Tony — who’s basically Bruce’s work husband, though the honor of godfather (if you do that type of thing) is definitely split between him and Doc Samnson — pays for your baby shower. He butts heads with your people all the while on design choices and venue arrangements, but everyone ends up oddly amicable by the end to your marginal horror.

Tony 100% gifts you a plush set of famous scientists that he had commissioned for Bruce’s kid. Secretly, so he doesn’t risk pissing Bruce off during the party, he hands you a Hulk plushie after the baby shower to utilize at your own discretion too.

The Hulk plushie ends up being the one you keep closest, and the baby loves it once they're born to boot— doesn’t matter how much Bruce waves the small plush made in Henry T. Sampson‘s likeness in their cute chubby little face and tells them all about his scientific contributions.

Bruce helps you pump your breast milk and does the work of setting you up on a schedule and will positively glower at anyone who gives you shit about breastfeeding (or not breastfeeding), especially when y’all are in public.

The man goes with you to every single appointment without fail, and won’t miss your kid’s checkups after they’re born short of the world ending either.

Quite frankly, Bruce hardly ever misses your checkups or doctor appointments outside of when you’re pregnant either. The negligence of black women when it comes to their medical needs is too real for him to leave you alone and stressed like that.

HOWEVER, if Bruce can’t come he sends Rick with you, and the younger man has even less chill than Bruce when it comes to your concerns being undermined or you being unfairly profiled in the hospital.

“No, she’s not ‘drug seeking’. Fuck off, Man. Don’t you know how to do your job? She’s in pain!” & “I’m clearly not the one who’s pregnant, Doc. You should be talking to her, not me. Jesus.” & “What kind of nurse are you?”

“Doctor Dumbass” is his favorite insult to mutter under his breath to you, and it is too often an apt one. At least Rick’s a riot to be around, though!

And, frankly, he makes it so the doctors and nurses want to talk to you more— even if it’s just so they don’t have to deal with him.

Bruce doesn’t find you less attractive when you’re pregnant, he gushes over you and compliments you just the same as before your pregnancy. Depending on your libido he’ll make love to you just the same too, perfectly accommodating whatever size your stomach is at the time and making sure to keep you hydrated and comfortable the whole time he’s making your toes curl.

This man also 100% pre packs your hospital bag— and he does it with the same intensity and severity he used to pack his go-bags when he was on the run.

Probably brings in Betty to help convince you that wearing adult diapers after birth are a good idea because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable while he stumbles over pitching the idea; not wanting to seem pushy. He didn’t need to worry, but you appreciate the consideration as you and Betty exchange amused looks and hold back laughter at how nervous he is.

When it’s done you peck him on the tip of his nose, tell him it’s no problem and that you think the research he presented you with was a nice touch even if you didn’t need it to agree with him, and Bruce blushes the whole while like you're not literally pregnant with his child.

Bruce becomes easier to trigger than before — it’s not by too wide a margin because Bruce has worked hard to control his stress levels, but still. When you’re pregnant, Bruce gets steadily more on board with letting Hulk out to deal with certain problems. He will do anything to keep you and your baby safe.

By all means due to Bruce’s easier to trigger temper reminding him of your stress levels needing to stay stable and of the baby are the only things that can quickly get him to calm down and make Hulk draw away from the surface. Getting that green tint at the corner of Bruce’s eyes to go back to their usual alabaster and the green veins crawling up Bruce’s neck to recede as you talk both of your guys down.

Bruce calms down the second you put his hand(s) on your pregnant stomach, and don’t let him feel the baby kick or pressing themselves into one corner of your womb because he will melt. The feel of your kid and the soft cadence of your voice helps ground him like few other things can.

Bruce absolutely goes to your physical therapy and pregnant exercise classes with you. He’s got enough control of his body that it honestly impresses the instructor, and he has to regularly wave off other pregnant attendees gushing about how spectacular he already is at being a dad when all he’s doing is supporting you (and by proxy y’all’s baby).

Also, Tony absolutely offers to pay for your hospital stay when you give birth. Bruce blusters about it — having already been taking more jobs for S.H.I.E.L.D specifically to put aside extra funds for hospital expenses alone — but ultimately Tony calls “godfather rights” and you don’t argue, so Tony’s allowed to help (in moderation).

Allowing Tony free range to execute everything would lead to him doing a little too much, frankly. Things need to be vetoed and shit.

Hulk is so careful with you — even more than he usually is with you, of course. He tends to freeze when faced with the challenge of gently picking you up all nine months of your pregnancy and point blank refuses to get anywhere near the baby for a few weeks after they’re born no matter how controlled the environment.

Honestly, though, the first time Hulk comes out around the baby things go down akin to if a particularly big dog went lunging teeth first for your child only to end up using their teeth to gently grab the back of their diaper to keep them from falling.

—

Bruce “hulks out” in response to a particularly serious wail your baby lets out while you two are introducing them to everyone at Avengers Mansion, and in the next second Hulk’s in his place and already dashing towards the source of your child’s voice.

Everyone, bar you yourself, screams bloody murder, but for your part you’re willing to take Hulk’s appearance for what it is and were already getting up yourself to check out what was going on anyway.

Why not let Hulk handle things, especially when you were recovering from the trauma pregnancy and birth put onto your body? There’s a giant pad with an aloe concoction slathered all over it pressed to your front and back holes and helping you heal, you were not running not one goddamn where.

You just follow after Big Green, yelling at him to ‘go easy on them’ and make your way up to where you know Rick, Clint and Thor have your baby at your own pace.

When you finally do make it to the kitchen you find a jar of baby food shattered and splattered along the floor and wall (squash based— figures), a toppled over high chair, and Rick laughing his ass off while cradling your child (who’s still too young for anything but breast milk and formula) to his chest and being held by Hulk his own self.

Hulk, on the other hand, is growling at Thor and a cowering Clint who’s backed himself into the corner behind the God of Thunder. The Archer apologizing profusely while Thor attempts to placate your Jade Giant with his palms up and booming voice as low as it typically goes.

—

Anytime Hulk’s around and sees you trying to do anything too extraneous postpartum he promptly swoops you up as delicately as he can manage (which is significantly so) and puts you right back on the bed or couch. Hulk then does his best to fumble through getting whatever you were trying to get himself or actively cedes control to Bruce, regardless of if it’s his time to be out, so he can do it for you instead.

Bruce heavily approves of Hulk doing this and can’t not say it doesn’t endear the Big Guy to him more.

Bruce helps you through any postpartum struggles that you have 100%. Keeps an eye out for signs of depression and you not connecting to the baby, takes the baby off your hands plenty of times without you asking, helps you with keeping your image of your body post-birth as positive as he can, would never in his life think to ask for sex until you're ready and fully healed, etc.

To the best of his ability Bruce is going to make sure no resentment festers in your little family unit. He’s lived with a jealous abusive parent, and while he obviously doesn’t think you’ll turn out like his shit stain of a father, he is still on top of your mental health. Making sure you’re not feeling left behind or ignored as you bring a new life into the world.

Every one of the Avengers and Bruce’s friends definitely shows up for you guys’ little family too.

Also, I want to make one thing very clear. If you get pregnant on accident and you don’t want that baby Bruce will, come hell or high water, do everything in his power to make sure you don’t go anywhere close to coming to term with that fucking embryo. If you want an abortion, it’s done; no trying to talk you out of your decision outside of him making sure you’re comfortable with it.

Bruce loves you, and you are his #1 priority outside of keeping himself and Hulk in check, he will do anything for you. If he gets to be selfish about one thing, it’s you.

Plus, Bruce as a character is one who both knows the negative ramifications of bringing a baby into his world, let alone a human baby, and one who’s long since come to terms with not having children.

He’d rather shoot himself in the head again than fix his mouth to guilt you for wanting an abortion, a procedure that you have every bodily right to as an actual living being weeks before your pregnancy is even far along enough for there to be an actual fucking baby developing in your womb.

Now, any real arguments come if you catch the pregnancy late and don’t want to keep the baby. Or be in their life. Because Bruce will want to be to some degree, even as he struggles over feeling (knowing) that his presence alone in his child’s life could ruin everything for them.

Bruce also stays — to an obsessive degree; yes, you do pull him aside for an intense conversation — quite aware of his own potential pitfalls as a parent. On top of his fears of turning into the type of partner his father was to his mother to you, he’s now deathly afraid of turning into the type of father he grew up with too.

Dialing back on missions and the occasional counseling visits help, but this is a constant work in progress.

Bruce likes to match with the baby. His dorky ass— it amuses him to no end. Alternatively, the baby also has a Hulk onesie (and no matter how much he clicks his tongue it is frequently worn, and even he can’t deny how cute his kid looks in it).

At least once after a particularly grueling mission that Hulk had to be present for, you find Hulk hunkered in on himself sitting inside of the nursery (actively designed to be big enough to house him— or a potentially hulked out baby) with big fat tears in his eyes as he talks lowly to you child.

Past the slight heart attack just seeing him elicits, you let him keep at it. Supervising (and offering your own comfort) until he’s calm enough to turn back into a harried, frustrated Bruce.

Yes you do take a video of his low rumbles of words and the baby’s responding coos. At how your little bundle of joy reaches, unafraid, for Hulk and how unerringly careful he is around them in turn.

Rick starts to cry, and tries hiding it (poorly. over the phone.), at the cuteness overload.

Bruce doesn’t say it, but you know that how well Hulk keeps himself together around your kid, and how much your child doesn’t fear him (especially as an extension of Bruce), helps. For as long as Bruce can remember he’s feared himself, he’s happy for the reprieve. Unfamiliar as it is.

Also, speaking of hulked-out babies. Bruce, Tony, and even Reed Richards if they can hack it, all go over the baby before you’ve even given birth. Bruce checks your radiation levels constantly, and is stressed about your body rejecting the pregnancy and you getting sick all nine months.

These worries do not go away after you give birth, and they’re so not unfounded that you only latch onto him (giving him your support) and let him prod at you and your child without complaint.

It helps that he’s so apologetic while he runs tests too. Pressing kisses all over your face and never straying far from the baby. Bruce talks you through every single move he makes, even as a lot of it flies over your head, and doesn’t make a decision until you understand and can properly approve.

Yes, while his kid isn’t going to develop DID through genetics, they can still develop a hulk form, and Bruce stews in guilt over the possibility.

Trust, you two will work with your baby if they turn out to be a mutate though. Nothing short of death is stopping you from being the best parents you can be, and even then you’d both contest Lady Death herself.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!

I have never in my life (especially as someone who does not want kids) been like “I want to get pregnant with *insert character’s* baby”, but bitch here we are. I don’t know what this man is doing to me.

Editing Trixie — Can confirm that I was ovulating the week I started this, so that was the ovulation speaking, but I started my period and got some chocolate and now I’m myself again.

Anyway, let’s live in a dream world where our reproductive rights aren’t under fire for a bit with this one.

In every way that mattered, your life had improved immeasurably since you and Bruce had started dating. You already had a friendship, a connection, and you couldn’t believe how easy the two of you just fit. 

It was still early days though - you had your shifts, and when Bruce, or rather the Hulk, wasn’t off saving the world with the other Avengers, he had his research and other interests.You didn’t want to live in each others pockets, but still made the effort to see each other at least three times a week, and spoke on the phone all the other days.

You’d introduced him to your small circle of friends, and none of them realised who he actually was, aside from being a sweet nerd who’d swept you off your feet. It was the one advantage of having two personas, you supposed - it meant that he could maintain privacy when out and about.

In return, Bruce had invited you to come and meet the other Avengers. He’d done that charming thing of coming over all shy, asking you while cleaning his glasses with his shirt, so that he wouldn’t have to look at you and risk rejection.

“I mean, you only have to come if you want to. I don’t want you to be disappointed or overwhelmed, because they can be a handful. Tony will tease me… and flirt with you, Steve’s actually got a filthy potty mouth, Nat can be pretty intimidating, Thor, when he’s here, is loud and Clint… well… he’s got a specific sense of humour.”

You’d reached out and placed your hand on his arm, and he’d put his glasses back on and looked at you, expression unreadable.

“I’d love to meet them, and not because they’re the Avengers, but because they’re your friends and colleagues.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

You’d shifted closer, cupping his face with your hand and brushing your nose against his.

“Certain.”

They’d been everything Bruce had described and more, but you’d won them over, and now had your own Avengers Tower access clearance. Sometimes you and Bruce met up there, especially if he was working late, or had been on a mission. It was also the best space for you to hang out with Hulk. The green giant was actually a massive cuddle bug, and enjoyed lounging in his/Bruce’s room, watching Disney movies with you while eating insane amounts of popcorn and candy. 

At first, Bruce had been reticent about letting you spend time with his other persona, but you’d convinced him that you would be fine. You knew almost from the first moment that you’d met him that you and Hulk would be friends, because he and Bruce were two sides of the same coin - he would never hurt you.

Now, so far in your relationship, it had all been sunshine and roses - well, apart from that night, but considering what it had led to, you couldn’t be too upset - you and Bruce having cute dates, sweet kisses and lots of laughter.  As you got off the subway you hoped that he’d be able to manage something different, and you didn’t mean intimacy. Well, that would be nice, but also, you were content to wait until it felt right for both of you. What you did need today was comfort, because it had been A Day TM (a really shitty day) because even the best relationship could improve what it was like to work in a retail job.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t used to asshole customers - you had to usually deal with one or two every day, but today! It was like they’d all held a meeting and decided to show up at the same time and be meaner and more horrible than normal - asking for complex drinks that made no sense, then telling you that you’d done it wrong, when you’d actually triple checked with them before starting.

Walking up to the front entrance of the tower you fanned your face, trying to disperse the tears that threatened to fall from just thinking about it. You wouldn’t let them bring you down!

Striding into the building, you flashed your access card to the security guard before swiping it at the executive elevator. You were glad that you’d be able to travel straight to Bruce’s floor. He wasn’t expecting you at this time, but one of your colleagues had owed you, so you’d ended your shift a couple of hours early and made your way straight here. Hopefully you’d be able to hang out in his room while he finished up his work for the day. Or maybe you could keep him company in the lab if you signed some kind of NDA.  

You could feel yourself spiralling and you swallowed back a small cry, turning it into a hiccup as the elevator came to a halt and you virtually stumbled out into Bruce’s living room…

… to be met with the sight of Hulk, sitting on the floor, worry beads around his neck, watching Lilo and Stitch.

His face broke into a broad smile when he saw you, and he clambered to his feet as quickly as he could.

“Pretty Girl!” He turned and looked at the clock and then back at you. “Pretty Girl early!”

You bit your lip and nodded. Despite your mood, a small smile played at the edges of your mouth.

“Uh-huh. I just needed to see you… or Bruce.”

Hulk looked at you for a moment, and blinked. “Pretty Girl okay that Hulk here, not Bruce?”

You nodded, his earnestness and innocence threatening to destroy the last of your control. You took a step towards him, followed by a second and then you were throwing yourself into his arms, pressing your face against his chest and letting the tears of frustration flow.

Slowly, Hulk wrapped his arms around you, and you noticed he was a little unsure.

“Pretty Girl sad. Did bad man come back and try hurt you?”

You lifted your head, and sniffed with a little smile. “No. Nothing like that. Just a bad day at work.”

You eased out of his hold so you could drop your purse and take your coat off.

“How Hulk help? Want Hulk smash?”

He was too sweet. It was tempting.

“No. No smashing. Just be you, buddy. Sit back down and I’ll join you - we can finish watching together. I just need some cuddles.”

He let out a light snort and lumbered back over to his pile of cushions, dropping down heavily. You knew that Tony had had this floor reinforced, but you were still astounded when the floor didn’t shake. Once he appeared comfortable you joined him, climbing up into his lap and pressing into his side. He was so warm!

You watched in silence together for 10 minutes or so, both of you letting out the odd bark of laughter at the antics of Lilo and her extraterrestrial friend. You could feel yourself calming down just through this - being here and being cared for, with no expectation, something that previous boyfriends had never given you.

You were glad you had Bruce, and Hulk. Which brought you back to why the latter was here.

“Hey, Big Guy. Any reason you’re out today? Was there a mission, because I know Bruce had a load of scientific stuff to do today.”

You felt his body stiffen under you.

“No mission. No smash. Stark happen.”

You sighed - it stood to reason.

“Did he frighten Bruce again?”

He let out a resigned huff.

“Wanted to know what makes Hulk appear. Now Hulk not want to go back. Hulk come here, home. Watch movies, try to be calm.”

You rose up on your knees and pressed your palm to his cheek, feeling him lean into it gently.

“So you’ve had a bad day too? I’m sorry. What about if I get some more snacks and you pick another movie. How does that sound?”

“Hulk like snacks. Hulk like movies. Hulk love Pretty Girl.”

You dropped a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Love you too, Big Guy.”

You got up, and went to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards for enough snacks to keep Hulk sated. You smiled to yourself as you heard him talking to FRIDAY, picking the next thing you were going to watch. Snacks and drinks obtained you took your place, back on his lap.

The opening credits played and you smiled - the Little Mermaid.

“You know, if you ever have this problem again, ask FRIDAY to call me. I’m more than happy to help cheer you up. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes. Hulk and Pretty Girl best friends.”

You both settled down then to watch Ariel fight for her true love. Hulk kept an arm around you, holding you close, but without squashing you, and every so often you ran your hand up and down his arm or scratched your fingers into his black hair, quietly soothing him.

About 10 minutes from the end, Hulk started to fidget and shift under you. You got up and watched as he slowly shrank, and his skin returned to pink. Bruce looked up at you, slightly chagrined, from the pillow nest on the floor. “Hey.”

You smiled and sat back down next to him, wrapping your arms around one of his and leaning your head on his shoulder. “Hey, yourself. Feeling better?”

“Absolutely.” Bruce leant over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “And you? Sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

“Not your fault. And I’m sure there will be another day with a-hole customers. I’m also certain that Tony won’t frighten Hulk out of you again.”

Bruce chuckled. “You give him more credit than he’s due. Although he might not try it again for a while - the Other Guy smashed up his new Porsche…”

You couldn’t help it - you laughed out loud, cuddling into your boyfriend, and realising that life wasn’t so bad after all.

• Bruce is the best boyfriend you've had, even with the Hulk, even with the totally insane hours he pulls in the lab with Tony. Bruce is kind, understanding and thoughtful to the point where the others come to him for advice on their relationships.

• The first time he brings you an extravagant gift, you blush and stammer and have no clue what to do with it. He travels often, mostly together with Tony, so you're about 99% percent sure that the undoubtedly incredibly expensive jewelry set with your favourite gemstones is Tony's handiwork: Bruce just doesn't seem to be the type to throw money at people.

• But it happens again. And again. All-inclusive spa day at one of the best of New York wellness centers after you off-handedly complain about a sore back, a Stark prototype laptop that isn't even available to the public yet after your old one overheats... The list goes on and on. Each time, you're torn between giddily jumping up and down and refusing to accept the expensive items.

• "Do you like it, baby?" His smile is fond and a little bit amused as you open his newest gift with eyes as wide as saucers. The tone of his voice is perfectly innocent; he's looking up at you with those puppy eyes of his and you don't know whether to cry or start taking off your clothes.

• "Dear God, that must've cost an arm and a leg," You mutter absentmindedly, staring in awe at a set of keys for a car. It's an Audi, that much you can deduce, and the key fob looks brand new. "You really didn't have to, honey. I can take the subway..." You trail off, genuinely speechless.

• "You don't like it?" His face falls before you can interject. "I thought... You're always admiring Tony's cars, so I thought you'd like an Audi. We can get you something else," Bruce removes his glasses to fiddle with them, just like every time he's nervous.

• "What?! No, I love it!" You stop your boyfriend from descending further into a self-deprecation hole. "I'm just... You don't have to... There's no need to buy me things for me to love you, okay? Gifts or no gifts, I love you." You reassure him, wrapping your arms around his stiff torso.

• "I'm not... Is that what you think it is?" He asks, a little bit panicky. "I'm not trying to buy you, baby. I just want you to have all the best, okay? Because I love you," He's hyperventilating a little and you can't help but think how much the two of you are alike. The insecurity that gnaws at your chest slowly begins to recede.

• "I'm not used to being... Treated like that," You admit shyly. Most of your exes could barely remember your birthday, much less spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on you just because. Your family wasn't exactly filthy rich either.

• Bruce's warm, gentle hands wrap around your face, bringing your eyes to meet his. "I didn't have much growing up, so... I know how it feels to want things and not be able to have them. I thought you might feel the same way." Bruce is empathetic in a way you usually do not expect from men in general. A mild disbelief sets in.

• Blinking a few times to get rid of the daze, you bring your lips to his to share a slow, sweet kiss. The box with the car keys is forgotten as you get lost in one another, soft sighs and gentle lips moving against each other. His curls are fluffy and soft in your hands.

• "I don't know what iv the done to deserve you," You mumble, overwhelmed, feeling tears begin to pool in the corners of your eyes. "Or how can I ever repay you..." You struggle to vocalize your feelings.

• Bruce chuckles, ensnaring you in his arms and placing his chin atop your head, back to being his normal happy self. "You can come to the next conference with me. You've always wanted to go to Europe. We can get the room next to Tony's and annoy him at night..." He trails off, showing that little spark of mischief that is reserved exclusively for you.

• You laugh and pinch his butt gently, ignoring the pitched shriek he lets out. "Someone's feeling bold, doctor Banner!"

      "Oh no, that’s no problem, I understand your reasons. I just hope you understand mine too." He nodded right away.       "I do." Not needing a second to think about her intentions, Laussa kept talking.         "And I’m here now, I’ll help you out where I can, though I hope you understand the Bifrost is my priority." Tony nodded again, a little smile on his lips.       "Of course, I understand… Thanks."

      She nodded back, following him as they turned another corner, being greeted by some suspicious clanking noises.

      "Banner? You have company."

      Laussa turned her head in the direction of the clattering, where promptly, Bruce Banner popped up from behind an untidy metal desk. He looked normal if a bit dishevelled, and she immediately let her eyes drift back down to his neck, which looked completely normal again now.       Relieved, she smiled at him, and he smiled back shyly, lifting his hand in a quick wave, before occupying himself again with whatever he was working on.

      Tony turned away from him, gesturing into the other direction.       "We have a desk for you, if you want, a work station. Vision mentioned you’re a doctor?" Laussa nodded, smiling at him hesitantly.       "I am… I really appreciate it, Mr. Stark."       "Oh please, call me Tony."       Out of the corner of her eye, Laussa saw Bruce roll his eyes in annoyance at Tony’s words and she had to suppress a burst of laughter, thankfully staying unnoticed by Tony. Bruce did notice, however, meeting her eyes with embarrassment for his obvious reaction, but she only gave him another heartwarming smile, then turning the corner, following Tony to the area, that was to be hers.

      The 'desk’ was big, and, by normal people, would have probably been considered several desks arranged in almost a complete circle, completely adorned with holographic screens the whole way. In the middle was another table, almost like a kitchen isle, that looked almost exactly like the experimentation table she’d had in her own lab, complete with all of her equipment? She turned around to Stark in confusion.       "Thor might have told us what you could need." He said, his the corners of his mouth twitching up in amusement about her confused expression.       "Well… thank you very much! I had no idea he ever paid any attention to - "

      "Mr. Stark." Friday’s monotone voice broke through the calm aura of the lab, making Tony turn towards the speakers on the ceiling. "Director Fury requests your presence in the video conference room." He shook his head in mild annoyance and walked her back over to Bruce’s desk quickly.       "Sorry kids, I have to bail on this. Banner, can you show her around?"

      Banner once again popped up from behind the table, now holding a couple of cables that he quickly put down to brush his hair out of his face as he nodded nicely.

▪

      They were casually strolling through the rows and rows of impressive machinery, ranging from almost an entire floor of the building dedicated to engineering to corners filled with incredibly specific equipment for other fields of science as Laussa listened to Bruce’s impressive scientific explanations.

      After he’d explained some of the uses for the contraptions back on the floor his and Laussa’s workspaces were on, they turned another corner, he twisted his head towards her, his eyes roaming over her for a second, before he spoke.       "So, what is your speciality?" His voice was inquisitive, he sounded genuinely interested in her, but it still caught her off guard.       "Sorry?" Laussa turned her head towards him, his fluffy dark curls falling deeper into his face as he looked down to the floor.       "Your PhD, what is it in?"       "Oh…medicine." He looked at her then, his bright brown eyes filled with confusion.       "I thought Thor mentioned you studied botany?"       "That too, I… I have a couple of PhDs. Medicine, Psychology, Neurobiology and Botany." He raised his eyebrows, pushing his glasses back up his nose.       "‘4 PhDs? That’s impressive." She felt herself blushing and gave him an appreciative smile.       "Nothing compared to your accomplishments, doctor." His blush came even quicker, and he awkwardly took off his glasses to fold them together in his hands, ending the tour back at his desk. Putting the glasses down on the table, he looked back up at her, his eyes immediately sliding down to her neck.

      "Your…" He motioned to his throat. "Your necklace is open."       "Oh." She looked down, the silver pendant open, revealing the little painting inside. "Thank you, that happens sometimes. It’s quite old. My mother gave it to me when I left Asgard, back what must have been decades ago now." Laussa smiled at the thought of her mother, then at the confused expression on Banner’s face.’       "Decades? How - how old are you?" She couldn’t suppress a burst of laughter as she eyed the doctor.       "You don’t ask a lady that, Dr. Banner!" He chuckled a bit as well, but she saw him avoiding eye contact in embarrassment as he looked down at the ground. "Well, I suppose I might as well tell you, I’m a little bit older than 700 years. In human years I believe that would make me around… 22? I’m not sure about the conversion rates."       "Wow…" he mumbled, his gaze now back on the necklace as she fumbled with the back to get it off. Letting the silver chain slide in between her fingers, she held the pendant in the palm of her hand, showing it to Banner carefully.

      "It’s both my brothers just before I was born. This is Thor, as you could probably guess, and this is my other brother Loki."       "Oh, I know him, too." Banner said, his tone suddenly dismissive and cold, and she quickly snapped the locket closed again, turning towards the doctor with a sad expression.       "Yes, I heard what he did here… and to you especially. I apologize for that, I assure you, he spends his afterlife in remorse over all of it."

      Bruce’s eyes went big, now shaking his head, visibly at a loss for words, settling for: "I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss. I know he redeemed himself, it’s just - " Laussa smiled at him sincerely, putting the necklace back around her neck as she tried reassuring him.       "It’s alright, I promise, and thank you. I’m going to go, for now, Thor asked me to meet him up on the balcony. Have a good night, doctor, thank you for showing me around… It was very nice to meet you." Shooting him another genuine smile before turning the corner and entering the elevator, she left him alone, both smiling to themselves contently.

▪

      The metal doors opened to another living room, completely enveloped in darkness. Laussa entered the room, immediately drawn in by the giant window, similar to the other living room she’d seen, mesmerised by the dark blue night sky contrasting the shining, colourful city below.

      Opening the glass door, she stepped out onto the huge balcony. Her eyes were glued to the calm sky full of stars, as she took a deep breath of cool air.

      "How are you feeling?" She wasn’t surprised by his silent approach, but still flinched out of her trance to turn around towards her brother. He was back in his usual armour, the silver metal faintly reflecting the bright moonlight, his long, blonde hair brushing over his cheeks in the soft wind of the night.       "It’s… overwhelming. Different." He nodded understandingly as he stepped closer.       "Indeed. How are you feeling after your demonstration earlier?" Laussa smiled at his genuinely concerned expression, quickly reassuring him.       "I’m fine, it wasn’t the first time since Asgard. It just tires me out so much every time, but other than that, I’m fine."

      Turning towards each other, Thor moved his hand closer to her face, dragging his fingertips softly against the skin of her forehead. The green magic surrounding her slowly faded away to reveal the thick, round scars the thorns had left on her forehead as a slight breeze blew her natural dark blonde curls into her field of vision, but she was quick to brush them behind her ear.

      As he softly retreated, the green illusion enveloped her again.       "You look so much like mother," he mumbled, gazing upon her in awe, and Laussa could feel her heart ache at the thought of her mother. "And you are so alike her too, just as strong as her." She felt a sudden pressure on her chest, guilt overcoming her.       "I miss her so much..." Laussa whispered quietly, hoping he heard her.       "I do too. And father - ‘ No. She shook her head, interrupting him.       "You know about my relationship to our father."       "I know."

       There was a potent silence, as she turned back towards the view of the city, leaning her arms on the railing of the balcony, lost in thought.       "You know it wasn’t your fault, right, Laussa?"

      Oh no, please don’t.

      "What, mother? No, I know. Even if I had been there, I didn’t have enough control over my power back then, I couldn’t have done anything except get killed as well. If you mean father, nobody could have saved him, his time had come. As for Surtur, though, I do suspect, while indirectly, that was most definitely at least partly my fault."       "You know I’m talking about Loki.”       At the mentioning of his name, Laussa immediately felt tears stinging in her eyes, forcing her to take a deep breath. The air of the night that had, mere seconds ago, felt so calming to her now burned in her lungs with every breath, making her hunch over the railing in pain.

“And people, what? They buy these?”

“They did,” you shrug, you’re not going to sugarcoat it for Bruce. He’s likely to go looking for the distributor on his own time anyway.

Bruce goes quiet then, but it’s the type of silence from him that only half worries you. He was thinking, certainly, but not in a way that would make him spiral. At least not immediately.

“Right,” Bruce hums. He turns the little green plush over in his hands — both having come off his keyboard where he was inputting notes into his computer the moment you walked into his office. “No parent wants their child playing with a toy modeled after a proverbial natural disaster on legs, huh?”

He cracks a small lopsided grin at that, scoffing to himself. You give him a long look in response and Bruce only offers a shrug, ducking his head and reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck for a moment.

Your lips purse.

“I didn’t say that, B.”

He nods, “It’s the truth though, Y/n, I’m well aware of that.” The scientist stands from his stool, leaving the plush beside his keyboard, moving closer to you and wrapping you up in his arms. Softly, he nudges his nose with your broader one and you smile. “Plus, you’re far nicer than me. Of course you wouldn’t have said that.”

The soft, pale inside of his palm presses to your darker skin as he brings up his hand to cup over your cheek. Before you let yourself lean into his touch you give him a measured look, eyes narrowed, but Bruce doesn’t budge despite the apologetic look he’s giving you.

“Goddamnit, Bruce,” you grumble, giving into his touch after pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

The corners of Bruce’s eyes crinkle. He snorts.

“For what it’s worth it’s actually pretty cute,” he looks over the Hulk plushie with a more critical eye before shrugging, “even if it’s likeness is off.”

You heave a sigh.

“It’s too cute,” you guess.

Bruce nods.

“It’s way too cute,” he confirms, the arm he still has around your waist squeezing playfully at you.

Laughing, you shake your head at him, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pressing a quick peck of a kiss to his lips.

The hand he had on your face drops from your dewy skin to join the other around your waist like a moth drawn to flame, and you grin as he shifts fast to kiss you back, his grip on you tightening.

You put a finger over his lips to keep him from chasing your mouth for more, staring at him with lidded eyes and a sly curve to your lips.

“I feel it pertinent to remind you that Hulk and you share a face, Honey.” Bruce’s eyes widen and he looks about two seconds away from pressing a hand to his chest and acting wounded. “And,” you say before he can take his hands off you, “that I happen to think you’re both plenty cute. In my humble opinion that is.”

“Oh in your ‘humble’ opinion? Is that what we’re calling it?” Bruce snorts again, but when he kisses you next it’s sweeter than it needs to be.

❤︎

Overall, Bruce doesn’t hate the plush toy, which is nice, he just doesn’t particularly care for it. Though he does raise an amused brow once he tracks down the small Brazilian factory that used to make the plushies, a small fond smile curling his lips.

In general his relationship with Hulk is a lot better than it’s been even before everything with Wanda, but post The Avengers forming (hell, after having helped create Ultron with Tony his relationship with himself is the best it’s been since), so he isn’t disgusted like he once would’ve been by the prospect of a company making Hulk plushies.

The Hulk protected him on Sakaar (even if he did a lot of other things Bruce likes less too), and saved his life during The Battle of Wakanda. Bruce could give the Big Guy his props now. Especially after he himself got to kick ass in the HulkBuster, but could still admit to himself that fighting droves of bad guys wasn’t the type of challenge he particularly enjoyed.

Bruce largely disregards the plush after your initial conversation about it. Forgets about the thing, really. When he finds you one night — after he’s been away with the team for a few days on a particularly grueling mission — curled up on the couch with the plush against your chest and your arms wrapped tight around it he finds a kind of fondness for the little Hulk, though.

Cuddling with the plush like that you cut both the most adorable and the most heartbreakingly sweet figure he’s ever seen.

When Bruce scoops you up to carry you off to y’all’s shared bedroom it’s with a small groan (Hulk’s been in charge for the better part of 72 hours, his body was all bruise and still in the process of completely healing from the prolonged transformation, his ass is exhausted), but it’s completely worth it to feel the brush of your soft kinky hair over his cheek and to have you subconsciously curl into him — Hulk plush still held tightly and smushed between both of your bodies — in your sleep.

By the time you’re both in bed you’ve started to stir awake and give him the ‘welcome home’ he always looks forward to, insistent arms locked tight around his shoulders in a hug as he squeezes you flush to him from around your waist. He still makes sure the Hulk plush doesn’t tumble to the floor in your excitement though, handing it back to you and watching with fond russet eyes as you curl up with it again while he spoons you from behind and presses sweet, longing kisses into the brown expanse of your skin.

THE HULK

Hulk is borderline insulted at first until you explain what it is.

When you first come up to him brandishing his plush lookalike you’re not expecting him to both simultaneously respond like you’re about to burn him in effigy and as if you’re betraying him by trying to replace his big green ass with a plushie, of all things, but you suppose that with his reputation and general possessiveness towards you that you should’ve expected his reaction on both accounts.

After a quick explanation, and a pat of your tiny hand over his giant one in reassurance, you’re good to go though.

Once Hulk’s certain you're not trying to replace him or hurt and piss him off, though….

…Hulk immediately hits you with a “But…people hate Hulk,” and you're so caught off guard that you just blink up at him for a few silent moments.

Hulk has your mind going haywire as you think of an answer for him — vetoing “not everyone,” as an acceptable response almost immediately at the impatient grumble he lets out at you taking so long to answer.

Hulk hears your eventual answer of: “Some people still do, yeah, but a few people definitely don’t. I don’t,” and deflates.

The Big Guy slumps forward, resting his elbow onto his thigh where he’s sitting criss-cross in front of you, so he can prop his head up with his fist as he effectively pouts. You feel horrible that you can’t give him any other answer, but that was the truth and you wouldn’t lie to him; especially when you’d be so easily disproved if the Big Guy actually showed his face anywhere.

Hulk’s public perception wasn’t completely in the gutter, with a ton of work and a good deal of care it could be salvaged some, but he definitely wasn’t trusted by the majority of the public anymore (and the trust he and Bruce did have before the incident in South Africa had been faint at best even back in the day).

❤︎

“Fine.” Hulk gives a great big huff that makes your lips quirk. “Hulk look.” He holds out his hand, and you promptly rise on the tips of your toes to place the Hulk plushie delicately in his palm.

Plush now in his free hand; he doesn’t actually move it from where you placed it, just moves his hand this way and that and gives the toy a grave amount of inspection.

“Hulk never wore purple,” he grunts after a few moments, and you laugh.

Hulk wasn’t exactly wrong though. Bruce certainly wore a lot of purple, it was his favorite color after all, but Hulk didn’t touch the color if he could help it outside of the short block of purple that lined the top sides of his uniform pants.

Hulk’s completely unphased when you lean over his thigh opposite from where he’s propping his head up so you can inspect the plush with him. Even drops his hand enough for you to be able to see it at eye level.

After a few of your own silent seconds you nod and solemnly agree that you’ve never actually seen him wear full-on purple, yes, but guess that the color is for color theory purposes as the plush was made for children and would need appealing color coding to match.

“That’s dumb,” Hulk grunts, but he leaves it at that.

He goes right back to staring at the thing in silence again and you’re perfectly content to let him, humming softly and letting yourself rest your upper body over his muscled thigh.

Hulk runs hot so you won’t stay pressed to him for too long (unless it’s cold, then you’re stuck to him like glue) but his jade skin is surprisingly soft for such a force of nature and he’s never once objected to you climbing all over him.

❤︎

Eventually you reach up to take the plush back (mostly bcs Hulk’s had enough of it and is twisting his hand sideways, so if you don’t take it, it’ll fall) and keep talking lightly with Hulk about Avengers shit and whatnot. Absentmindedly, though, you take to running your thumbs softly over the plush’s head area or through its short tufts of fake black “hair”, self soothing with the feel of the plush.

Hulk notices. Hell, Hulk points it out to you.

❤︎

“Y/n not touch Hulk like that.”

A blink.

Freezing, you pause to look down at your fidgeting hands and the soft colorful fabric beneath the pads of your fingers. Your brows furrow.

Another blink— still from you.

Only after a few more beats of silence — only broken by a grumble from the Big Guy as he shifts restlessly — do you look up and turn your blank stare onto Hulk.

Hulk, whose lips are downturned into a frown and who's also watching you like he’s half expecting you to catch a whole conniption over his words.

What you finally, eloquently, settle on saying is: “What?”

❤︎

And that’s how you end up finding out Hulk likes when you run your nails along his scalp as hard as you can (he’s got some tough ass skin, there’s no other way; and if you wear acrylics or gels they’re gonna need to be strong) and when you run gentle hands over his face. Likes it so much he falls asleep, in fact.

It’s also how you end up with literal tons worth of jade green giant lying flat on his back with his head inches away from your lap while you sit criss-cross on the plush carpet behind him with your back leant against his shoulder and hands working overtime as you essentially pet him.

Call him “handsome” while you brush his hair behind his ears and he’ll crack an eye open to drop large eyes down to look at you then grin hard enough to have you cracking up. Press kisses all over his giant cheeks and forehead and over his closed eyelids and he’ll be eating out of your palm for a week— this shit is dangerous.

Overall, after any misunderstandings have been corrected, he’s more readily forgiving of the plush than Bruce, but that’s mostly because he has the benefit of feeling flattered that you’re so eagerly snuggling with a green plushie made in his likeness even as you’re curled up by his side.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!!

Bonus scrapped scene: “Hulk not grey either” “I know, Big Guy, but copyright. The distributors probably didn’t want to get sued for using your likeness.” “Still not grey,” he grumbles, expression turning mulish and petulant. You pat him on the arm in solidarity.

I am in a fucking mood I can’t help myself, the Bruce/Hulk stuff just keeps coming.

So, yeah, I went for the alternate version of Endgame (ie: one of the deleted Hulk/Bruce scenes) and changed the story a bit so that I don’t have to deal with MCU “Smart Hulk” and so that I could have Hulk smash from the HulkBuster armor after Bruce and his back and forth where they come to an understanding (also a deleted scene), but instead of kind of erasing Hulk I’m just making it so now he and Bruce have come to an equilibrium together. I’ve also technically retconned the fuck out of Ragnarok, but I don’t go into that here.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

Bonus(+)Banner —

ahhhh

Also, honestly, it bothers me (to a fictional extent) that Wanda never had to own up to or make up for what she did to Bruce and her making the conscious decision to set the Hulk off in that area of South Africa bcs she was irritated and as a distraction. We know that once Bruce came back to earth and did that ridiculous “Smart Hulk” thing that he had to rebuild his image and public perception of him and that even by She-Hulk: Attorney at Law it’s not stable enough for him to just be around the regular public as a Hulk. Even when in Endgame we see that he’s regained trust and has some amount of celebrity, his position on earth is still clearly tentative. And that’s despite being a big factor in helping save the world.

Bruce had to build himself out of that hole that Wanda dug for him and whatever legal mess and guilt that would’ve naturally followed, Hulk had to sit with that guilt and that confusion (you can see the emotions on his face right before Tony — using Veronica — knocks him out and he’s the one who leaves on the quinjet) then was subsequently erased by the narrative because the writers didn’t want to actually write a Hulk redemption arc, and Wanda got off completely scot free without having to make up for or let herself be rightfully prosecuted for destroying those South Africans’ lives, because the Hulk might not have murdered anyone but Hulk’s rampage (by its very nature) is tantamount to an impromptu natural disaster having torn through that city. A city that Wanda purposely targeted because she was mad at one man, and an infraction that she never made up for or is even seriously mentioned after AOU.

Bonus(+)Pic —

And when the alternative was staying in a world that only brought hurt his way, he preferred being on his own too.

“Hey Big Guy,” a voice crackles through his head. Hulk whips his head in the direction of the ear it comes out stronger through; his brows furrow and his lips curl into something of a snarl. “I’m just signing on to tell you the fight’s done and all that. Can you reel yourself back in, and go find Iron Man?”

At first all the voice reminds him of is Banner.

Puny Banner.

He’s inclined immediately to steer clear of it to some degree, shaking his head to dispel the sudden appearance of a woman’s words in his ear so connected to the man who treats him like a plague.

Then the voice speaks again, and the words fully register.

“Hulk, come on. I know your big green ass can hear me. Your tracking dot is literally still moving.”

Stomping towards another wayward weapon — the shooty thing that barraged him with bullets that felt no more painful than mosquito bites, but that made him grit his teeth and growl anyway at how bothersome they were — Hulk tilts his head.

The pounding in his heart that fuels the bulging veins throughout his towering form skips.

The words make sense in that way they always inexplicably do whenever his heart isn’t pounding quite so loudly — Hulk doesn’t question it; doesn’t think to question it — and for a moment he even finds them funny.

He grumbles something of a laugh in response, even as the voice’s connotation with Banner sticks.

Gaze landing on another of those shooty blocks he’d crashed his way through earlier, a mean grin pulls at his mouth. The voice temporarily forgotten, he lunges.

Smash.

He was good at that.

Hulk was the best at that.

Even after he’s ran through and pounded his fists into everything that shoots at him, or that he’s far more occasionally aimed at by Captain America or some other Avenger, he’s still not tired. Is hardly satisfied either.

“Hulk,” the voice comes again, soft and commanding all the same. “You finished now? Ready to head back to the jet?”

Hulk stops stomping through the tepid forest then, powdery bits of concrete raining from his shoulders and the raven hair atop his head, the sound of bad men’s screams left in his wake overtaken by the voice in his ear. Images of a woman he’s grown very familiar with over the last year flash through his mind— kinky black curls, dark glittering eyes, soft brown skin, and the crest of a fond smile aimed his way.

For once in the last decade, too, that bit of good memory isn’t tainted by Hulk’s own knowledge that he didn’t live it.

The gamma giant huffs out a deep sigh, his shoulders droop, and he lets his head stop swiveling (to stop looking for more threats) around him. He can picture you now, the faint outline of you reaching out to him and pressing the pads of gentle fingers over the green skin of his palm. Of your soft grin and the fascinated look you’d given him a few months ago before urging him closer with a tug on his finger.

You’d been wide-eyed, but not with fear.

Hulk holds onto the warmth that reminder spreads through him, grunts a little to urge you to speak again.

With a chuckle, you do. “What,” you joke, voice lilting, “you don’t want to go back yet? Are the rest of the Avengers shit company, Big Guy?”

Hulk sighs again as you talk, jaw working as the air rushes from his nose. It takes a slew of moments before he can work out his response, unused to needing to do more than grunt and growl or being acknowledged in any way that requires he speak at all.

“No,” he grunts, voice rumbling lowly from neglected vocal chords.

From where he can hear you in his ear, you gasp. Without being able to see you he can’t grasp whether that’s bad or not.

His knee jerk reaction is to tense up. To assume you’re upset and that all your words that make him feel light and make his heart slow will turn snarling.

When all you do afterwards is let out a coo, then, Hulk finds himself squinting at a bird perched on a tree and watching him warily.

He watches it right back, curbs the urge to reach out for it, to feel the soft feathers along it that he gets the sense memory of, only because he knows the destruction his touch can bring.

Giant, balled fists tremble.

Hulk doesn’t want the bird to die. Hulk not too stupid not to know that much.

“Alright,” you murmur sweetly again, and Hulk’s fists unclench with his next gust of breath. He feels a lot less heavy when he watches the bird fly off unharmed. “If you want to relax by yourself, that’s fine. You want me to leave you alone?”

Tiny Woman no leave Hulk alone, he thinks immediately. Translating that sentiment to words as you lapse into patient silence doesn’t come quite as quickly to him, though.

Hulk’s simply too unused to talking, hasn’t said much in general since that one night after fighting Abomination and Betty’s tears and her name stuttered from his tongue.

The only name heavy on his tongue now is yours, however, falling past equally heavy lips as he works his way through the consonants and vowels of it with stilted pauses. In his head it strikes as deeply familiar. In his mouth, however…

“Y/n…stay,” he eventually gets out, words falling like lead boulders at his feet but finally out regardless.

You make a high pleased sound — no matter how muffled — that Hulk registers as such with no small amount of contemplation.

“Okay, Honeybunches,” you murmur, and Hulk finds he enjoys the coiling feeling he gets in his stomach when you call him that.

With a great huff, he sits. Going criss-cross on wet, decayed leaves and partially melted snow. Body crushing fallen branches and leaving an indent in blemished snow immediately.

Hulk doesn’t mind that the snow is seeping water into the faded purple bottom of his pants and that’s mainly because he’s too preoccupied listening to you. To paying close attention to the inflection of your words as you ask him more questions. Asking for more conversation.

For his part Hulk really only answers you through a series of grunts and grumbles. Back to being monosyllabic once more. Talking took too much energy.

In a rare turn you don’t ask him for more than what he’s willing to give, though. Even actively taking what he does give you and interpreting things like his low, short grumble when you ask him about how he likes the cold to mean he’s not a fan correctly.

Hulk likes that.

Large hands curl loose in his lap the longer he sits there with you in his ear. Part of him is angry that he won’t be able to stay like this forever, that something will inevitably come along to hurt him again because that was all his life seemed to ever be: pain and anger, hurt and loneliness.

Another part of him — a part that gets slightly larger the longer he thinks about you and gets to hear your laugh after he chuffs lowly, positively, when you ask him if he smashed anything interesting — envies Banner and the reality Hulk knows to be true that you're his.

Larger parts of him than those can feel his eyes starting to close— wishes for your hands on him again and the unique smell of your scent around him. For your physical presence and the ability to gaze green eyes down on you himself again, not through Banner’s limited perspective.

Hulk frowns, doesn’t think it’s fair Puny Banner gets to have everything while also forcing Hulk into danger he didn’t agree to; only to lock him away in darkness after the pain and the howling fury pumping gamma green faster through his veins has battered him.

Hulk doesn’t want to sleep right then, either, but you snort and call him by that sweet name again and he can feel Banner perk up somewhere in their mind.

“I’m glad the mission wasn’t too hard on you,” you’re telling him, whisper soft and with a tone of voice that brings the imagery of your two-toned lips curling into a frown to his mind.

Hulk frowns for a completely different reason, even as the thought of your upset clenches uncomfortably at his stomach, and gives a rough shake of his head.

Banner’s consciousness prods at his own with more force than before. Hulk stands with a start, heart no longer settled, and swats at it like it’s a physical thing. Hand cutting through the air in front of his face with a sharp thwack.

“Hulk?” you question, the alarm in the call of his name making him queasy.

Or maybe that was the feeling of his eternal organs beginning to grow smaller than he can utilize.

Hulk lets out a deep, caustic growl that trembles the air in front of him, teeth bared.

He looks around wildly, eyes wide and breath fast and more scared than he’d ever appreciate, as he shrinks. He stumbles forward. The large hand he uses to catch himself on the trunk of a tree isn’t as big as he knows it should be. His body shudders succinctly enough he bites down on his molars until they hurt and screws his eyes shut with a wallowing grunt.

He tries to call your name and this time his vocal cords don’t even attempt to work under his own power.

Your voice fades out halfway through you speaking words he no longer has the privilege of understanding.

Then Hulk’s gone.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! 🫶🏾

Whew! Okay, that kind of hurt my feelings to write and that was not the plan. Like, this was just supposed to be a lil fluff companion piece to the smut in the Bruce fic, but now it’s kind of some fluff and a lot of angst, and I don’t even know anymore.

In rare form Hulk was both off duty — not actively avenging — and allowed “free range”. And as demeaning as that sounds, it’s closer to the truth than you’ve ever liked.

It’s only the existence of the Avengers, and what everyone outside of the team (and some within) view as their leash on him, that allows him any semblance of a peaceful life.

Of a heroic path.

Finally he looks down at you in full, gaze stalling for a brief moment for him to no doubt look over your brown skinned and bathing suit clad form.

Colorful braids that fall past your ass when you stand pool both around your head and cascade in purple vines down Hulk’s inner thighs — whether the braiding hair is caught around your hair or the braids are a wig, doesn’t matter, they were yours regardless.

Then Hulk meets you gaze, large green eyes alight with far more intelligence than people gave him credit for.

His nose scrunches with his displeasure.

“Sunset,” he says, the bass of his voice quiet. “I’ll see if he wants to come out then. No earlier.”

“Of course.” You draw an invisible ‘X’ over your heart, crossing it, just to hear him huff. The bunched muscles beneath you relax in tandem. “No earlier,” you agree, “and thank you, Hulk.”

“Hm,” he grumbles, looking away from you, a hand swooping up to scratch at his nape, “you’re welcome. And this isn’t for Banner either, it’s only because you asked.”

You nod and Hulk finally drops his hand. Going back to leaning on it, fingers burrowing into the sand, like he was before. More relaxed than he typically gets to be.

It’s a good sight.

The caveat he tacked on at the end about Bruce was less good, however. But it wasn’t something you wanted to get too involved in either; this was something they’d have to work out on their own. Sharing a body and both having individual lives and active wants for the first time in their life.

Ever since they’d been framed and locked up by General Ross, both Hulk and Bruce have changed. Hulk is more resolved than ever to be a hero, and forcing people to actively confront his humanity has become a major part of that. Bruce’s zeal for existing and actually living life again has steadily come back to him too, and with it the desire to front has undoubtedly increased. Finding equilibrium now that Bruce wanted back out more often and Hulk had even more of a lease on life was certainly winding up to be a Herculean task for both of them.

Which means you’ve had to insert yourself more than you think is…beneficial in the long term. Even if seeing them struggle made your heart hurt and itched at your nerves.

None the wiser to your fleeting spiral, Hulk clears his throat. Starts chatting about bird watching of all things, and updating you on how sparring with Thor has been going.

Settled on top of him, you listen avidly. Angling your head so the sun’s glare is blocked by his larger one, and leaning back so you’re propped up onto your elbows, legs curled lazily closer to his torso.

Hulk gestures broadly with one hand, speaking for you alone. The corners of his eyes crinkling fondly as he recounts throwing Thor through three walls in the training room after successfully outmaneuvering the God of Thunder.

He calls him a punk the whole time, and isn’t that something?

It’s a level of conversation he wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to engage in even several months back. Too enraged, too attacked. Too unconsidered to bother.

Now he’s a far cry from having to lash out despite himself, to protect himself. To protect Bruce. Still angry, he was always angry, but smiling with you nonetheless. Snorting at his own jokes. Dressed in a pair of purple swim trunks that you don’t bother trying to hide the appreciative way you eye him up in, and little else. It’s a good look for him. And usually his only look, but still.

It was purposeful this time; the trunks at least made for him and not torn out of Bruce’s pants.

You could appreciate the autonomy exercised in him slowly amassing a wardrobe of his own.

Minutes pass before anyone disrupts your small pocket of beach bound contentment.

All because you catch Wasp’s eye midway through a gut-clenching bout of laughter. Lulled by the off kilter, slightly caustic humor Hulk’s long begun to develop and the thumb he’s been absently rubbing against your side. Rubbing over the heat warming your skin and pressing carefully, so very delicately, into the softness of your body.

Eyes going wide, Janet smiles big even after your smile dulls and you shake your head. Trying to dispel her.

When she starts coming over anyway, you relax fully across your coveted spot. Strings cut like a tangled mirrorette.

Turning your face into Hulk’s leg, you groan into green skin.

“We’re about to start water polo!” she chirps just as you pop your head back up. Your expression fixed to not look rude, you give her a wane smile. Shifting all the while so that you’re sitting up, facing away from Hulk, as she closes in. “We could totally do girls against boys?”

Nevermind the fact that you’d be outnumbered by at least one — if Natasha didn’t flat out reject Janet’s offer, that is — and that even while you didn’t dislike Janet, you didn’t consider her a friend either.

Sometimes being attached to one hero — mentally two — was enough for a working woman.

“I‘m sorry, Girl. I might’ve another day, but I can’t get my hair wet.” You gesture to your hair with a flourish and a toss; can feel the way Hulk’s body vibrates with poorly concealed laughter beneath your ass at the theatrics. “This hair is just too new, you know?”

Braids knock against your back and land quickly over your shoulder to rock with the breeze against the side of your face and Janet watches them like she’s mesmerized. The loud, passionate woman blinks, shakes her head.

You don’t mention that you also just don’t feel like getting in the water and doing all that actively— nevermind that you’d probably end up in the water later, hair protected, because either of your partner’s overheated bodies needed cooling, but Hulk gives you a look like he sees right through your lying ass anyway.

Big Green doesn’t give you away though, just snorts lowly and turns his head away to watch where a bunch of pelicans are flocking around a startled looking Clint. Plus, you knew his game just as well and Hulk certainly didn’t want you off his lap anytime soon either. If he called you out he’d be jeopardizing that based on your sheer pettiness alone, let alone Janet’s pestering.

Janet ignores him anyway and takes to giving you her best puppy dog eyes. You don’t throw your head back to groan, but you kind of want to.

“Aw, really.” She looks over you, nose crinkling cutely. “The water can’t be that bad for your braids. It’s just hair.”

Tell that to the salt buildup you’ll have to scrub out if you get into the water.

‘To you,’ you think, fighting back a frown.

On the outside you don’t even bother talking out loud anymore, since her lil, shrinking ass wasn’t listening anyway, and just stare at her blankly. A mantra of ‘fix your face, fix your face’ zipping through your mind all the while.

Even if you didn’t want to hang with them (and their finicky acceptance of Hulk’s humanity) at the moment, that didn’t mean you wanted to end up alienating Hulk from the Avengers even a bit by being too much of a bitch. Not with how hard he was still trying to come to terms with their persisting uncertainty of him.

“So you’re really not going to go in, huh?”

“That’s…what I said,” you respond, your smile growing smaller and fingers twitching in your lap.

Pushy.

Pushy would overwhelm and then piss you off if she kept bothering you.

Hulk seems to know it too because he perks up, shifting under your easily taken weight. His big hand flashes in a jade blur in your periphery as he talks.

“Janet,” he grunts; just enough warning in his voice to be admonishing. “Stop pestering.”

You watch Janet flush and can’t even be happy, you just want her to take your answer and go.

“Alright, alright. I got it, Big Guy.” The brunette grins at him, winking. “Janet leave Hulk’s girl alone,” she grumbles out in a too light and too breathy mimicry of his own stilted speech from a few years ago.

The muscles in Hulk’s leg bulge as he tenses — physically shifting you up a bit where you’re sat on his thigh. Janet gives him two thumbs up before finally turning to bounce back to the others, and you yearn for the peace you both had not five goddamn minutes ago.

“…Your teammates,” you start, searching for the most tactful way to get your point across as you go.

“Can be too much?” Hulk’s low base finishes for you.

“Yeah that.” You knock your head up to grin at him, his head haloed by the sky’s now setting fire, and he gives a broad laugh.

“Now,” you say lightly, “about what we were discussing earlier…”

Hulk huffs and the air from it blows your braids around for a moment, but he nudges the beach bag you’d brought with you closer to your legs where you’ve moved them to hang off his own.

“Yeah, I’ll see about taking you to watch the birds in Nevada, but only because you asked nicely.”

“And because I’m me, and you can’t resist me?” You flutter your lashes at him, wiggling in his lap, and by the way his lips twitch you know he’s fighting back a smile.

“Don’t push it,” he grunts, losing the battle with his grin.

─────

When Bruce comes back to you he’s…lucid.

He only stumbles a little at the sight of you in your swimsuit, at least.

The brunette man doesn’t fall, but you shift to stabilize him anyway. Hands curling around his forearms, like you’re scared he’ll collapse.

That he’ll wither away in your arms and you’ll never have a chance to bask in the fragile, earnest way he smiles at you again.

“I got you,” you mutter, brown eyes greedily taking him in. For once Bruce actually looks well rested, the bags under his eyes just a little less severe and his gaze alert without exhaustion along the edges.

Bruce hardly teeters for more than a second, only scrambling to grab Hulk’s trunks before they fall off his hips, but he doesn’t pull away from you or your hold on him.

“Sorry,” he stutters, deep set eyes wide on your face, “I’m fine. I— just— distracted.”

Oh, you could tell.

“Regardless,” you say, grinning and squeezing a bit at his arms to help reiterate your statement, “I got you, Banner.”

For the first time since you grabbed ahold of him Bruce seems to actively register your positions. He flushes.

“Yeah,” he says, looking you in the eyes, “I can— uh— I can see that.”

“Mm,” you hum, acknowledging. You start to rub your thumbs along the edges of his rough elbows. “Hello, Handsome.”

Bruce smiles that vibrant, gentle way he always does for you. He rocks a little closer.

In the secluded area you’ve tucked yourselves into, just behind the shower building, you guys exist in your own little bubble of the world.

“Hello, Beautiful,” he murmurs back, voice only cracking a little. “How are things? The weather seems nice.”

“Oh it is, for sure,” you agree, playing along. “That’s why I just had to convince a certain big green Goliath to let you out to see.”

“Well I’m seeing,” Bruce says, but he certainly isn’t looking out at the gorgeous expanse of bright blue ocean and warmed, litter free, sand at you guys’ disposal.

The hand he isn’t using to hold up his pants moves, careful not to jostle your hold on him, and curls lightly around your bicep. Just to touch any part of you.

Longing, deep and hard won, eases and settles out of you at the feel of him against your skin, warming your insides and filling you with connection.

When you brandish a slim pair of plum swim trunks in his size, waving it around as the sea breeze brushes over your braided coils, tossing your braids around your body in a flurry and sweeping his hair to the side, Bruce snorts.

Winking, you hold them just a bit out of reach when he lets go of you to grab them, however.

“What did I just say,” you murmur, leaning in close to him and smiling a little wider at the way your plump lips glide just a little against his thinner grin.

“Oh,” Bruce grunts, but there’s little of the surprise the exclamation would suggest in his tone.

Ever used to finding himself in compromising positions — and far more eager than he’s ever been to be in one with you now you’ve sorted things out — Bruce doesn’t do so much as stutter in his movement as he lets go of his grip on Hulk’s pants.

The way they look pooled at his ankles is comical, and you giggle even as you lean into him more. Bruce chuckles himself, but it doesn’t last quite so long once you’re pressed to him, and he quickly makes use of his having both hands free to wrap his arms around you.

You let him, hands bracing themselves against pale hips, and lips locking with his in a long awaited kiss.

Fuck, but you missed this. Even with his lips slightly chapped, kissing Bruce is electric, sending tingles up your body and down your spine. You the conduit of his wily, gamma edged electricity.

Still kissing, Bruce starts to explore your body intermixed with his slight breaks from your mouth to allow you both the chance to breathe. You're happy to let him do it, letting him take even more of your weight— and despite his outward appearance you know he can.

Calloused hands, tinkering, scheming hands, drag up and down your body with reverence. Refamilarizing with every dip and scar and stretch mark, old and new. No stone is unturned as he rubs his palm across your belly and over your ass, feeling up your thighs and squeezing at your hips and your waist.

Hands brush across your breasts so quickly, but make your breath hitch anyway, drag up your arms like he’s trying to commit them to memory through touch alone, and over your shoulders and up your neck until he can cup your face between his balms with open heartache.

Unlike his bigger other half, Bruce seems to more actively appreciate your new hair.

After about five minutes with you on his lap Hulk had complained about the braiding hair being itchy but, despite you offering to move, he’d promptly refused to even let you get up with a giant jade anvil of a hand pressed lightly to your abdomen. Then proceeded to absently twirl his pinkie around a few braids (after asking permission, of course).

By comparison, Bruce twists scarred, slender fingers through the mixture of black and purple braids wound through your kinky hair. He takes a second to hum to himself and really look at them, confirms what he remembers, and says he loves them. Complimenting the color and the different way they frame your face.

Eventually you have to pull away completely for full gulps of air, but you’re both laughing while you do it.

Bruce was still in the nude after all. Shameless though he was in front of you, and too used to having to throw shame out the window when Hulk could drop him into any manner of precarious situation without warning, you still needed to get him dressed.

Tony could only rent a small stretch of the beach after all, and only for so long. Money didn’t talk loud enough every time, no matter the amount he could throw around.

Shortly thereafter you hold out Bruce’s swim trunks for him to step into. He hesitates for all of one second, brow raising, before indulging you and you pull them securely up his legs in a singular motion once he’s fully stepped in.

If you brush your nails across his bare thighs and flatten a hand to his newly covered ass for a second while you do, then that’s your business.

Bruce mutters nonsense at every stray touch, head bent into your neck as he presses kisses to your brown skin and the little hitches of his warm breath curl over your veins.

Fingers curl into your hair and blunt nails scratch softly, pleasantly at your scalp. You let out a deep sigh across his skin and skim your palms over his stomach and up to his abdomen, curbing the urge to drag the pads of your fingers over his nipples with a bite of your lip.

When you pull him in to tighten and then tie the laces around his waist, he gasps and you shiver as his eyes go lidded.

“You’re teasing me,” he accuses, like you're not just returning the favor, his voice low only for its lack of use and Bruce’s own general tendency towards the monotone.

“A little, yeah,” you say, snickering and leaning in to peck him on the lips before continuing, “but we won’t be able to do shit until we’re alone so it’s all either of us is getting.”

“If both of us have to wait, then why do I feel like I’m getting the shorter end of the stick here for some reason?”

“Feel however you want, Honey,” you pull away from him then, reaching down to grasp his hand in yours and starting to drag him along. “I’m getting what I want regardless,” you finish, cackling at the way he scoffs even while still actively letting you lead him wherever without question.

That he takes the time to fold up and tuck Hulk’s disregarded trunks under his arm in your rush, makes your smile soften.

Still, you had a very blue, very cool ocean to enjoy with your man, you both needed to get a move on if you wanted in the water before nightfall. You just needed to find the sunscreen first.

“There’s popsicles?” he exclaims along the way, delivery almost dry despite himself.

A weight sloughs its slimy tendrils from your shoulders as you laugh and tell him to grab you another while digging for your SPF and a large scrunchie to put your hair up.

Both your guys in one day, after months without either, was one hell of a gift.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

I suppose (even when considering Hulk’s characterization in EMH) that I’m writing my version of EMH Hulk closer to a Gravage/Green Scar more than any other alter. If anyone was curious. “Gravage” is my favorite Hulk, though, (even if I do love them all) so that makes sense.

I’d like to point out that I started writing this months before the 2025 Marvel Swimsuit Special came out (but it was nice to actually see Hulk drawn in purple swim trunks; or the remains of Bruce’s, at least).

This little series was also prompted by the premise from the Hulk/Bruce storyline that I’ve read would’ve happened in season three of EMH between Bruce, Hulk, and Betty Ross if the show had continued. I disrespected Hulk and Janet’s canon EMH relationship a bit too here, but during the arc when he was framed I vaguely remember her getting on my nerves so…