A/N: Just a fluffy plot bunny that hopped through my brain the other day, set sometime after The Winter Soldier and Age of Ultron. Enjoy!

"And that's the only thing I've heard since-" Maria Hill's phone buzzed-her personal cell, not her office line-and, after her eyes drifted from Natasha to the screen. "Sorry, I should take this. It's Stark."

"I'll give you some privacy," Natasha said, but as she started to push up from the chair across the former SHIELD commander's desk, Maria caught her with a look as she spoke, pointedly, into her phone.

"With all due respect, Mr. Stark, that's not really so much a job for HR as for a PA."

Raising an eyebrow, Natasha said in a low voice: "Pepper's out of town?"

Not that Pepper did that sort of thing anymore, as CEO of Stark Industries. But Tony did this sort of thing when she was away and he was bored. Though how he could be bored with whatever the hell he and Bruce were working on obsessively in the lab, she didn't know. Some kind of robot. They were being very top-secret about it, although if Natasha had really tried to figure it out, she was sure she could have.

Mouthing West Coast, Maria put the phone on speaker just in time for Natasha to hear Tony say, "-had this personal assistant a few years ago. Name was Natalie."

He knew she'd dropped in to pay Maria a visit, then. If her whole life weren't already a google away for everyone on earth, Natasha might be miffed about signing her privacy away to enter the Tower.

"Ordering carryout was one of her many skills," Tony rattled on. "Although, come to think of it, some of those were pretend."

"That one definitely was," Natasha said, leaning slightly toward the desk so Tony could hear her on Maria's phone.

"Damn." She could imagine Tony's scowl on the other end of the line, brows drawing together before his expression changed abruptly. "Hey, Natasha."

"Hey, Tony."

"Wanna come up for lunch with Banner and me? We're having shawarma brought in. Or we would have, if Ms. Hill had cooperated."

Maria didn't even dignify that with an eyeroll as she swiveled back to her computer.

"From that place where we ate after the battle?" Natasha asked.

"Uh, you mean that palace. Shawarma Palace."

"Thanks, but I've eaten." She was lying. She could actually go for lunch.

"You're lying," said Tony. "God, Romanoff, you never used to be this easy to read. And over the phone."

Now it was Maria looking at Natasha with raised eyebrows.

"Why would I lie about eating?" asked Natasha, annoyed to be called out even about something this stupid. Maybe that was why it was annoying.

"The appropriate genuine response to, We're having shawarma would be, Oh no, I just ate…but how can I pass up the world's best shawarma? Just get me a small one."

Natasha shook her head. "It wasn't that amazing."

"Heresy!"

"I mean, it was okay, when we were starving and too exhausted to taste anything. But I've had better."

"No." She could visualize Tony's rapid shake of his head. "No, you haven't. You're lacking in taste, and unworthy of Shawarma Palace."

The call ended.

Natasha handed the phone across the desk to Maria. "How soon does Pepper get back?"

"Not soon enough."

"I won't keep you from your work," said Natasha, getting up.

But, she thought, smiling a little as she stepped into the elevator outside the Human Resources department, she might go keep Bruce from his.

In the lab, she found Bruce so intent on a screen of 3D renderings, forehead puckered between his brows, hair raked between his fingers, that he didn't even appear to notice her entrance. She couldn't decide if that made her want to disturb his concentration more, or less. Tuning out was an art form with Bruce; or, if it wasn't before, he'd honed it since he came to work with Tony.

Who, currently, was on the phone, placing an order for shawarma. "The usual for me. And for Dr. Banner, as well."

Or maybe Bruce wasn't really tuning out? At his name, his hand went still on the screen, the fingers of the other clutched his hair, his mouth and eyebrows drew almost imperceptibly tighter.

"None for you, though."

Tony's pointed tone redirected her attention to him, to his eyes boring into her from across the lab.

"You don't just insult Shawarma Palace and then waltz into my lab expecting forgiveness and free lunch. I'm talking to Natasha," he addressed the person at the other end of the line again. They must have asked who Natasha was, because Tony clarified, "Romanoff. Yeah. Black Widow. No no, don't trouble yourself. You're very sweet, but you know. Like her namesake, she prefers blood. Just goes to show, you can't please all the Avengers all the time."

"Take it from someone with a lot of experience," Natasha muttered, and from Bruce's workstation came a snort. She glanced at him, saw that although his brow was still furrowed above his glasses, he released his hair, which left it a little Einstein-like, and his lips pulled slightly upward on one side.

She wasn't the only one to notice these subtle changes in his demeanor.

"But yes," Tony breezed on. "Keeping the Hulk happy is very important. As his lab partner, I fully agree."

Another snort from Bruce, only this time there was a little more of a growl in it, and the corner of his mouth tugged down again. The distance, and the reflected colors of the screen on his glasses, made it impossible to tell whether any green flecks brightened the dark irises of his eyes. Natasha moved a little closer to his workstation.

"Okay. See you in ten."

Tony ended the call, grabbed a black leather jacket from the back of his chair, slinging it on as he strode past Bruce's workstation without a second glance at him or Natasha.

"You picking up today?" asked Bruce, looking around the edge of his screen.

"Uh-huh. I can't be in the same room as that shawarma hater right now. See if you can talk some sense into her, will you Banner?"

"I don't think that's really how food preferences work..."

But Tony was already out the door, and it clicked shut behind him.

Alone, Bruce turned back to his screen, and Natasha thought he meant to take advantage of the rare silent work environment while Tony was out of the lab, but as she hitched her bag on her shoulder, she noticed he was, in fact, closing whatever he'd been working on.

"So…" He peered at her over the rims of his glasses which had slipped down his nose. "You insulted Shawarma Palace?"

"I said I've had better."

"I have, too." Bruce gave her a smile which widened when she returned it. "Tony, though…he's obsessed."

"Yet you and Tony both have a usual."

"Well, yeah…" His smile faltered a little. "He orders, like, every day when Pepper's not here. She's trying to get him doing this low cal, low carb, vegetarian thing."

Natasha wasn't about to let him change the subject. "Why don't you just tell Tony you don't want shawarma?"

"Oh, I don't doubt that he knows I don't want shawarma. I doubt that he cares."

Natasha tilted her head, acquiescing to his point; she doubted it, too.

"Going along with him ensures a non-hostile work environment," Bruce went on. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Tony doesn't take no for an answer."

"He took it from Maria and me."

"Probably because you two can kick his ass."

Bruce flashed her another grin to accompany the bit of flattery. It came perilously close to working, too, but Natasha crossed her arms.

"What, like you can't?"

She thought he might make one of those self-deprecating remarks about how he couldn't, she was confusing him with the Other Guy. Instead, his reply surprised her.

"Actually, I think that's Tony's other angle."

"He eats all the shawarma he wants, and you eat all the shawarma you can till you Hulk out?"

Bruce cringed, slightly, at her phrasing, but nodded.

"That's idiotic. You have more control than that, and Tony knows it."

The lines of his face softened, but his voice was unsure. "You don't think it sounds like him? Like bored Tony, without Pepper?"

"What I think," said Natasha, unfolding her arms, "is that you should have what you want for lunch."

"But Tony's already picking up the sha-"

"What do you want for lunch, Bruce?"

Behind the lenses of his glasses, he blinked. Then he drew a deep breath and answered, "Thai."

"Thai."

"There's this fantastic place on 27th. Want to join me?"

"I'll drive-but you're buying."

From around the corner of the Tower, Tony watched Bruce get into Natasha's car, and handed the Shawarma Palace delivery guy an extra twenty.

"What's this for, Mr. Stark?"

Tony patted him on the shoulder. "For helping me ensure my plan was a success."

The boy only blinked at him, and Tony grabbed the takeout bag with a grin.

"I get double shawarma!"