Title: Pretty

Paring: Bruce Banner X Reader

Warnings: science, self esteem issues, Hulk feels, friends to lovers, fluff, angst. Also, features Superfamily (Tony/Steve).  

Spoilers: nope! I've not yet seen Thor: Ragnarok. 

Requested By: kristaoptimusprime (Krista). Hope you like it!

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Some days he has no idea how he'll do it, but every single day it still gets done. That's the great Bruce Banner for you – he seems to be a mix of healthy scepticism, dad jokes and scientific formulae, but when really, he's just a guy. Someone who made mistakes, like any other human...but instead of them being just a scar of the past, they are his present. His future. Dr Banner scouted you when you completed university with a fresh degree on biochemistry and evolutionary development, and while it was quite exciting to be an official scientist working with the Avengers, it was even more exciting that you were his lab partner to work on more humanitarian projects...and make sure there were less of those projects like the Ultron disaster.

You think highly of your lab partner, just like you do of all the people you are surrounded by in the facility; it was an honour that you were to work alongside world renowned scientists like Dr Helen Cho, Dr Jane Foster...the list goes on. Apart from how amazing the job was, though, you did love working with Dr Banner.

Which meant, for his former lab partner...

"Dr _________, be honest," Tony Stark waltzed into the lab, like he owned the place. Well, he did own the facility, but still. Being humble never killed anyone. "What's messier, my life, or my hair?"

You glance up from the computer monitor where you're sequencing a genome, and frown. Like always, his hair is flawless, gelled the right way that makes all the women who read the weekly tabloids' panties get wet. "No comment." You reply, focusing back on the genetic code, where you're trying to figure out how to replicate the same arrangement of genes that was required for the experiment. When you glance up once more from your screen to see that Mr Stark is still standing there, expecting an answer, you sigh. "Okay, uh, your life?"

He makes a noise like a groan. "Uh, wrong. Neither. I'm great."

Bruce harrumphs from the Bunsen burner and beaker of the genetic solution before him. "Don't let Pepper hear you say that, Shell Head."

Tony smacks his lips together, and in retaliation, says, "C'mon, Bruce, what's messier, your life or your hair?"

It's only now you notice there's a small tinge of green above his collar, and pausing your sequencing program, you place a hand on your lab partner's shoulder. His dark brown eyes meet yours, and without words shared, you see the edge being taken from his stare, the pigment leaving his skin. He takes a deep breath – in through his nose, out through his mouth – and gives you a kind smile.

"Thanks, _________," he nods.

Tony doesn't get an answer to his question.

You're in the library, making some serious headway through the latest book in the series you love. It's your day off, after all, and when you're not being a total nerd in the Avengers' laboratory, you're being a total dork in the library, in a world of the author's, surrounded by the fictional life you would all but die to be a part of.

Except –

"_________, what's this one about?" Pietro Maximoff was all over the place, as always. He was a good guy, yes, but he had a way of being completely mature when it came to serious matters surrounding life, death, and his sister...and a way of being puerile everywhere else. "None of these books are interesting..."

You slide your bookmark into the pages, and look across to the elder Maximoff. He's laying upside down from the couch, his legs up, head hanging like a bobble-head doll. In his hands is a copy of The Time Traveller's Wife.

"It's my day off, Maximoff." You say, not budging from your seat. You're quite comfortable, and there's no force on Earth that could get you to get out from your favourite seat in all of the library. No, scratch that, all the Avengers Compound. "If you want to mess with someone, I suggest that new guy, Ant Man."

Pietro shakes his head. "I pranked him just this morning," he confesses, still upside down, "I put mice in his bed." You don't question it. He nearly pranked you a few times, and you don't try to get in on it, or know a detail. You're a good lab assistant. Not an accessory to a crime. "How can you just read and read and read...?" he asks.

You don't have to think. "Books are always there for me." you tell him, "I grew up in a rough neighbourhood, and even though he was a soldier, my Dad read to me. Got me and my sister interested in science, using my brain. My stepdad wasn't a fan of it, but jokes on him. I'm not working nights at a cannery."

Pietro's silent. Then, "Your Dad's dead?"

You nod, "Gulf War." Suddenly, you're not in the mood for the fantasy fictional adventures in your book, and you stand up. "I'll see you around, Pietro." Even though you're not a super-fast speedster, you don't waste time leaving the library. But, in doing that, you don't look where you're going, and really, through the tears, you hardly see who you knock into, and land onto the floor of the library with.

"_________," Bruce Banner manages to say. "What's wrong?"

Your tears increase. You're sobbing now, having relived something you'd rather not touch with a very long stick, because you've just knocked down your lab partner like a footballer, and that even through the tears, you can see a green tinge upon his forearm. "I – I'm – sorry," you manage to say, wiping your eyes on the back of your shirtsleeve. "I didn't see you –,"

You're too busy babbling to see the tinge disappearing, but Bruce isn't overcome with a crop of sadness, and picks up your book, and straightening the bent cover, brushes off the dirt from it. "Is this the latest book in the series?" He asks you, handing it to you, "I used to read these when I was about your age, wow, I didn't know the author was still writing them!"

You nod. "It's really, really good."

"What happened to that character, the asshole?" he asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.

You shake your head, and laugh softly. "Spoilers, Dr Banner."

Watching from the other end of the Avengers facility the security surveillance footage from his Stark phone, the Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist raised a brow at what he was seeing, causing the pancakes he was cooking for young Mr Parker, Steve, and himself to burn.

It's a gala, dedicated to the fifth anniversary of the Battle of New York, or, commonly known to the public as The Incident. It's just an excuse for the team to be seen in public together, as the press love to have it, and for everyone to get all dressed up for the night in very expensive clothing. Since you weren't there for the original assembling of the Avengers, you don't suppose they need you down in Manhattan for the event, and in yoga pants and a terribly old band tee, you're taking the afternoon that you usually have off to enjoy the unseasonably quiet common area to yourself.

But that's not what's on the agenda, apparently, as Helen Cho rushes past wearing a white knee-length dress that covers her shoulder in a cape-like fashion. "_________!" She cries out, aghast, "I have been bribed, poked, prodded and humiliated from my lab coat into this thing! You cannot stay here when I have to look like this!" She all but lifts you from the couch, and shoves you in the direction of your bedroom. "Please, please, get ready, we're leaving soon!"

You're standing there, half-naked and afraid, and suddenly, you feel like the only thing you have that will pass as fancy is the lingerie that you bought for an ex-boyfriend who had broken it off with you the day after you purchased the silk and lace thing. But luckily for you, your twin sister (a researcher in Antarctica) gave you her nice non-winter clothes before departing to penguin land, and there's a slip dress with a thin mesh layer embroidered with flowers. Luckily, you're the same size, because in just ten minutes, you're made up and hair acceptable, and being dragged off with Helen into the Quinjet that's flying directly to the tower.

Clint Barton flies, as always, wearing a sort of bowtie and button-down, and Wanda has a dress that's the colour of dark red wine, and with her eye makeup, looks like a force to be reckoned with.

So much your quiet introvert's-night-in plans.

When you get there, the party is already kicked off, with the DJ playing popping hits after one another. You can see Thor dancing beside Steve, who both seem to have a flask in hand of something you won't touch. There's Vision, standing beside Dr Richards, and his wife, Susan, and they're listening to Hank Pym intently. Your eyes find Bruce Banner's, where he sits at the fringe, nursing a drink, keeping an eye on young Peter Parker who seems to be curled up in Bruce's jacket.

You place a hand on Helen's, and motion to the dance floor. "Enjoy yourself," you tell her, and as she goes off to boogie, you gravitate to where your lab partner is, stopping only to grab a glass of champagne at the bar.

"Don't we look out of place," you say, taking a seat beside Bruce. "Enjoying yourself?"

He shrugs. "Trying to." Frowning, he adds, "I didn't know you were coming tonight, thought you wanted to binge Netflix."

You laugh at that, and taking a sip of your drink, you say, "I was, until Dr Cho intercepted my plans. I'm not complaining, at least I don't have to pay for my drinks," you raise a brow, "So, about the project, the altering of genes? I never got a brief as why you wanted to work on it. I thought you were more of a biophysicist, rather than a genetic pioneer," you comment. "In case you didn't know, cloning is illegal."

It's Bruce's turn to laugh. "I'm not planning on making any copies of any of the Avengers, if that's what you're asking," he jokes, and glancing beside him, he watches as Peter nestles into his side. "I'm trying to find a way to separate me."

You're silent for a second. While you're close with Bruce Banner, you don't quite know the same man that his close friends do, his ex-lover Betty Ross did. But you do know of the stories, that the man who had been hit with gamma radiation hated the creature he became afterward.

"Okay."

He's silent, then, "Okay?" he repeats. "You're not going to fight me on this?"

"I don't want my personal opinions to cloud my scientific judgement, Dr Banner," you clear your throat. "I – I'm still just a scientist, one year out from my PhD in the job that's the opportunity of a lifetime." You tell him honestly.

"Bruce! Bruce!" Thor calls out, beckoning him from the dancefloor. "Join us!"

You take this opportunity to excuse yourself, going to find the bathroom to cool off. Thank goodness that you'd only had one drink, because if it were a few more, you might have accidently confessed that you had some feelings for your co-worker. But when you're gone from the seat beside him, the only thing left behind is the flute of champagne, you're not there to see Bruce's smile falter, and to see him decline to invitation to dance. Instead, he stays beside the sleeping Spider Man, and thinks about what he just said to you.

From the bar, Tony Stark might have beer-goggles on, but he can still see what's going on between his friend and Dr _________ as clear as day.

It's a very sunny day, and while you really should be working on the research to see how to separate Bruce Banner from The Hulk, you're enjoying the warmth. It is supposed to be autumn, after all, and you're not one for sitting around idly when there could be a day in the sun at stake. Well, not usually. But today, all the Avengers are out on the lawn, practicing their battle skills. Steve is battling it out with Bucky, Sam is flying around, as is Vision, and Tony. Clint and Nat are sparring, Wanda waiting on the side. Pietro is lifting weights. Bruce is doing push ups.

You're eating a bagel all the while, sitting on a makeshift picnic blanket of your over shirt, your eyes following the team from a nearby hillock where you sit away, not distracting them. Because you're not a hero, or even, a combatant, you don't have to work on your fitness, at least, to this sort of extreme. You like to use the team's swimming pool, and the yoga room when you have time. But now, you're watching them show off their sheens of sweat, and gratefully, aren't in that melee.

But it isn't in any sort of order when Sam is knocked out from the sky somewhere near where Bruce is, and apart from the cursing you can hear the ex-military man doing, you can see the shaking of Bruce's shoulders. Visually see the green spreading over his shoulders.

"Code green!" Tony calls out. "Bruce – hey –," but he doesn't finish, because before him, is not Bruce. It's Hulk. And being shocked by the Falcon falling from the sky, he's stressed. He's mad.

You shove the rest of your bagel into your mouth, and against of running the opposite way, like someone else might, you don't do that. You run toward where the Avengers are retreating, stopping only when Pietro catches your wrist, holding you back.

"You cannot, you need to go," he tells you.

You shake your head. "I've studied his cells, he's as human as he is Bruce Banner when he is Hulk," you tell the speedster. "He's just green, and frightened." You shake your hand from his grip, and slowly this time, walk toward where the Hulk is.

"_________," Tony warns.

You shake your head, and in a firm tone with a hard edge, you say, "Let me."

Hearing your voice, the Hulk turns to you. He's taller than you remember seeing last time you had observed him for your scientific analysis, but that's probably because you're about one hundred times closer than the minimum safe distance from him. Teeth gritted, he huffs, fist formed, arm raised.

"Hey, Hulk," you smile, sitting down on the grass. "It's _________. You know me, I'm a scientist. I work with your friend, Bruce." You're slow in every movement, treating the green beast before you like you would a deer or any other wild animal. "I just want to talk with you."

Tony's silent. Dumbfounded. From what you can see, he's got a weird look on his face, like talking to the Hulk won't fix a thing about the current situation. But against his judgement, your request is heard by the green big guy, and he seats himself down, opposite you.

"You want to talk?" he says, voice deep and rumbling, much like thunder.

You nod. "Yeah, about, uh, our friend Bruce. He's very smart." You say.

Hulk agrees, "Yes. You are...smart too."

You smile, "Thank you, Hulk," you push your hands into the grass, and noticing a stray purple flower growing in the grass, you pluck it from the earth. Even if it is a weed, you don't care. You hold it out to Hulk, and say, "I heard you like purple."

His hands are big, but still, he manages to take the flower from you, and holding it, he inspects the gift. "Pretty."

You nod. "Yeah, pretty," you echo, "When I was a little girl, I noticed that people aren't very nice to things that aren't pretty." You tell the Hulk, and taking a deep breath, you add, "I wasn't very pretty when I was younger. But I knew that I was worth something even though not everyone valued me."

"_________ is pretty," Hulk tells you, tucking the flower behind his ear.

You laugh at that. "Thanks, Hulk. No, I know that now. It's just...I wanted you to know that you're not just what the Avengers have you on the team for, to me." You're quiet, and add, "Hulk, our friend Bruce...he's still learning that all of him is pretty. Like I learned when I was younger."

Tony blinks, unsure of what's going on.

Hulk is silent for a moment, considering what you're saying. "What..."

Slowly, you pick yourself from the ground, and walking toward the Hulk, climb upon his leg, walking toward where his bare chest is. "Inside here, and outside too, you're pretty. All of you, and all of Bruce Banner." You place your hand upon where his heart is, and under his thick skin, you feel where his heartbeat is, fast, strong, but when you look to him, it slows, calming. "It's okay."

He nods.

Hours later, after more talking, you're left with Bruce Banner in half-shredded shorts, and the team wondering what exactly happened. You help him inside, and going the extra mile, make sure that after he eats the nightly meal, he does all the regular things before going to sleep. But when you're in your grass-stained jeans and plaid shirt, Bruce is in his pinstripe pyjamas, toothbrush in mouth, he spits the toothpaste, and asks a question.

"Did you really mean what you said back there?" He asks.

You nod, holding your arms close to your chest, "Yeah. All of it."

A pink tinge covers his cheeks. "I'm pretty."

Tony puts Peter to bed, and turns to Steve in the loungeroom of their suit, absolutely exhausted after the day, and the occurrence that happened during training earlier. Steve is wearing his Iron Man boxers, and a holey old Dodgers shirt that belongs in a museum, and is flicking through different TV stations that have equally boring shows on. As Tony sits, he turns the screen off, and faces the other man.

"How much meddling did you do to get those two together?" Steve asks.

Tony grins.