Bruce Banner/The Hulk
Tony waved the hat in front of you, his face expectant. You crossed your arms, not wanting to participate.
"Come now, don't be shy," he smirked. "What is the probability of you having some fun tonight?"
"Umm, let me think," you contemplated sarcastically. "Zero out of five?"
"Ouch," said Clint. Natasha rolled her eyes.
Tony just sniggered. "I believe that is solely theoretical probability. Why not go for experimental?" he said. Eyebrows raised, you blushed a little. You sighed and gave in, as it was not worth the effort to resist. You closed your eyes and swished your hand around the folded pieces of paper. You plucked up the second one you touched. Opening your eyes, you unfolded the paper and read the color. "Green?" you asked quizzically, not quite sure who it referred to. Clint whistled, and Bruce was gently nudged next to you. He glanced at you uneasily, then at Tony. "I really don't think this is a good idea," he said. You blinked in disappointment, but brushed it away.
"Oh, come on Bruce," whined Clint. "You know you want to--"
"It's okay if you don't want to play, Bruce," you interrupted. "I don't mind," you smiled in fake reassurance. Of course you minded -- you really wanted to finally get some alone time with the man who was always so calm and collected, who always helped other people, and was so inconceivably nice and brilliant. Out of everybody here, he was the one who you hoped to get closer to. But, it was his choice, and you respected that.You looked at your feet, your long hair hiding your face, and waited for someone else to pick a name out of the hat.
Tony pursed his lips, then whispered something into Bruce's ear. Bruce sighed in defeat, nodding. Next thing you knew, you were guided (more like shoved) into a room with Bruce. You turned around to see the door click shut and lock. Confusion caused your eyebrows to furrow. "45 minutes!" called a voice from behind the door, and chuckles came from the living room. You rolled your eyes at the door, forcing a little laugh out of your lungs as you turned around to face him.
"So," he began, "I didn't quite catch what the goal of this whole game was. Do you know?" he asked, meeting your eyes.
"Yeah, sort of," you replied, blushing. "Supposedly if you lock two people up in a closet for 45 minutes, then they can have all sorts of 'fun', as Tony described it."
"Did he now," he said, chuckling. He sighed mid-laugh and his face went somber again. You looked away from his grimace, trying to figure out what was wrong. He obviously did not want to be here.
"I-I can pick the lock, if you want," you offered, taking out one of the bobby pins from your hair. "Then we can get out of here. If you don't want to play this game, that is. With me."
Bruce looked up at you in surprise. "Of course I want to play." He acknowledged your look of confusion and sighed. He sat down on the floor cross-legged, and gestured to the empty space next to him. Still confused, you sat next to him. You were intrigued by the inner turmoil that was displayed on his face and sat patiently. He turned his head to look at you, and something in your face must have convinced him, because he began to speak.
"_______, I want to tell you something. You know about
the 'other guy', right?" Your eyes widened, and you mentally gasped, sensing the importance of this moment. You always thought that he was hiding something from you. Something that he wasn't proud of.
sort of," you confessed. The description of the 'other guy' given to you was very vague. All you knew was that it was very important to stay on his good side -- almost a matter of life and death, the way Natasha described it. You could tell by the absolute fear that flashed through her eyes. And there were very few things that Natasha were afraid of. 'The other guy' happened to be one of them.
You weren't convinced, however. The idea of Bruce getting horribly angry did not sink in very well. How could this composed and reserved man have the capability to turn so violent? You met his eyes and searched for any ounce of hatred in that kind, handsome face of his. You find none, just like you always had. You smiled. He looked at you quizzically, then laughed nervously.
"You don't believe he exists," he said, matter-of-factly. He faced the wall, almost talking to himself. "How could you? You're far too kind and pure to notice
funny, but I don't think you've ever seen the other guy, not even for a second." he turned to look at you, his face serious. "I don't think I could ever be angry around you, ______. I love you too much for that." His eyes searched your face, gauging your reaction. The tears surprised both of you, but you were so touched that it couldn't be helped. He turned away, hiding his head in his hands. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his face.
I'm so sorry. I didn't mean
God, me and my big mouth!" His breathing increased, and he shook. Alarmed, you scooted closer to him. You gently placed an arm around him, and cradled his head on your shoulder with the other. You rubbed circles into his back and stroked his head.
I love you too, Bruce," you whispered. His shaking stopped, and his breathing returned to normal. He slowly looked up, his eyes full of love and wonder. You smiled lovingly at him, your hand coming down to stroke his face like you had always imagined. Your faces came together, and you closed your eyes as your lips met.
It was slow and passionate at first, savoring the taste of his soft lips, winding your hands through his dark curly hair. His hands were at your shoulders, but began to inch their way down your back. Daring yourself to be adventurous, you flicked your tongue out between your lips. He grinned and nibbled on your lower lip in response. You moaned, smiling back. Carefully, he lowered you to the ground, still entwined. Your breathing became faster as the kiss grew more intense. You pulled at his hair harder, bringing him even closer to you. He snarled, his tongue entering your mouth. His breath was hot and made you feel dizzy.
Your mouths finally broke apart, breathing hard. He brushed your skin with kisses, trailing down all the way to the base of your neck where he lingered. You sighed, his tongue tickling your skin. You moved your hands downward while he was doing this, across his back and to he hem of his shirt. Your fingers slipped under the fabric and teased at his skin. He looked up, his eyes full of want. You smirked, and sat up. You helped the shirt over his head and resumed kissing. You traced his spine with your finger tips, sending shudders up his back. He cupped your face, his hands gentle.
There was a soft click, and then the door burst open. "See, I told you Bruce was too chicken--" Clint stopped in his tracks, his mouth open. You blushed at his gaping stare, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.
"Ah, I see that you owe me some of that green paper, Mortal," chuckled Thor. You could feel Bruce tightening up beside you, his jaw clenched. A growl started to thrum from his chest, his fists clenching tightly around the fabric of your shirt. Clint began to back away, his face turning pale. Tension filled the air with electricity, the atmosphere dangerous. You swore his skin turned a slight greenish hue. "Bruce?" you croaked, concern threatening to cause panic. His head snapped towards you, his eyes meeting yours. He deflated. His fists unclenched, his face relaxed, and his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and hugged you closer, happy to have you near. You hugged him back, sighing on his shoulder.
Clint snuck his way out of the room, breathing in relief. He couldn't believe that he had gotten out of that alive. Something about her, he concluded, kept the other guy deeply buried. Something about her made the more human side of Bruce, the more compassionate side, want to stay.