the team doctor || bucky barnes (EDITING IN PROGRESS)

1.

Edited 8/26/25

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴏɴɢ: ʏʟᴀɴɢ ʏʟᴀɴɢ - ꜰᴋᴊ, (((ᴏ)))

"𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞."

~

"HOLD STILL,"

Bruce Banner squirmed in his seat, his eyes fixed on the largest syringe he'd ever seen. The sterile light overhead gleamed off the metal, exaggerating its length until it felt less like medical equipment and more like a weapon. The cold kiss of the needle broke his skin. A sharp pinch bloomed in his bicep, enough to make him wince. His eyes squeezed shut—but just as quickly, he forced them open again, steadying his breath.

"Hey," he exhaled, half a laugh, half relief. "That wasn't too bad."

Valerie's smile softened the edge of the moment. She pressed a neat bandage over the red dot of irritation, her hands efficient, practiced. "Told you—it's only a pinch," she said, her voice light as she snapped off her gloves and reached for the sanitizer.

Bruce rolled his sleeve down, flexing the arm as if testing it already. "Do me a favor, will you?" His tone was conspiratorial, almost boyish. "Don't tell the others I was nervous."

Valerie straightened, schooling her face into mock seriousness. "Doctor-patient confidentiality," she vowed, raising two fingers in a playful salute.

Bruce chuckled, the tension breaking—but only for a moment.

"Rest the arm for twenty-four hours," Valerie instructed, her tone slipping back into clinical precision. "After that, you're clear for training. But Bruce?"

He paused on the step down from the table, glancing back.

Her gaze was sharp now, cutting through the levity. "If anything feels off—even the smallest thing—you note it immediately. This is still experimental. The second it turns, we pull the plug. No hesitation."

Bruce Banner was the single test subject for a new serum that aimed to subdue the effects of his counterpart and hopefully would allow him to control the transitions. He had been getting weekly shots for eight weeks, varying in doses, to see which chemicals worked best.

"Of course, Dr. Harris."

Valerie held up a hand with a smile. "Again—Valerie is just fine."

Bruce gave her a small nod before slipping out of the cramped room that passed for her lab.

The contrast was always jarring. Avengers Tower soared over Manhattan, steel and glass stretching endlessly, yet her corner of it was tucked away in a windowless chamber lined with filing cabinets, monitors, and the faint chemical tang of antiseptic.

Valerie Harris had been working for Tony Stark for almost a year now. Hired the moment he'd devoured her PhD journals at twenty-two, she quickly found her role... ambiguous. She patched up cuts and bruises, managed routine checkups, stitched when necessary, assessed minds as much as bodies, and conducted classified research projects that even SHIELD hadn't touched.

She called herself "the team doctor." Tony just called her indispensable.

"FRIDAY," she said as she scrawled her last notes, "set a reminder to check in with Bruce in seventy-two hours."

"Of course, Dr. Harris."

"It's Valerie, FRIDAY." She rolled her eyes with a faint laugh.

The AI didn't reply.

She slid her leather notebook into the vibranium cabinet Tony had installed for her, double-locked it, and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder. The grey corridors hummed with faint electricity as she keyed into the elevator, her reflection briefly flickering in the polished steel doors.

When she'd agreed to live in the tower, she'd balked at the idea of residing only two floors below the Avengers themselves. Tony had waved it off. Missions don't have business hours. If Cap sprains his wrist at four a.m., you're there. Can't lose the shield hand.

To compromise, she was placed on a different floor—smelling faintly of metal and dust, surrounded by utility closets and locked doors. Sometimes she heard the muffled crash of laughter from two stories above—where Earth's Mightiest Heroes lived practically on top of one another.

She had grown used to the odd balance of intimacy and distance.

Valerie had always been... different. Awkward, accelerated. The sixteen-year-old sitting at the front of graduate seminars, silently enduring the glares of older students who hated that she outpaced them. Most kids her age considered her too intimidating to talk to, and the people in higher-level education turned their noses at her. "It'll even out when you're grown," her advisors had promised.

But at twenty-seven, it hadn't. Not really. She still felt on the fringes.

The Avengers, however, never made her feel like an outsider. If anything, they embraced her. Steve's old-fashioned kindness, Wanda's warmth in a world full of men with too much ego, even Clint's sarcastic jabs—they all treated her like she belonged. These people were all different, just like her. Some of them could control things with their minds. Or sustain a fall from a 100-foot building. Or turn into a gigantic green rage-machine.

In fact, the team had taken to her almost immediately. Within weeks she was being pulled into their so-called "little get-togethers"—which, in her opinion, happened far more often than anyone on Earth's Mightiest Team could reasonably justify.

Her phone buzzed in her bag, snapping her back. She fished out Stark's sleek encrypted model.

Team meeting tomorrow at 10am. –GBPP

She smirked. Tony never failed to sign off with Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist.

Her apartment door clicked open, and she let herself sink into the quiet. The space was small, neat, lived-in—an oasis after long days under fluorescent lights. She tugged off her cardigan, chose pasta for dinner, and poured a glass of wine.

Her days were incredibly long, but she immensely enjoyed her job. She had endless access to Tony's technology and research equipment, which no university or laboratory in the country could compete with. It was an adjustment, though—the first time she saw her face in the tabloids announcing a new addition to the team was a huge shock to her. After reassurance from the team, she was able to put her mind at ease...and mainly stay out of streets littered with photographers trying to get a picture.

By the time the water boiled, she had her notes spread across the counter, mind circling Bruce's serum like a hawk searching for prey. What was missing? What hadn't clicked? She hummed absently, letting her thoughts wander to tomorrow's meeting. Another mission briefing, maybe. Or maybe something trivial—last week, Tony had assembled the entire team to announce they were switching to one-ply toilet paper.

The uproar had been immediate, and the debate derailed into whether Vision, technically, was entitled to a vote. The memory made her chuckle as she poured penne into the bubbling pot.

Life in the Tower was chaos. But it was comfortable chaos. Familiar.

And she had no idea how quickly that comfort was about to shatter.

~

A/N: HI IK THIS WAS BORING BUT GOTTA SET THE STAGE FOR YALL! NEXT CHAP WE GET TO MEET THE TEEEEAMMM

what do u guys think about the avengies having a perpetual sleepover?

who do u think lives there?

thanks for reading!