no one expected anything to come of the battle against some psycho who'd created an alarmingly powerful energy source and wrangled that power into guns. They'd faced shit like that before and they'd come out on top, so they could do it again. Plus, the guy was just a man. He wasn't any kind of superhuman, just really intelligent. Perhaps they should have known better than to march in there like the risk was less than it really was.
It all happened in a flash. There were goons all over the streets of the Bronx, spreading out into Harlem and making themselves known when the Avengers were called in. They canvassed the streets- the Hulk and his ever present buddy, Iron Man, Clint and Natasha, Steve and Thor. After a long fight, they worked their way up to the edge of he island of Manhattan and were about to finish up when the warnings and instructions over their comm units were interrupted by Thor's deep voice.
“Steven is wounded. I'm taking him back to the Tower, and then I will rejoin you.”
It was succinct enough to be terrifying, but no one had time for questioning. Even when Thor returned to them, they were all fighting for their lives and it just wasn't the right time to ask him if Steve was okay, what had happened, if he was going to make it. Bruce wasn't even himself at the time and, when he shrank back down after they'd finally defeated their madman, Thor told him that Steve had been taken to the medical wing, that he was being taken care of. Well, that was up to Bruce to say, not Thor. He turned to Tony, and Tony picked him up to fly him back to the Tower immediately so he could personally take care of their captain.
As expected, it was worse than Thor made it out to be. Bruce scrubbed up and walked into the OR ready to find out exactly what was going on. Steve could make it out of almost anything, he hoped, but there were some things that just couldn't be repaired. He had massive internal damage; lacerations to his abdomen from a particularly bad blast meant that internal bleeding and a ruptured appendix were the least of their problems. His heart stopped twice while they had him on the table.
Weary and covered in the blood of his teammate, Bruce exited the room and immediately cleaned up, tossing his soiled gloves and mask and scrubs so he could walk out to the waiting room in clean scrubs to tell them the news. They were all waiting there; Thor, Tony, Clint, Natasha and Fury as well. He explained what the issues were, telling them in a grave tone that he was in critical condition, that he probably wouldn't wake up for a few days. To be honest, Bruce was pretty shaken himself. He'd never wanted to see Steve like that. To his relief, it was decided that they would take shifts sitting with him until he woke up, so he wouldn't wake up alone.
Thor volunteered to take the first shift because it had been on his watch that Steve was wounded. Stoic and serious, he made his way inside and sat down at the soldier's beside, falling asleep there after some time.
Tony was next. He talked a lot, mentally calculating various formulas and saying it all out loud just so Steve would have something to listen to, even if he figured the soldier hated the sound of his voice. Maybe it would wake him up, just so he could tell Tony to pipe the fuck down.
Bruce took the third shift and spent the first few minutes checking vitals and under bandages and so on, because he refused to accept anything other than perfect when it came to the care of his friends. After that, he sat at his beside and awkwardly read from a novel, letting his hand rest on top of Steve's.
Fury took the fourth and sat there in total silence the whole time, eyes flashing up every time one of the machines around Steve beeped or whirred like that was a sign he was waking up. He didn't.
Since Clint was sent out on another mission, Natasha would have been the one to take the next shift, but she was mysteriously absent and Thor said he would take it instead. It was appropriately under Thor's watch that Steve finally opened his eyes five days after he'd been wounded in the battle. Thor immediately rose to his feet, bringing the soldier water through a straw and letting the nurses know that he was up. Bruce came running, fussing over every bit of him again and Steve smiled tiredly, clearly still in some pain.
“Hey,” he breathed. “I've survived a lot worse than this.” Looking around at all the flowers and cards and gifts laying on his windowsill-- a teddy bear Thor bought in the gift shop, a massive arrangement of flowers from Tony, a potted plant from Bruce, a postcard from Clint-- he actually smiled again. “You guys are.. too good to me.”
Thor went on to explain that everyone had been there to see him- “Tony, Bruce, myself.. Clint is away on a mission, but he sends his best. And Director Fury was here to see you as well. Now that you're awake, I imagine you'll have quite the number of visitors.”
There was something in Steve's eyes that Bruce couldn't place, a kind of accepting sadness, but he did realize who was missing from that list. Natasha. She hadn't come to see him at all. After another thorough check, Bruce informed the rest of the team that Steve could have visitors and they all came again, one by one so he wasn't crowded. Tony sat and talked to him for a while, Clint visited as soon as he came back, Bruce checked in on him regularly as his attending physician and Thor returned to watch TV with him once he'd figured out how to get the channel he wanted on the set in the corner.
Another week went by and Natasha didn't show up. Bruce was getting a little frustrated with her, to be honest. She was one of them, one of the Avengers, a member of that team she'd reminded Steve he belonged to. How dare she not show up to see him? And they obviously had that thing going on, so she was even more in the wrong. But she didn't show. A combined total of twelve days had gone past and she hadn't shown her face at the hospital once beyond the first day in the waiting room, when Bruce had told them how Steve was doing.
That is, until late one night when Bruce was sitting in the little office he'd procured just across from the room he'd made sure Steve was staying in. He was relaxing, leaning back in his chair with his feet up and his head leaning back once Steve had insisted he go get sleep somewhere that wasn't his room. He was well enough to insist on stuff like that now, and he made his wishes very well known. But a flash of black caught Bruce's eye and he looked up, spotting red curls disappearing into Steve's room.
Frowning, Bruce got up and followed as quietly as he possibly could, creeping across the hall and just over to the door to Steve's room, which was made completely of glass. What he saw there was so raw and so honest that he felt like he should be looking away, but he wanted to understand. Natasha stood beside his bed, her back to the door, eyes seemingly on the wall behind his bed. She hesitated for a moment, but eventually placed her hand on top of the sleeping soldier's and stayed there, not moving a muscle. Until, of course, he opened his eyes. Bruce could see it- the way he lit up as soon as he recognized her, a wide smile spreading across his lips.
“Tasha...”
He didn't hear it, but he saw the word form on Steve's lips and knew how intimate it was. No one called her that except for Clint, and everyone knew how close they were. Natasha seemed to tense up, but Steve turned his hand to take hers in his, looking up at her with understanding clear in his eyes. When she did move, Bruce half expected her to either pull away or possibly smack him- she looked rather aggressive in there, after all. But that wasn't what she did.
Steve, with quite a bit of effort and quite a bit of pain, shifted over on the bed and Natasha crawled into it beside him, curling up and resting her head on his chest like she needed to hear his heartbeat to know he was still alive. Bruce could see Steve smile down at her, his big hand coming up to stroke her hair while she closed her eyes and hid her face in the clean, warm material of the blanket laying over him.
“Hey, it's okay,” Bruce saw him say to her. “I'm okay.”
When Natasha shifted to lean up and press their lips together, her hand resting on his jaw, Bruce knew he'd overstayed his welcome. He moved away from the door and returned to his office, only realizing that he was smiling when he sat down at his desk again. Maybe they didn't act like a couple and maybe they had a long road ahead of them before both of them were ready to let everyone know about their relationship, but he had no doubt that Steve and Natasha would be very happy together when that time came.