VII's 12 Days of Winter Writing

Day 8: Setting - Quinjet

"I can't believe you," Bruce muttered, his nose an inch away from Natasha's stomach wound. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

They were just the two of them on the Quinjet, after Natasha got him to partner with her for her mission. Partnering being patching her up after.

"I don't do it to myself," the spy retorted. "The people I fight do it to me."

"You go on the fights," he reminded her.

"Then take it up with Nick," Nat said. She winced as Bruce tugged the needle through her skin. "Ow."

Bruce sighed. "And this is why I keep telling you to take a break every now and then. I'll only be available for so long, Natasha. Soon enough, Tony'll release me from my vacation time."

"Then let me hire you," Nat replied, leaning forwards as Bruce approached her back with antiseptic wipes. "Be my personal doctor."

Bruce chuckled. "I'm pretty sure I already do that."

"But officially!" Natasha laughed as the cold wipes touched an uninjured part of her skin. "I need my personal doctor to be on call and not next to Tony making murderbots!"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "One time."

Nat turned to him with pleading eyes. "Please? For me?" She batted her eyelashes.

"You're being ridiculous," Bruce laughed.

Natasha kept her eyes on him as he walked back in front of her. "Just consider it."

"Fine," he sighed. "But I'd rather you put me out of work by not being hurt."

Nat rolled her eyes. "You know I can't do that."

Bruce exhaled and kneeled down to the spy's hanging foot.

"Sprain?" she asked.

"Yep." He stood up. "Like it or not, doctor's orders, you are going on sick leave."

Natasha frowned. "How about no."

"How about you either take the leave now and keep it short," Bruce said, "or take a half-year leave after you inevitably exceed your limit and crash from the sky, Icarus?"

"You did not just call me Icarus."

"I did."

Natasha sighed. "But there are things to do!"

"Like rest," Bruce said sternly. "Or I'll be recommending a different doctor for you."

Natasha mock-gasped. "Now, don't be hasty."

"Rest."

"Do I have to?"

"Absolutely."

Nat pouted.

Bruce sighed. "How about I stay with you on your leave? Will that make you happy? Will you go on leave?"

Natasha brightened. "Yes." She grinned, hopping off the examination table against Bruce's protests. "A Bruce Banner vacation."

"Yay." He tried shepherding her back on the table to no avail.

Nat hip-checked him playfully. "Sit down."

Bruce chuckled. "I'm not the patient here," he said.

"I'm getting us drinks." Nat turned. "Unless you don't want me to have a drink with you."

"I didn't say that."

Natasha grinned and grabbed her thermos. She went back and poured them a cup. "I only have one cup."

"We can share," Bruce said. He smelled the tea. "Chamomile?"

"Yeah."

They sat in a silence while they slowly drained the thermos.

"What do you want to do on your leave?" Bruce asked her.

Natasha smiled. "You."

Bruce groaned. "Not what I meant, Natasha," he muttered into his hands.

Nat laughed. "The look on your face."

"You're not serious."

"On the contrary, if we're using the fancy words," Natasha deadpanned. "But I digress. Do you like cheesecake?"

Bruce spluttered. "You can't– you can't just–" he sighed. "Yeah, if it's the good kind of cheesecake."

Natasha smiled at him over the rim of the cup. She poured out a new cup and handed it to him.

The sunlight filtered through the Quinjet windows as they flew by the sunset.

"You look handsome with the light hitting your face like that," she commented off-handedly.

Bruce choked. "What– sorry–" he coughed a few times. "What?!"

Nat shrugged. "You looked nice and it deserved to be said. What?" she asked when Bruce just looked at her.

"Nothing," Bruce sighed. "Has it ever occurred to you that you flirt a lot?"

Natasha thought for a moment. "Just with you. With everyone else, not really." She toasted a new cup to Bruce's stunned face. "What, you thought I did this with everyone?"

"I–" he frowned. "If not, then why me?"

Natasha got that 'you've-got-to-be-kidding-me' look on her face. "Oh my god," she muttered. She looked up, straight into Bruce's eyes. "Dr. Banner, has it ever occurred to you that there's a reason why people flirt?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah. They–" a look of realization dawned on him. "Ohh." He blinked and looked between them. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'," Natasha huffed.

Bruce stared at her. "Um."

"Yeah?" Nat asked resignedly.

"I... I reciprocate."

Natasha looked skeptical. "Do you?"

Bruce swallowed. "Yeah." He hesitated before steeling himself. He leaned forwards about five degrees. "Can I–"

Natasha closed the rest of the distance and kissed him softly. She pulled away and smirked at Bruce's look of frozen surprise.

"– ask you on a date?" he finished, a little lamely.

Nat smiled at him. "Sure."

Bruce blinked. "Okay." His eyes darted around the Quinjet.

"Okay." Natasha laughed again. "I've got to say, uh, I thought you'd be less shocked."

Bruce ducked his head. "Yeah, I haven't really gone out... much. Not since Betty. And that was a long time ago. I've forgotten how to date, actually."

Nat smiled at him, tugging at his collar. "We can fix that," she promised. "Now, about our vacation. What do you think, Mexico or someplace even farther away?"