It Must Be Your Birthday

Summary: For Mark's 50th and Scarlett's 33rd Birthdays. Thanks for making our ship sail! When you don't know your exact date of birth, every day could be your birthday. Filling in some of the gaps that lead to Brutasha/HulkWidow/BruceNat in Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Notes: Stand Alone Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanoff story that is canon compliant to the MCU and takes place after the Battle of New York and before Bruce's birthday in December of 2012. Thanks to Autumn_Froste who made time to read it on her holiday! I asked some of you for quirks, questions, and head canons to work into the story. Hope I hit them all!

"Whoa!" Bruce jumped as Natasha slipped her cold feet under his thigh. She'd talked him into watching Roman Holiday with her on a Friday night as a follow up to a conversation they'd had the previous week about old black and white films. They both had it on their favorites lists, so when Natasha texted him that morning to say it would be on the television that night, he'd been game to watch it with her over pizza and beer. He told himself it wasn't that big of a deal. Though Tony and Pepper were headed to Malibu, surely Steve and Clint were around, right?

The team had shared several movie nights since Bruce had moved into Avengers Tower after the Battle of New York. Other teammates had come and gone from there over the summer months and into the fall, and much to his chagrin, he'd worked a partnership out with Tony and become a mainstay in the upper floors. Nevertheless, Bruce was rather surprised when he and the former assassin were the only two there in the Commons area that Friday evening. Bruce usually sat back in the back of the large area (with its open floor plan, it really wasn't just a room) in his favorite chair in the corner near the hall entryway, so he could duck out without being noticed if he felt the need. However, with only the two of them there, he wasn't going to be rude and standoffish, especially since he'd been looking forward to seeing her, er, the movie all day. When he'd come straight down from his new and embarrassingly well-equipped lab, Natasha was just setting down the pizza box on the coffee table in front of the best couch that was located dead center in front of the insanely large screen.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Doc. Everyone else is out of town or indisposed," Natasha lamented, but she really didn't sound all that sad. What a difference a few months and a shared appreciation for hot beverages on sleepless nights had made between them. They'd tiptoed around each other for a couple of weeks before she'd come down to the Commons kitchen at 3:11am in search of hot water for instant coffee, and he'd talked her into sharing hot chocolate with him instead.

He'd handed her a steaming mug as they faced each other across the dark composite counter where she sat on a barstool with her back to the New York skyline. "Peace offering?" Bruce asked her.

Natasha looked at him without hiding her mild surprise, but she answered with a neutral tone. "Are we at war, Doc?" She was in her workout gear, and he was wearing Hulk-covered pajama pants and a t-shirt from the souvenir store in the lobby (first-run prototypes Tony had forced on him). He had two days worth of beard stubble on his chin, but his deep brown eyes were friendly and curious. She thought, not for the first time, that he really was appealing, handsome, in fact, when he wasn't wound tight like a jack-in-the-box or coming at you in the big, green, and angry economy size.

Bruce carefully set down the very warm mug in his hands as he took the bar stool opposite hers. "I hope not. I just wanted to say I'm sorry the other guy went after you before, you know, aliens and Asgardian nut jobs. You really didn't deserve that. Sorry."

"Not a problem." She waited a moment for him to look up from his beverage that was still too hot to drink just yet. "I mean it, Bruce. I ought to be the one apologizing to you. If I'd known about that smug bastard's plan just a few minutes sooner, maybe I . . ."