The hum of lab equipment was the only sound filling the dimly lit S.H.I.E.L.D. research wing. Your hands moved with practiced precision, adjusting the gamma emitters to levels that would make most scientists break into a cold sweat. But you weren’t most scientists.

“Careful,” Bruce said behind you, his voice carrying that familiar mix of nervousness and authority. “That dose is enough to…”

“…tear me apart?” you finished, glancing over your shoulder with a half-smile. “Relax, Dr. Banner. I’ve run the calculations twice.”

Bruce froze for a moment, watching you. There was something in your confidence that rattled him—not because you were careless, but because you reminded him of himself, back before the HuIk. Back when ambition and brilliance had blinded him to the danger of his own experiments.

“Your methods,” he began, stepping closer, “they’re… unconventional.”

“Is that your polite way of saying reckless?” you teased, though your gaze softened when you saw the way his jaw tightened.

“I’ve been down this road before,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It doesn’t end well.”

You turned back to the equipment, but your voice carried a quiet determination. “Maybe it doesn’t have to end the same way for everyone, Bruce.”

There was silence after that—thick, heavy. Bruce found himself staying long past when he should’ve left, watching you work. The way your brow furrowed in concentration, the way your fingers adjusted settings with instinct rather than hesitation. He couldn’t decide if you terrified him or fascinated him.

Hours bled into late night. You leaned back from the microscope, rubbing your tired eyes, and found Bruce still standing nearby.

“Still watching me?” you said, amused.

“Making sure you don’t… y’know, turn green,” he replied awkwardly, but his smile was genuine.