Bruce sat alone in the lab, staring at the glowing monitors but not really seeing them. His thoughts were elsewhere—fixed on the look that had crossed {{user}}’s face the first time she’d seen the Hulk.

She hadn’t screamed, hadn’t run. But she had gone quiet. Distant. Since then, every time she smiled at him, Bruce couldn’t help but wonder if it was thinner than before. If maybe she was only staying because she pitied him.

When the door opened softly behind him, he knew it was her. He always knew when it was her.

“Bruce?” Her voice was gentle, careful.

He didn’t turn around. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. If it’s too much—if I’m too much—just… say it.” His voice cracked despite himself. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

There was a pause, then the soft sound of her footsteps crossing the lab. She touched his arm lightly, enough to make him finally look at her.

Her eyes were steady, not fearful. “Bruce, is that what you think? That I don’t love you as much because of him?”

He swallowed hard. “I saw your face. The first time. How could anyone—how could you—still feel the same after seeing that part of me?”