Chapter Text
Clint wasn’t quite as good at keeping his distance as he thought. She could hear him behind the door. Her space was scent proofed, but he had been inside, drenched in her scent, and he didn’t stay as unaffected as he might have thought. Natashas heat was longer than the normal three days, maybe if it had been shorter his walls wouldn’t have crumbled so easily, but when he was standing there on the fourth morning, eyes glazed over, arms up in surrender, she had no willpower left, nothing left to resist with when he started begging, telling her that they have helped each other out so many times before, and that he could see that she was hurting, and that she could use him, if she wanted to. How could she not let him in?
There were no words, only gasps, between them as she pounced on him, dragging her teeth over his little beta scent gland, ran her fingers through his hair and pushed him down on the bed. He laid there, moaning, his hands on her body, and even if he wasn’t what she needed, his scent almost non-existent, her body still sang at the prospect of being touched. His cock didn't give her anything close to what she needed, but her heat was almost over, and it rubbed sweetly on her swollen, raw insides. When he was twitching and coming, she did too. For a moment, she was satisfied. Then the guilt hit her instead, and she looked down at the discoloured marks she's left on his neck, the scratches and destroyed clothes from when she ripped them off to get to his skin.
"Sorry," she said, and Clint said it was fine, but wasn't quite looking at her when he slunk out of her room.
They got through it, they always did, but after, when she was back to her normal self, she seriously thought about building a hatch or something. The second heat, she knew what to expect and stocked up on enough supplies to get through at least a week on her own.
"You keep out of here," Natasha told Clint.
"It wasn't that bad," he persisted, but did not object.
The next three days were horrible. She felt unbalanced, she wanted to crawl out of her skin, she had nightmares where she became a spider and the men who had licked her dry, their heads dancing around her singing judgmentally and as she woke up the desire was still there, burning, and she thrashed and screamed, not sure what was dream or reality.
The other avengers were clearly uncomfortable, not sure what to say or do around her after hearing Natasha scream her lungs out for a week straight. Even out of heat, she had briefed them, begrudgingly warned them that she can make them feel sluggish and homely, which made Fury ground her until the heats were over and she can take the suppressors again. Natasha was miserable, spending all day in the sparring rooms in the basement, going through her routines like a mantra. Bruce was always there before her, doing yoga. A couple of weeks later, she had to ask.
"Is it any good?” she said. “Yoga? For managing... you know, the Hulk?"
Natasha could tell Bruce was so shy talking to her, even after everything that has happened. He offered to teach her some breathing techniques, and she agreed. To her surprise, she liked it. It was against everything she had been taught so far, making her relax in a new way. With that she might be able to control herself, even during her heats.
Eating with the other’s, she noticed she still had that effect on people and accepted that whether she feels more in control, she was not ready for battle yet. Just the thought of having a couple of horny boys surrounding her in the middle of a fight made her shudder.
Bruce kept helping her control and never missed a meeting, even on his bad days when he did yoga with a constant frown on his face, slamming himself angrily forwards into the downwards dog.
“Whoa”, Natasha said, “grumpy much?”
“I'm just so damn tired, and I can't get angry,” Bruce muttered.
He stopped and took a couple of deep breaths and then he hit his fist into the soft floor. When she twitched, he got a worried guilty look on his face.
"Sorry", he apologised, "I just feel so trapped sometimes, shut up in here."
She nodded and then she had an idea. She moved close to Bruce so the security wouldn't hear them.
"Let's just leave?" she said. "The vents are free of cameras."
He looked like he was going to say no, that it's a bad idea, and then nodded, almost undetectable.
“Right now?” he breathed, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes.
“Right now.”
They got up, she in her pink yoga pants and he in a hoodie and shorts. She seized him up and then they were off, the women’s locker room vents, a few moments of crawling and then they were on the busy streets of New York.
They decided to speak German to not draw as much attention, and that the word for suspected detection was cinnamon bun. Natasha loved being outside and they just strolled towards Brooklyn, passing stores that sold t-shirts with their faces on them. Nobody recognises them though. They buy ice cream near City Hall and sit down in Battery Park. Bruce was smiling with his whole face, she knew he could hear better than her with his super senses and if neither of them could detect a threat, it means they are pretty much safe for now.
"I can't remember the last time I just did nothing for a whole day, " Bruce said. "Before the Hulk I was all about grades and scholarships and doctorates, and after, well, I always felt unsafe. Not now though. Not around you."
He looked at her and smiled, totally relaxed, before blushing and turning away.
"Sorry, that sounded so cheesy, I'm going to shut up now."
Natasha liked when he grinned goofily, the Hulk not directly under his skin. It was a good look on him.
"Don't ever apologise for being happy," she said, smiling back until he makes eye contact with her again.
Too late she noticed how close he leaned toward her on the bench, his chin touching her shoulder as he sighed, placing his hand on the bench close to her thigh. She knew she should pull away, but she liked having the omega close, she wanted to protect him, keep him safe and happy. So even if some voice in the back of her head shouted warnings at her, probably the assassin training, her instincts overrode them and she moved her body to cover his, letting him nuzzle closer into her neck and scent her, and gods if it wasn't sending shivers down her spine to know that he was so close to her, that wonderful genius humble man. He sighed and it was like they were the only people in the world.
Then, a familiar shape shadowed them and made her assassin brain roll into gear.
"Cinnamonbun," she said, softly.
Bruce blinks and quickly untangled from her.
Coulson took off his glasses and gave them a stern look.
"Widow. Hulk," he said, using their aliases as he only did when he was mad and was on the brink of almost losing his temper. It meant he was really worried, so Natasha just shrugged and smiled sweetly.
"Guess you found us, Phil," she admits without a fight and gives Bruce a squeeze before standing up. “Reported it yet?”
“Only the Avengers are aware of your absence today and they didn't seem as worried as me about a deadly assassin and a gamma monster disappearing from the Tower..."
Too late he realized his choice of words. Natasha stood up fluidly and moved closer to Coulson, her face still a mask of pleasantness, an inch from his.
"Never call Bruce a monster again," she carefully articulated in her indifferent tone. "If I hear you say that one more time I will find you and I will skin you."
Coulson gave her a bland smile, not flinching an inch. He had used those exact words to defend her, a long time ago. She did not intimidate him then, and he knew the words weren't for him. They only confirmed his suspicions regarding the nature of the two Avenger’s relationship.
"I understand," Coulson frowned. "Let's get back."
Bruce didn't quite look at her on the way back, or in the next few weeks. He did his yoga somewhere else or not at all. Without him, Natasha couldn't focus. Her skin prickled in a very particular and annoying way and since she still was off the team she soon felt trapped again. Eventually she couldn't take it anymore and went to find Bruce one evening.
"I need you to do yoga with me again," she said as she entered his lab . His scent was everywhere and she has to push down the need to protect him, to hold him close. "It's getting really annoying not being able to focus, and you are much more experienced with..."
He turned and her instincts turned ablaze. He had dark rings under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in days, and he was breathing heavily. Still in control, like he had to be.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, shifting in his lab coat, "I think I have to stay away from you for a while, until your condition improves. Your hormones affect me, I don't know if it is healthy for me to be around you. It might draw out the Hulk."
Natasha wanted to cry but she knew her face was an indifferent mask as she nodded.
“Of course, Bruce,” she said, “I understand.”
Clint found her in her room, he kept his distance but asked where she was when they spent the day away from the Tower.
“We just walked around a bit. Sightseeing. I wish I could go back on suppressors and not be so emotional all the fucking time.”
Clint shushes, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“What else did you do?” he said. “Something must have happened, I’ve never seen you like this.”
“It was just... nice.” she said. “We talked a lot, and...”
Suddenly she realized, her face fell and she groaned.
“Fuck... He scented me.”
Clint whistled. “Oh man.”
“Yeah. He’s right, he should definitely stay away.”
Natasha looked down at her knees, tucked them under her chin. “Everyone should.”
“Hey,” Clint said, soothingly, reaching out for her.
“Probably you too. Are you in control?”
He stilled, an inch from her shoulder. “I…”
Natasha sighed. “Just go.”