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Bruce Banner kissed you today.
It was quick, but sweet and full of innocence.
Both of you were a blushing mess afterward, and you'd both went your separate ways, not quite knowing what to do. The rest of the team noticed how you both were acting strange— stranger than normal, that is— and wouldn't stop pressuring you to talk about it.
As a result, you shut yourself in your room the rest of the day, deciding you'd work out when everyone else was asleep.
Finally, you slide out of bed, sneak out of your room, and make your way to the gym. You ready yourself to box, needing to let off some steam.
Not only had Bruce Banner kissed you, but you'd botched a mission the day before, resulting in mission failure. No one blamed you, of course, because you put civilian lives above the success of the mission and they couldn't fault you for that, but the perpetrators that attacked the city have gone underground, and there's no way to track them until they strike again.
So, to say you're disappointed in yourself is an understatement. Add on your confused and unresolved feelings for Bruce, it's all becoming a little too much.
You throw punch after punch, focusing on the annoyance you feel toward yourself. You feel your wrist turn the wrong way and yelp, cursing yourself for not paying attention to how you were throwing your punches.
"Not imagining it to be me, are you?" Bruce's voice says from behind you. You don't turn around, busying yourself with wrapping your sprained wrist.
"Maybe next time," you reply.
"May I ask who?"
"Myself."
Bruce is quiet for a moment, and you finally turn around. He studies you, and you stand there, a little uncomfortable.
"Why?"
"Why would I choose anyone else?"
"Because there are plenty of other people who deserve it, and you're not one of them."
"I botched the mission yesterday, Bruce."
"To save lives. If you hadn't, thousands would be dead."
"I know, but—"
"Anyone would have done the same. We can always find the bastard who bombed them, but we wouldn't have been able to get back the people who would have died." You sigh, taking a swig of your water.
"How do you know the right things to say?"
"You're talking to the king of self-hatred." You frown.
"You shouldn't hate yourself. You're a wonderful man," you argue. He laughs humorlessly.
"I'm more monster than man."
"A monster wouldn't be in a gym at four in the morning trying to comfort an emotionally distraught girl," you argue. Bruce says nothing, and you approach him slowly.
"What are we doing?" Bruce asks quietly as you stop in front of him.
"What are any of us doing?" you reply cheekily.
"This isn't a good idea."
"You kissed me, remember?"
"It was a mistake." You ignore the pang that sends through you, knowing its his self-hatred and doubt talking.
"Was it? I don't think it was," you admit. "I think it was long overdo."
"I don't want to ruin you, (Y/N)."
"I would never let a man ruin me," you reply, stepping closer. You can practically hear Bruce's heartbeat, though you may just be hearing your own in your ears.
"Why aren't you scared of me?"
"Why would I be scared of the man who makes me feel the safest I've ever felt?" you ask. His breathing stalls, and your heart breaks at the shock on his face. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course," he replies immediately. You rest your hands on his cheeks and stand on your toes, but stop, waiting for him to take the leap.
After a few tense moments, his lips connect with yours, and this time, he doesn't pull away.
He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms fully around you. Just as you feel you can't get any closer, he pulls away. You're worried that he'll leave, but he just rests his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling together.
You look up at him, your heart calming at the content look on his face. He opens his eyes, smiling a little at you, and you giggle.
"I love you, (Y/N)," he whispers. Your smile grows, and you kiss him gently once more.
