#stanner

He pauses mid–sock removal, one brow lifting in that maddeningly calm Bruce Banner way. “Sexual innuendos?”

I pitch my voice up and flutter my eyelashes. “‘I’m so glad to have Bruce working under me again… Metaphorically this time, tee hee.’” Then, dry: “Subtle as a brick through a window.”

Bruce tries not to smile as he folds his clothes and tucks them away. He fails.

“I’m allowed to be annoyed,” I say, kicking my jeans into a corner with more force than necessary. “I am the undisputed king of sexual innuendos.”

He laughs. “Yes, yes. And how dare she disrespect the sanctity of our marriage of convenience.”

“She doesn’t know it was convenient!” I flop onto the bed. “To her it’s… what’s the phrase? Oh right. ‘Oh nooo, Dr. Banner, I’m just a helpless engineer who needs your big strong brain…’”

“Oh my god,” Bruce groans. “You’re actually jealous.”

He sounds surprised. Like jealousy isn’t a fundamental building block of my personality. Like he hasn’t known me for more than half my life. I don’t answer. I just look away, fingers twisting together into fists. I hate how quickly the insecurity hits. The old, stupid fear that one day someone better, calmer, less catastrophically me will come along and I’ll lose the people I love.

Bruce sits down beside me, closer than before. “Tony.”

I keep staring at a spot on the ceiling like it’s personally betrayed me.

“Tony,” he repeats, gentler. “Becky’s grown. The prenup expired years ago. If I wanted to leave, I could’ve walked away with half your empire and a toaster collection.”

I snort, weakly. “You hate my toaster collection.”

He rolls his eyes, affectionately I'm sure. “Forgive me for not wanting Hulk’s face burned into my breakfast every morning… But that’s my point. I’m still here.” His voice softens “I’m planning on staying…” Then he laughs sheepishly and adds "Even if my incredibly intelligent and attractive ex is still kind of into me”

My chest does a painful flip. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

He tilts his head, studying me with that scientist’s focus he usually reserves for gamma signatures and world-ending threats. “Good.”

He pulls me in. And I let him. We kiss. Slow, familiar, grounding.

But underneath it, I can feel it: The tension. The project. The pressure. The way something feels inexplicably off. Like a storm building on the horizon. The way Bruce’s hands linger against my jaw like he’s memorizing me. Like he knows something is coming.