Chapter Text
This Banner guy looks cute when he sleeps. Way cuter than he had back at the Tower, and younger, too, probably because he no longer has huge bags under his eyes or worry lines set around his mouth and brow. He looks peaceful. And very, very puppy-ish.
The weird thing is, she can still see her Hulk. The giant green face she knows is there in bits and pieces, stretched out over softer, more normal proportions. And the hair is the same—well, nearly. If anything it’s gotten even floofier-looking, and the urge to comb her fingers through it is something Darcy has to consciously fight every second.
“I admit, when you told me about him I was expecting some thin-haired, pinch-faced guy with steepled fingers and an old black velvet suit,” Jane says, and Darcy turns to give her a pointed look. “What? You made him out to be this creepy guy lurking in the shadows, locking Hulk in cages. Memories of Vincent Price movies filled in the blanks.”
“Okay, wow,” Darcy says, eyebrows still flying high. “I’m not even sure how to respond to that. Congratulations.”
Jane grins, then goes wide-eyed and jumps, because there’s a rustling sound coming from the bed. Darcy’s head whips back around and for a second she seriously regrets not tying him up and keeping a frying pan around to threaten him, “Tangled” style.
The far-too-fluffy Dr. Banner is waking up, but slowly, and Darcy hates herself a little for enjoying the way his muscles stretch and shift under his skin during the process. Also, his yawn is unfairly adorable, but that seems about par for the course at this point. Darcy makes a mental note to start brainstorming cute nicknames, because this guy is in desperate need of one. Seriously, Bruce? That’s like having a teddy bear named Rambo.
“Good morning, starshine,” Darcy says, watching him closely. “The Earth says hello.”
Dr. Banner freezes at that, and his eyes fly open. Darcy tries and fails not to find his afraid and bewildered expression too endearing.
“You’ve been out for hours,” Darcy says, because after a minute or so of awkward silence and staring from the guy, she’s getting worried. “And you didn’t smash anything. Well, nothing important, anyway.” Stark probably has to replace windows, like, bi-weekly anyway, so it’s totally not a big deal. “Your pants are in shreds, by the way, but I can lend you sweatpants or something.”
“Um,” he says, still staring at her, and fuck, she knows she kind of messed up by kicking him in the balls, but come on.
“Sorry for booting you in the ‘nads yesterday,” Darcy says, because that needed airing out anyway.
“I, uh,” Dr. Banner says, blinking rapidly before falling back against the pillows and pulling a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m normally much more eloquent, sorry,” he says, and wow, his voice is actually kind of sweet. It’s like warm soup, or melty chocolate cake. Which is quite nice, actually. Darcy wouldn’t mind hearing more of that.
“You had a late night,” Darcy offers, and immediately regrets it because he turns to give her that look, the look she knows very well from college—the did-we-have-the-sex-together look. To his credit, Banner then defies expectation by bringing his hand back up to cover the top half of his face instead of looking down at her rack to try and remember if he’s seen it naked.
“Oh, god, sorry,” he mutters. “That was—sorry. Really.” He takes a deep breath, exhales. “That was really, really out of line, and I’m really sorry.”
After a moment of heavily awkward where-the-fuck-do-we-go-from-here silence, Jane ducks out of the room. Darcy forgives her, because she’d probably do the same. Third-wheeling is no fun, and Darcy knows this because recently Thor has taken to revisiting Earth, and coming to see Jane when he does so. Darcy has sat through far too many take-out dinners of Jane and Thor making googly eyes at each other across the table. Far too many.
“So,” Darcy says, because she’s starting to feel like a third wheel herself in this Banner/awkwardness/Darcy threeway, “do you ever remember stuff from when you’re Hulk?”
Banner’s lips draw into a thin line under the shade of his hand. “Not always. Bits and pieces filter through sometimes.”
“Hmm.” And, here’s a thought—“Do you ever see me?”
His hand drops, and his eyes are doing a weird melty thing to Darcy’s insides that she doesn’t think she likes. Or doesn’t think she should like. Either way. “Sometimes,” he says, quietly.
Darcy is confused, and also possibly very much turned on. That, combined with a prolonged silence, is enough to completely shut down her brain-mouth filters.
“We’ve got leftover waffles,” she says. “Lots of waffles. Big ones, with grid patterns on them. Also syrup. Lots of syrup. Thor loves syrup, so we always have like two gallons of it on hand. We even have different flavors, I think. Oh, and there’s Pop-Tarts, and I think we have cereal, and probably some kind of fruit because Jane likes to think we eat healthy food, and we might have granola bars or something because the only way to get Jane to eat something when she’s in the lab is if it’s in a shiny wrapper, and there’s orange juice in the fridge I think and also we might have that sample packet of instant granola lying around somewhere too.”
Banner’s still staring at her, looking distant and intently focused at the same time.
“Or eggs.”
“I’m a vegetarian,” he says.
“Okay,” Darcy says, squirreling that away as the first thing she knows about him. ...Well, the first thing she’s learned in person, anyway. Google is her friend, and it’s amazing how much you can learn in one night. Darcy realizes she would probably be considered a stalker in some circles for doing an extensive Google-search on a guy she doesn’t know, and chooses to give no fucks. She’s practically dating his alter-ego. That has to count for something.
“I’d like to take you up on that offer for sweatpants, now.”
“Okay.”