Chapter Text
“So, what did you want to go see?” Bruce asked, craning his head to look at the marquee as they stood in line. The two of them hadn’t had a date night in weeks, not since they’d returned from Las Vegas, due to Tony roping Bruce into some Sciency Lab Thing, and Hulk’s Avengers duties (not to mention Pepper dragging them off to take care of all the legal ramifications of their surprise elopement), and they were both rather relieved to get some time to themselves, without Steve making remarks about the future pitter-patter of baby Banner feet, or Thor offering to train up any new warriors brought into the Avengers family, or even JARVIS (the traitor) reminding them of their promise to make him a godfather.
“Men in Black 3?” Darcy suggested. “I love Will Smith.”
Bruce turned and raised an eyebrow at her. “Really?” he asked dryly. “A movie about a secret group that fights off aliens who want to destroy the earth?”
“Well, when you put it that way,” said Darcy, “I guess it would be kind of a waste.”
“What about that Snow White movie?” Bruce pointed to one of the posters hanging on the front of the theater.
Darcy snorted. “Yeah, like anyone’s gonna believe that Charlize fucking Theron wishes she looked more like that Twilight chick.”
“It’s a movie,” said Bruce, shrugging. “That’s what suspension-of-disbelief is for.”
“That dude in it kinda looks like Thor,” said Darcy, musingly, gazing at the poster, chewing on a piece of her hair.
“Stop that,” Bruce said reprovingly, reaching over to bat her hair out of her mouth.
“Excuse me,” said a voice behind them. Bruce and Darcy turned to see a woman about Bruce’s age smiling at them. “I just wanted to say that I think it’s very sweet of you to take your daughter out to a movie.”
Bruce flushed and dropped his gaze to his feet, taking a step away from Darcy, and Darcy’s jaw clenched and her nostrils flared. “I’m not his daughter,” she said frostily.
Bruce hated it whenever their age difference was mentioned; he’d always been self-conscious of the fact that he was dating (and, now, married to) a woman technically young enough to be his daughter. It had taken Darcy some time to convince Bruce that the bit of grey at his temples and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were sexy and that she’d always had a thing for men with a little more, ahem, experience, without everyone pointing it out and making him feel like some kind of pervert. For crying out loud, it had been hard enough to convince him to have anything to do with her in the first place, what with the Hulk and all, without bringing up their ages.
And, oh, dammit, now his fingers were twitching, like they always did when he was really embarrassed. Finger-twitching always led to Bruce locking himself up in the lab all night long. Darcy was so going to kill this woman for ruining her date night, especially since she’d totally planned on ravishing Bruce to within an inch of his life as soon as they got home.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman pleasantly, blissfully unaware of the havoc she was causing, eyeing Bruce in a way that made Darcy contemplate whether or not to try out that move Natasha had taught her last week. “Niece, then?”
Darcy looped her right arm around Bruce’s waist possessively and thrust her left hand out towards the woman. “I’m his wife, bitch, so you can stop eye-fucking him anytime, now.”
“Darcy,” Bruce hissed, flushing even redder.
“What?” she asked, eyes still boring holes through the woman, whose mouth had dropped open and whose gaze was now darting between Bruce and Darcy in disbelief. “She totally was. And no one gets to dream of someday having your genius, fluffy-haired babies except me.”
“I-I’m sorry,” the woman stammered. “My mistake.” Her face was nearly as red as Bruce’s at this point, and she gave a sigh of relief when her phone rang, turning to answer it with an almost frantic “Hello?”
Darcy, her arm still around Bruce’s waist, turned them back to face the front. “It’s not fair,” she said.
“What’s not?” asked Bruce, finally taking his eyes off the ground and settling them on her.
“You’re not supposed to feel like a perv,” she said. “I hate it that you feel ashamed to love me.”
“I don’t…I’m not ashamed,” Bruce protested, finally raising his own arm to drape it across her shoulders.
“You know what I mean,” Darcy countered. “You feel like there’s something wrong with you because of our ages; like, if I was ten or fifteen years older, you’d be okay with making out with me in public without worrying about people looking at you like you’re Hef, but, like, judgmentally, rather than, ‘Hey, look at that guy; he must be awesome to have landed such a babe.’”
“We get that, too,” said Bruce. “I wish people would just say, ‘Oh, look at that married couple, isn’t that nice,’ and that could be the end of it. No making me out to be either a creep or Casanova. Not to mention the things they say about you.”
“People are stupid,” Darcy declared with an imperious toss of her hair, snuggling closer. “Fuck the haters, honey.”
The corners of Bruce’s lips turned up, and, out of the corner of her eye, Darcy saw his hand relax. “That’s pretty much your motto, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Hey, I’m pretty sure it’s Hulk’s motto, too,” Darcy replied.
“No, I think his is ‘Smash the haters,’” said Bruce, his smile widening a bit.
“Same dif,” said Darcy carelessly. “Either way, it’s served us well. You should try it sometime; it’s very cathartic.”
“I don’t really need to, though,” he replied, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “I’ve got you to rescue me from them.”
“Rescue you, huh?” Darcy said, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.
“My hero,” he replied fondly, turning to kiss her fully.