marvel cinematic university: freshers assemble || mcu

3: Hulk Out

The Ranch, a usually quiet establishment at the edge of the campus, was now heaving with students from all blocks and flats; all desperate to earn the necessary number of stamps to 'level up'.

Bruce had managed to find some form of breathing space close to the bar. It was the second night out of the week, his second night out ever, and he was... well, he was exhausted! With one hand on the bar for support, he struggled to free his wallet from his makeshift bedspread toga. 

"Need a hand there?" He spun around to find Natasha stood behind him, looking almost like an incarnation of Aphrodite in her own specially-purchased toga and with her curly hair tied up.

He gulped: "Good, thanks. Would you- would you like a drink?" 

She shook her head, a few stray curls coming loose.

"You look like you need it more," she had to shout just to be heard above the general din. "Did you sleep at all today?"

Truthfully, he had not. He had finished the night before, propped over Thor's shoulder and clutching a traffic cone, at six; only to wake up two hours later for a shower and then an introductory tour of the labs. Then a whole numbers of talks followed, finishing at six just in time for him to return to the flat, grab some dinner, make a costume and start pre-drinking. 

"I know just what you need," she said, waving the bartender over, before passing the drink to Bruce. He only looked at the liquid dubiously. "It's only vodka and Red Bull. It'll wake you up." 

"No, but thank you though," he said, nearly jumping out of his skin as the bartender leant over the bar and stamped him on the arm. "I don't really drink caffeine."

"You'll have to if you want to survive this week," she responded, accepting her own drink and stamp. "Bottoms up!" 

Bruce hesitated, but then drunk it all the same, wincing at the concoction's strength, but almost instantly feeling the benefits. He turned, refreshed, to Natasha, only to find Clint behind her. 

"You ok?" he said to his other flatmate, careful to make his lip movements clear. 

Clint only grinned in response, raising his toy bow and pretending to shoot down a few nearby students- all of his arrows had long since been lost on the way from pre-drinks to the first bar of the night. With his own toga and laurel crown, and of course with his bow and quiver, Bruce could not help but imagine Clint as the god, Apollo. Beside him, her face illuminated in the bar's strobe lighting, Bruce could no longer see Aphrodite in Natasha. With her coy smile turned towards her friend and a determined glint in her eyes, Natasha looked more huntress than lover: an Artemis, bonded almost at the hip to her Apollo. Bruce started at that, shaking his head. Wait, weren't they twin gods?

"You alright, Bruce?" Blinking, Bruce realised that he must have been staring a little too hard at the couple before him.

"I'm fine," he said, hastily knocking back his drink. "Is that Tony over there? I'll just go and-" And, with that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two alone to their own drinks.

********************************

Slumped over the kitchen table, Bruce could only pray for a quick death and not for the compulsory fire safety talks that were due to start in less than an hour. 

"Kill me," he mumbled into the table's plastic coating, to whomever had just walked into the kitchen. 

"I'd make it quick," came Natasha's response, "but then again, your pain is kinda amusing."

Bruce sat up quickly, instantly regretting his decision to do so. In comparison, with a similar lack of hours asleep, Natasha looked far better for her own night out. Hair washed and tied up in a messy red bun, she began grabbing food from her cupboard, whistling as she went; the only evidence for her night out being the faded stamp marks on her arm.