Affairs of the Arc Reactor (DarkledMind and Eli)

[Eli]

"I wonder if you would let me poke you and the big guy so we could get some equipment up and running. Like clothes that don't fall off or beer that gets you drunk."


Banner froze mid-chew and furrowed his brows. What Stark was suggesting... It was neither a cure nor a suppressant, but something that would effectively improve his life. Or at least normalize it to an extent, because having the option to drown his brain in alcohol might not fall under the category of 'life improving'. He began chewing again, reluctantly, but his consideration of this offer advanced at a rapid pace.


Tony wanted to deal with the "side effects" of his condition; Bruce wanted to extinguish it, or die trying. That had been his mentality from the beginning, and his attempts to find a solution had been resounding failures. In Brazil he had labored away, allowed an inkling of hope to pierce his heart, and had been burned for of it. After blowing a bullet through his brain he had rampaged as the Other Guy, and after that he'd tried, truly tried, to refocus his life on something else. Even if he hadn't been entirely successful in that endeavor, his life was no longer consumed by his prior research, even if the thoughts of death ever lingered. But the search was like a hard drug and the yearning to stamp out the monster was ceaseless.


He realized his hand had curled into a fist around his fork, and released it. The utensil clattered jarringly.


His friend had control over SHIELD, and Banner did not hold an inkling of trust for such organizations. They had tried to interfere with his life for years on end. He had journeyed through harsh climates, abstained from simple necessities, closed himself off from the world because he was a walking disaster and organizations like SHIELD thought they could tame him, replicate him, or extinguish him.


And yet the scientist sensed that those were not Tony's intentions. He wondered not only if he could trust someone else with data about the Other Guy, but whether he could trust himself on the matter. These thoughts raced through his mind in the matter of seconds before he wrenched himself back to the present. Banner took a breath to comment, having finally worked through the ham, but Tony quickly interjected.


"Before you say anything on the matter..." In a short moment one of Stark's devices was laid beside his lager. Automatically Banner's eyes sparked with hunger and dissected the information before him. His friend continued, "Since you will be working with me for at least a while, you now have access to all of JARVIS' files, as well as any files that the new 'SHIELD' has on you." Tony swiveled to face him. "Can't give you absolutely everything on the SHIELD database. A Director has to have his secrets." He topped that all off with a chuckle and a large gulp of his beer, leaving Banner to grope for a response.


"Uh..." His eyes were glued to the device, to the files detailing his life and his hideouts and the people he had killed. "I..." He blinked away, and unconsciously started to wring his hands together like a wet towel. How long was 'a while'? Was this offer conditional? Experimentation on the Other Guy in exchange for this information? He rifled through the possible uses of this opportunity, the potential benefits, but was daunted by them as well.


Banner sucked in a partially-concealed, stabilizing breath. "Why don't we work through that nanotech before--" he swallowed, and itched for a sip of his beer, "--before trying to contain the... 'little Hulk'." Unfortunately he'd lost the ability to infuse humor into the meager quip, and it left his lips feeling flat.


"And the files, they..." He chewed on his lip, "Thanks." He wasn't sure if he dared read much on his personal history, which was undoubtedly filled with everything he never thought about, but it was a tantalizing offer too valuable to refuse. Bruce tried to meet Stark's eyes and speculated why the man would even entertain the thought of doing any of this.

 

[DarkledMind]

Tony finally looked over Bruce and his breath hitched. There was no tell tale flash of green, but the doctor was obviously tense. He had hit a nerve. And then his heart began to clench and twitch against his ribcage. The little voice swam up from the murk of the alcohol and spoke. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. You fucked up Tony. Now he won't want to stay. What do you think offering to experiment on him would do? And the files? Bah. Even the ones SHIELD has on him weren't enough. You can't bribe him with information and you knew that. You knew that before inviting him to play with your toys.


He took a deep breath and turned away from Bruce, fumbling for his beer slightly, hoping to drown the voice with more alcohol. His hands had begun to sweat and the glass was covered in condensation, causing the thing to spill all over him. Tony swore, loudly, at the top of his lungs actually. He didn't pause to help and clean up, instead rudely dismissing himself from the table and running to the bathroom, pushing aside a waiter on his way. His heart was pumping and the voice laughing at him. Good job, Klutz. Oh, now on that note you are going to leave your friend behind? Yeah, that won't make him any more suspicious of you, being the leader of SHIELD and all.


He burst into the bathroom to find a man there, taking a phone call. Shit, that isn't good. How was he supposed to have another goddamn panic attack (twice in one day, good job) with another man there. Still covered in beer, he waltzed up to the man. The man was shocked, and Tony didn't care to try and think of why. Instead, the billionaire reached in his pants and grabbed his wallet, then pulled out a hundred dollars. "I will pay you to find some place else. NOW."


The man paused and took the cash with an agape mouth, then ran out of the room. Tony growled at himself, sparks flying as he thought of how to get out of the situation. Teeth grinding together, he grabbed fistfuls of paper towels and tried to wash himself off. Getting even more frustrated in this process, he took off the blazer and the shirt to make it easier to wash himself. Plus the coolness of the small and clean restroom was refreshing against his heavily sweating body.


His heart had slowed little but he still started chanting as he vigorously scrubbed the cloth in the sink. "Not again not again not again."

 

[Eli]

Bruce visibly flinched when Tony fumbled with his beer, swore emphatically, and stormed to the restroom. The warm chatter that comfortably filled the bar faltered after this off-putting display, and the scientist found himself under the scrutiny of several pairs of eyes. Some were inquiring, others sympathetic, and some judgmental. Left behind in the wake of Tony Stark's outburst, Banner ripped his eyes away from the onlookers and snatched his napkin from his lap. He mopped up the liquid, shoulders square and stiff, then stole his absent companion's napkin to continue the job, and finally decided he'd let the waiter fix up the rest.


He took a deep swig of his own beer, draining the glass, and tried to remember a time when alcohol actually numbed him. He realized he didn't like thinking that far back and halted the train of thought before it could progress. Instead he indulged the mildly irritated child within him: What did he do wrong to make Tony run off like that? He'd tried to say thanks, it wasn't his fault, but of course it was, wasn't it? Over the course of the last few minutes the Other Guy had stomped all over his skull, but it was a minor occurrence. He was anxious, he was trying not to think about his file, or about experiments, and yet his mental walls endured. Had Tony fled because he doubted Bruce's control? He shook his head to himself, dismissing the thought, because that wasn't how Tony worked. The man had poked him with a pointy object after just meeting him, in the middle of the helicarrier, during a planet-wide crisis, just to see what would happen, for Christ's sake.


Banner filled his lungs with air and exhaled slowly, forcing the tension out of his shoulders. He willed his hands to become limp in his lap. He systematically filtered through the disturbances in his brain and filed them away temporarily. From the looks of it, Stark was in worse shape than he was, and Banner hadn't exactly had a fun day. He tugged on the string hanging from his shirt and counted down sixty seconds in his head.


When he hit sixty, he slowly stood from his stool and strode to the restroom, pausing to ask a waiter to clean up their table first. He hated playing therapist, and he was unused to playing friend, but he smoothly opened the restroom door and peeked inside. There was Tony, growling something under his breath and scrubbing his sopping shirt in the sink.


Bruce licked his lips and shuffled his feet indecisively before pushing through the threshold.


"Uh, hi Tony." He stepped carefully to the sinks, where he turned and leaned against the counter. He allowed his companion a fair bit of space. "So, um..." He rubbed the nape of his neck, but his body language was no longer wrought with tension. He hadn't practiced relaxation and studied body language all these years for nothing. "I'm sorry, if I..." He chewed on his words. He wasn't really certain what he should be sorry for. "I'm not the easiest guest to entertain, I know that, but I'll stay a little while, if that's still alright? Or I can leave, that's alright too."


He could still salvage what he'd been setting up over the last few weeks, after all. And he didn't particularly want to stay in New York long -- he'd been itching to leave the moment he arrived -- but 'a little while' was purposely vague. Banner knitted his hands together and rested them in his lap. He glanced up dubiously at Tony, unsure what the man wanted to hear and feeling very much like an intruder.

 

[DarkledMind]

Tony sighed and dropped his shirt and all of the wet paper towels on the counter away from Bruce. He was still sweating, but his heart wasn't trying to pop out of his chest. Taking a few deep breaths, he began to speak. "No, it's my fault. I brought up a bad subject, and haven't..." He paused, bringing a hand up to his mouth and rubbing his chin. He laughed sardonically, and let his arms drop to his side. "I haven't been playing nice."


He stalked away and leaned against the wall, as far away from Bruce as possible. "Look, you know I haven't been telling the truth." He lifted his arm dramatically and let it fall again in exasperation. "I have been stressed, that is obvious. And I will tell you everything. But let's not do that in a fucking public restroom, okay?"


But he sighed exasperatedly and slumped onto the floor. "But now I don't have clothes to even go back out there if I wanted to. Which I don't." He ran his fingers through his hair and then thumped his head against the wall. "Do you have an undershirt or something I can borrow? Or maybe I have a spare in the car..."


He looked around, and was sitting right under the towel dispenser. "Or I can make a shirt out of those." He pulled from the dispenser and wiped his forehead with the scratchy brown paper.

 

[Eli]

The dripping shirt and mushy paper towels squelched as Tony dropped them on the counter. The scientist inspected the polished tile on the floor, waiting for his companion to speak. After a few ragged breaths, he did. "No, it's my fault. I brought up a bad subject, and haven't... I haven't been playing nice."


Banner raised his head a bit, surprised to hear such words from Stark. "Playing nice can be... tricky," he said self-effacingly, and watched Tony retreat to the far wall.


"Look, you know I haven't been telling the truth. I have been stressed, that is obvious. And I will tell you everything. But let's not do that in a fucking public restroom, okay?"


Bruce nodded in assent; he preferred not to discuss anything at all, but he didn't always get what he wanted. The discussion was inevitable. Best do it somewhere more secure than the restroom. He didn't think Daniel-David Chang would appreciate Tony Stark and his mysterious greenish friend having a heart to heart in front of the urinals.


Tony collapsed on the cold tile. "But now I don't have clothes to even go back out there if I wanted to. Which I don't. Do you have an undershirt or something I can borrow? Or maybe I have a spare in the car... Or I can make a shirt out of those," he finished and scrubbed his sweaty forehead with the paper towel.


Bruce half-laughed and looked down at his shirt. "No undershirts here, but... I'm no stranger to walking around without clothes." His hands were no longer shaky, so he nimbly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to Tony. "See how that fits. Don't get excited though, I'm gonna see if we can salvage your clothes. I don't think weaving a paper towel shirt would be time-efficient."


He was sure the man's clothes had plenty of life in them -- Banner had endured a cyclone in nothing but rags before -- and with a quick glance for permission from Tony, lifted the paper towel-and-cloth mess from the counter. The habits he picked up as a quack doctor resurfaced and he thought Tony might be better off breathing than worrying over a stain. His frustration at the man abated in the face of his obvious distress.


He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and realized he hadn't seen his own shirtless reflection in a long time. He was wiry, a little bony, with visible -- but not protruding -- ribs, and quite furry. Nothing new. He'd lost a little weight, perhaps, but that was expected. Bruce never looked quite healthy; his metabolism moved too fast for that. He averted his gaze from the mirror. He'd never liked mirrors, so he rarely looked at them.


He returned to the clothes and inspected the stain. "How much do you care about this shirt?" He turned on the faucet and ran cool water over the fabric. It was best to keep it wet, not dry, or else the stain would be trickier to remove.

 

[DarkledMind]

He laughed with his mouth agape when he was thrown the raggedy old shirt. "Oh no you don't." He tossed the shirt and stood back up. He was used to people doing things for him, but mainly because he was rich, famous, or they thought they had to. To see his friend offer to go naked (well half) out in public was reassuring, and was the little boost that he needed.


Hesitantly, he strode towards Bruce and placed a cold hand on his shoulder, then looked him in the eye via mirror. "How about we both go shirtless and make a dash for the car." He snorted, and when was asked about how he felt about the shirt, picked it up and threw it in the trash. He was drunk, and decided to be cocky. Tony could be, he was a billionaire playboy who was, unofficially, back on the market again. The drunken revelries he had been in before had proven that this was normal.


The press would just have to deal.

 

[Eli]

Banner haphazardly caught his own shirt when Stark threw it back. It got a little damp in the catching process, but that was okay. It was his best shirt -- his other one was starting to fall apart -- and although it smelled of sweat and dirt and airport, he thought it was perfectly wearable. He was prepared to offer it to his friend once more when he felt a chilly hand rest upon his shoulder. He glanced up into the mirror and locked gazes with Tony.


"How about we both go shirtless and make a dash for the car." Tony lobbed the sopping clothes in the trash.


His friend's words were silly and shocking enough that Bruce didn't linger on the thought that getting rid of those clothes was a tremendous waste. His lips twisted into a brief, crooked grin, and his eyebrows crinkled disbelievingly.


"Uh, hm." He scratched at his chest. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but we're both grown men, right? Not teenagers?" He paused, considered the looks he'd receive, the risk of the tabloids picking it up, and the fact that he hated drawing attention to himself. He released a quiet sigh from his nose and weighed that against Tony's possible reactions if he refused. "I truly have no shame," he intoned and took off for the door, swinging his crinkled shirt over his shoulders.

 

[DarkledMind]

Tony's gut began to knot as he looked towards the door, the thought of camera flashes making him sweat again. "Teenagers, huh? Do we look like teenagers?" There was a knot in his throat and he swallowed it down, his fists clenching together by his side. Yes, they were going to get photographed and likely end up on the internet. But either way they were. Tony, drunk in public for the first time in years and covered in beer at a high end restaurant in downtown New York with a seemingly unknown companion? That to him seemed worse than Stark Enterprises CEO walks out of bar shirtless. With him in the spotlight doing something seemingly outlandish, it showed his persona, not his true self.


But still, the doubt was there, present in his gut. He had to swallow again, but his mouth was dry. "Y-You sure we want to do this?" He resisted the urge to start pacing and being frantic. Instead he stared at the door like he did Loki, with a dry humor in his eyes that reflected his attitude about himself. "If you want, I can strut out and pay like this. That way no one notices you."


It was hard not to just think about himself sometimes. Especially with Bruce's situation and his own problems. It would have been better if he understood the man next to him, but empathy wasn't quite his thing. Yet he tried, and often failed. His fists clenched at his brow sweat as he prepared to waltz out of the door.

 

[Eli]

"Y-You sure we want to do this? If you want, I can strut out and pay like this. That way no one notices you."


The scientist paused just before the door. Of course Bruce didn't want to walk out of a busy restaurant half-naked. He'd done it before -- the other restaurant was busier, actually, and he had been completely naked, but that was another story. This situation held significantly more risk. He didn't care about the rumors, but he was certainly concerned about having his real, true, non-green face out in the open. He had painstakingly evaded detection and identification for years on end, and Banner wasn't fond of gambling with such matters, because his luck had proven to be abysmal. Even if his name wasn't released, twenty intelligence agencies would register and label his face, no doubt.


But he looked at shirtless, sweating Tony, who seemed to be on the verge of another panic attack. Banner crossed his arms and leaned against the bathroom wall.


"Tony. I've been in... more eye-drawing situations than this." It was sort of a lie, but hell, his -- the Other Guy's -- giant green ass was on the internet, after all. "I'm fine. Get JARVIS to pull up the car and pay the bill, we get out of here." He observed the man's sweaty hairline. "Doesn't have to be right now. We can take a couple deep breaths, too."


He slid his shirt off his shoulder and offered it to Tony. "Sure you don't want it? Smells a little funky, but a shirt's a shirt. I don't mind wearing yours." He carefully kept his limbs loose, his voice light, despite the apprehension twisting his still-hungry belly.

 

[DarkledMind]

Tony growled, his actions then moved by pure adrenalin. He did not pause or shake, nor stutter. Instead, he pushed the door wide open and strut to the maitre'd. Everyone stared at him, and some even pulled out their phones. His teeth were tight together as he started to do the math of the price in his head quickly. The lady in front of him was agape. Again, he growled and waved one hand by his head dismissivly. "Yeah I know I know." Instead he pulled out two hundred dollars and threw it down on the table with a flourish. That should cover expenses, he thought.


JARVIS was driving up as he left the restaurant with his left hand clenched. The car parked and opened up the driver's door smoothly. And as the playboy stepped down into the car, he punched the car more force than expected. His knuckle split and pain wracked up his arm, receiving a grunt from the man. But his hand was still clenched tightly as he leaned into the leather seat. "JARVIS, Deactivate manual control before I go off and wreck this bitch."


"Yes, sir."


The cold then hit him as the driver's door zipped closed. Goose pimples raised on his flesh and he shivered, but not from the cold. His head was rushing and the thoughts were not pleasant. Anger seemed to rush through his body and taint him with pain. He was tempted to ask JARVIS as to what the problem was, but he had no doubt in his mind that this was another panic attack through the fog of alcohol and intense stress.


He tried to calm himself fruitlessly, ending up doing breathing exercises, but doing them very wrong.

 

[Eli]

Bruce's gaze followed Tony as he threw the door open and darted out the restroom. He was still for a moment, then slipped on his shirt, buttoned the first button, and stepped outside as well. He couldn't deny that he had expected this, but something deep within him snarled. Had he left his new hideout, interrupted his routine, to juggle the stress of New York with the stress of Tony Stark with the burden of just existing?


He continued buttoning his shirt as he tiptoed towards the door, where Tony's back was slipping out of sight. The Other Guy was louder in his brain now, not because of Stark, but because of everything. He inhaled an exhausted breath, ignored the probing stares trailing him, and stepped out into the cold New York night.


He rid himself of the tension curling up in his muscles. Tony was difficult, unpredictable, infuriating, but he was also struggling. Banner slid into the car, the door having opened for him, and assessed the deterioration of his friend. He was tense like a curled fist and struggling to breathe, and the split knuckle did not escape the scientist's keen eyes.


"Tony, Tony. Breathe, like this," and he breathed, breathed, like he always did, "You can work through this." His voice was mellow and unaffected despite the irritation itching at his skull; but he breathed not just for Tony, but for himself, because in this situation he needed patience and empathy.

 

[DarkledMind]

Tony did attempt to breath normally. Attempted is the word. But with every breath he stuttered out a new one in an unequal pace. And then the car began moving, not just moving but speeding down the road faster than Tony had been driving before. He was confused for a second and opened his mouth to object, but then his heart stopped.


"Sir, please, try to relax." JARVIS spoke reassuringly, but when Stark suddenly lost control of his muscles and his breathing altogether, the voice was not comforting. Slowly the light faded away and all he could do was feel. He was lost and so confused and scared. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he twitched mildly.


"Dr. Banner, due to high amounts of stress, alcohol, and experimentation, Mister Stark is experiencing a seizure. I am heading back to Avengers Tower and notifying Maria Hill of the incident."


But the episode didn't last long, and Tony was awake, but damn exhausted. He jumped up slightly when he regained consciousness. "NO! No! Don't tell her!"


JARVIS was still cool and calm. "Due to prohibition order 96, set in place on October tenth of this year, when you experience an attack you are no longer--"


"Override protocol Alpha Zeta 9!"


"Override accepted. Cancelling call to Assistant Director Maria Hill."


There was a sigh, but then suddenly his body tensed up again, and sweat poured from his body.


"Contacting Maria Hill... Again."

 

[Eli]

"Dr. Banner, due to high amounts of stress, alcohol, and experimentation, Mister Stark is experiencing a seizure. I am heading back to Avengers Tower and notifying Maria Hill of the incident."


Bruce nodded briskly in understanding even as his brain whirred with the implications of the AI's words. He'd witnessed several seizures before, and could recognize this was what Tony was experiencing; he was relieved it wasn't a violent one, or the man might injure himself inside this cramped car. He automatically checked the man wasn't vomiting, and counted how long the seizure lasted, but allowed the man his space. Bruce felt his heart rate accelerate, from the carefully maintained lub-dub to a building drum beat. He reined in his breathing, but Tony's outburst of yelling no to JARVIS temporarily broke his concentration.


The squabble between Tony and JARVIS was short-lived, and Banner maintained his silence throughout it. The suddenly-coherent Tony stiffened once more, succumbing to a second seizure. Bruce was swiveled to face Stark, brows knitted together in concern and frustration at his inability to do anything. His eyes were glued to his friend, whom he had been so irritated at moments before. The car traveled swiftly and was rapidly nearing the Tower. He assumed Hill will have been contacted by the time they arrived, and from there, he could only speculate what might happen -- and how stubbornly Tony would resist.


Banner settled back in his seat, although his eyes never strayed from Stark. He focused on leveling his heart rate, because this was no different than any other case he'd seen, and after a few more moments he had regained his aura of projected calm. Except Stark was in worse shape than he had first assumed -- he mustn't have slept in days, and his mental state was erratic and volatile at best. And the experimentation? Something within him spat that the man had done it to himself, but Banner crushed that damning voice. Empathy had taken root inside of him, even if he was ignorant of its presence.

 

[DarkledMind]

A cold wind from the ocean had swept in and began whistling around the car as it parked at Avnegers' Tower. Outside, Salt stood with her hand clenched to her heart desperately. Her big brown eyes were wistful, hopeful, but her body language told another story. She was fearful and despondent as she ran over to the car when both doors opened.


JARVIS piqued up. "Maria Hill has been contacted. Dr. Banner, there is an earpiece in the glove box that will allow you to partake in the conversation."


The young woman was at her boss's door when he regained consciousness, and the man fell into her arms. She was much stronger than her appearance led one to believe, and caught him easily, helping him into the cold autumn night. Her voice was unsteady but nonetheless strong as she looked into Banner's eyes with trust. "How many times has it happened so far?"


There was a small blip as Maria picked up the call. The car, for now, projected the conversation aloud until Bruce put in the ear piece. Both Salt and Tony already had one. "Another attack? Seriously, Stark, I don't know what your problem is, but you are an idiot." Despite the Assistant Director's harsh words, you could hear the tone of worry and despair locked behind her firm voice.


There was a breathy laugh as Tony finally spoke. "Hey. Give me some wiggle room. I am not usually this wrong..." The shock of cold air made him cough loudly, but it seemed like the episode was over.

 

[Eli]

"Maria Hill has been contacted. Dr. Banner, there is an earpiece in the glove box that will allow you to partake in the conversation."


They rolled to a smooth stop despite the speed at which they had traveled. Banner rummaged through the glove box and found the miniscule earpiece. It was efficient Stark technology, and he held it carefully, not wanting to drop it and lose it in the dark. When he managed to place it in his ear, the car doors had opened, and the scientist caught sight of the woman from the front desk waiting outside. He noted she looked to be playing the role of Pepper as she approached Tony's side with a palpable air of worry and fear.


By then Stark had returned to the present and collapsed in the woman's arms. She grappled with him for a moment, but managed to keep him steady, which was commendable, considering Tony's wobbliness. The woman locked eyes with Bruce, "How many times has it happened so far?"


Banner blinked and broke the unexpected eye contact. "Twice," he said simply before listing off how long each seizure had lasted and the specific movements -- or lack thereof -- that Tony had displayed. He rose out of the cabin and tread round the front of the car to meet Stark and the assistant. At that moment the voice of Maria Hill buzzed in his earpiece.


"Another attack? Seriously, Stark, I don't know what your problem is, but you are an idiot."


Banner wrapped his arms around his chest as Tony broke out into a strained laugh and spoke, "Hey. Give me some wiggle room. I am not usually this wrong..." A series of coughs wracked his chest, but the seizures seemed to have ended for the time being.


The scientist rubbed at his jaw, "Well uh, this has been fun, but why don't we move this elsewhere?" He looked pointedly at the Tower before returning his gaze to the shirtless Tony. He imagined the drunk, half-naked man who had just endured two seizures would not stand up very well to a New York night that held the telltale bite of an approaching winter.


"This has clearly happened before..." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What's the routine?"

 

[DarkledMind]

Tony attempted to stand up straight and push the woman away. "I'm okay, Salt." The woman was obviously still concerned and was wringing her hands as she hung close to her boss in case he became wobbly again. He began to walk, carefully, towards the seemingly abandoned tower. As he attempted the trek, Salt looked worryingly between the two men.


"Usually bed rest, food and..." She bit her lip and warily looked around.


There was snort from the earpiece. "And sedation."


Tony reached the door by himself, but had to grasp the handle firmly for a second as he wobbled slightly from pure exhaustion. "I don't understand why you guys insist on me taking Valium." He laughed and opened the door, walking through as if nothing had happened, but the stutter in his step was too obvious for comfort.


Salt lowered her voice and again looked around suspiciously, holding a hand out for Stark, who refused it. "He can slip into a psychosis after an attack that lasts for hours."


Maria piped up again. "If you think he's a problem now, you should see him like that."


Tony sighed, a little frustrated. "I can hear you, Agent Hill."


"I know, Director Stark."


They two sighed simultaneously to show their distaste for the other.

 

[Eli]

Banner followed 'Salt' and Stark; he kept a slight distance but was prepared to leap in and catch Tony if he keeled over. The last thing the man needed was to crack his skull open like an egg and have his brains leak out like... Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut. His mind was wandering. He shook off his scrambled, tired thoughts and refocused on Tony, who had successfully reached the door. Despite the waver in his step, he stayed upright as he entered the Tower. Bruce and Salt were right on his heels.


Bed rest, food, and Valium sounded like a winning combination; however, he found it unlikely Tony would comply, and he was also dubious as to whether they should even give him Valium after he'd ingested so much alcohol. It'd be nice if they could avoid the psychosis part, though.


Bruce stepped towards the elevator and paused. He turned and addressed Tony, not wanting to disregard his agitation at being talked over, "Do you know how you react to the interaction of diazepam and alcohol?" He glanced at Salt as well; Stark might not be honest. He knew full well that Tony might use his words to wriggle out of taking any medication, but Banner preferred not to take any undue risks.


With the obligatory merry ding the elevator doors opened and Bruce stood back to allow Salt and Tony to enter ahead of him.

 

[DarkledMind]

Salt entered the elevator with both of her hands clasped and wringing together. She pressed the button to go to the living floor of the Avenger's Tower, and stood next to the button pad. Nervously, she looked at her boss, and then to his companion. Despite trying to stay strong, she wasn't very good at it. Rather, she seemed to be a nervous little mouse in this situation.


The CEO sighed and leaned against the wall of the elevator that he had leaned on last time he was here just a few hours ago. His head was propped up against the steely cold surface and he crossed his arms and legs. That was why he never really pursued Salt. That had been why he hired her, that and she was competent. But she was scared, not brave and strong like the fiery haired woman she was meant to replace.


He sighed again as Maria spoke into their ear pieces. "How much have you had to drink, Stark?"


Annoyed, he spoke under his breath, "Not enough." He cleared his throat and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "I would be just fine to take it." A smile crossed his lips. "But I'm not going to."


You could hear the desperation in Maria's voice. "Here we go again."

 

[Eli]

"Here we go again."


Banner chewed on his lip and considered the situation, what was best for Tony, and what Tony thought was best for himself. He coiled his arms around his chest and leaned against the gently buzzing steel wall. The elevator was steadily ascending, and he tuned into the fine mechanical whirring as he thought. Banner briefly considered the route of manipulation and mapped out that scenario, but questioned his friend's reactions and empathy, and finally dismissed it. Ultimately he figured Tony should be able to choose what he wanted, even if it wasn't the most beneficial decision. It was foolish and irresponsible, but Bruce wasn't obligated to be the man's doctor, and certainly not his mother. He'd treated five-year-olds more compliant than Tony, and he was thankful that he was a bystander in this situation. It didn't lessen the natural shred of concern he held for his colleague, though.


He glimpsed at the distressed woman and her twisting hands, then at Stark and his defiant demeanor. The elevator jolted to a halt, arriving at the primary living floor. Banner stepped out, eyes sweeping over the familiar area, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Fatigue settled over his shoulders and he tried not to droop. Banner wanted rest, and he was tired of this squabbling. But he simply couldn't excuse himself in these circumstances. He was worried for his friend, too; mainly, he just wanted the guy to stop and maybe they could both have a break for a while.


He glanced at Tony, wondering what in the world he might do if he wasn't planning to rest. Drink, work in the lab, have a psychotic break... Sounded about right. He reassessed the manipulation idea. Even if he didn't sound genuine, he might be able to elicit the intended reaction out of Tony. And the possible repurcussions were nullified due to his friend being Director of SHIELD. He twisted his mouth into a slight frown, then decided.


For one of the few times since Romanoff 'persuaded' him to help SHIELD, Bruce intentionally disposed of his stable, relaxed demeanor. He locked gazes with Tony, and allowed a slight tremor to run through his wringing hands.


"Uh -- I'm sorry, this is..." He swallowed and broke eye contact with his friend. "All this, the medicine, the arguing, it's making me feel a little... 'green', and if this-- I should probably, uh..." He set his gaze upon the elevator, as if to suggest he should leave, and licked his lips. His performance was sudden and almost surely transparent, but with luck, it could be a sacrifice that would benefit the both of them.

 

[DarkledMind]

Tony knew subconsciously that he was slipping, falling into the darkness below him. But the chaos around was enough to distract him from the coming storm. He smirked widely and let Maria scream into his ear as Salt fiddled with her hands awkwardly. But when the ding of the elevator sounded and they reached the living area, Bruce walked out.


Then his mind narrowed onto his companion, his true friend in the mire. The rest was unimportant, insignificant. He saw his friend backing away nervously, eyes shifting left and right. "... making me feel a little 'green' ..." And Tony's grin grew wider. He took the ear piece out, the yelling from his Assistant Director now quiet without the piece of machinery. For emphasis, he dropped it lightly on the ground and made a note to step on it as he exited the elevator. Before Salt could leave the elevator, Tony pressed the 'down' button, the doors closing in her face. They were alone.


Quickly he evaluated the situation. The last time Bruce turned green involuntary his leg was crushed under a giant beam. So, a little emotional stress shouldn't cause too much harm, should it? Besides, he could take care of it if it happened. He could possibly take Hulky down back to Bruce with his new abilities and his suits. Fun first run and last run if nothing else.


"Green? You don't look to green, Bruce." There was a small half wall behind the other man. Perfect. Tony strode up to him, quickly, so that the seemingly nervous man couldn't slide out of the way. Suddenly their bodies were pressed together, and Tony gripped the wall to bring himself closer and even closer to the Doctor. Stark's body was still damp with sweat and strong against the other. The whir of the arc reactor could be heard in the silent room, and was currently their only source of light. Tony grinned mischievously.


"Feeling a little more green?"

 

[Eli]

Tony's grin stretched even wider in response to Bruce's feigned falter in control. Suddenly Hill was yelling in the earpiece, Tony was stomping on his own earpiece, and a startled Salt vanished behind steel doors. His frazzled friend's smile became predatory, and the scientist realized he may have grossly miscalculated the outcome of this act. He noted that next time he thought he could put a leash on Tony Stark's actions, he should simply walk away. He was a master scientist, but he didn't have a PhD in psychology for a reason. The instinct to flee tingled in the back of Bruce's mind, and he crossed his arms over his chest as an unconscious shield.


Tony launched himself at Bruce, who instinctively stepped back and unwittingly became sandwiched between a rock and a hard place. Or, in this case, a wall and a sweating, shirtless, mentally unstable friend.


"Feeling a little more green?"


The arc reactor illuminated their faces. He could feel Tony's breath puffing against his skin. The scientist was wide-eyed, his false anxiety replaced with a mix of discomfort and shock. Tony pressed closer, and Bruce desperately attempted to melt through the wall without success. He tried to school his expression and soothe his muscles. With one quick, practiced breath he returned to his state of outward calm, like a switch being flicked. It was disrupted by the occasional twitch, and he felt a droplet of sweat beading upon his forehead, but he'd remained steady through much worse.


"Not so green, actually..." He placed a firm hand on Stark's shoulder and applied slight force in an attempt to communicate, get away. "Tony, I just want you to take your medicine. And I need a nap." He bit on his lip and wriggled under the pressure of his friend. "And you are drunk and just had two seizures. And..."


He paused. People didn't get this close to him. Walking down a busy street, yes, his personal space was regularly invaded. Sometimes a stranger would grope him or knock into him. But this, with Tony knowing what he was? Practically unprecedented, and it was highly uncomfortable. It made him think of Betty, and he actively tried not to think about her. For years he'd maintained a careful distance, physical and emotional, between himself and the people he interacted with. Bruce decided that inebriated, ill Tony got a little bit too close for comfort.


He sighed through his nose and tried to plant his feet firmly on the ground. Hill was still buzzing in his ear, and he fumbled to rid himself of the earpiece. "She's... annoying. And I can do a lot worse to you than pepper spray, Tony. Uh. Not in a sexual way -- I mean. So just..." He averted his eyes and resisted the temptation to hang his head, because that would result in him being cheek-to-cheek with Tony. He squirmed once more, tested the human barrier encasing him, and tried to slip through Tony's arms.

 

[DarkledMind]

As Bruce wriggled and writhed underneath him Tony felt his heart racing. Usually the man wasn't the type to pin someone to the wall, but a deep and heady madness had set in. The world was brighter and adrenalin pumped harder through his veins than ever before. Colors were more than colors and the light emanating from his chest wasn't just from the arc reactor, it was from his own beating heart.


When Bruce moved again underneath him, he used the small amount of height difference to his advantage, and angled his knees and feet to pin his companion even more thoroughly, but now his sharp hip bones ground into Banner's stomach. And then the man started fumbling with his earpiece and mentioned something about 'pepper spray' and 'not in a sexual way.' Stark let his mouth drop and he drew back slightly in surprise before reaffirming his power. The grin was different now, darker and deeper.


"Here, let me help you with that." He firmly, but still gently, took Bruce's hand and held it away from his own ear. His brown eyes locked onto Bruce's before he began to move. Agonizingly slowly, Stark moved to where the ear piece lay, letting his lips brush against the other scientist's cheek and then along his ear lobe. He bared his teeth and let his hot breath sweep over his prey's neck before removing the ear piece, lips brushing against him and leaving a slight wetness that a beast-like snort from Tony pointed out.


He spat out the small mechanical device away from them, and returned to his previous position away from the sensitive area of the neck. "Better?" A self-satisfied smug had replaced the wild grin.

 

[Eli]

He couldn't escape, he was still pinned, and Bruce's eyes narrowed as Tony's grin grew sharper with new intent. The taller man ground his hip into the scientist's stomach, which Banner sucked in instinctively. He was cramming himself into the wall to the point where his bones and muscles were aching. He clamped down on his teeth. He felt the Hulk pacing in his skull, hammering on his spine, because this was an attack on his privacy, his space, and he was forced against a wall by someone hungry and threatening and it made him want to lash out. The tinny voice pouring out of the earpiece began to fade.


But years of practice and of being in precarious circumstances set in. He had outrun soldiers, stayed cool in the midst of gunfights; this was child's play, wasn't it? Banner inhaled a lungful of breath and focused on grounding himself; the good old routine of years and years. He assured himself, assured the Other Guy, that Tony was an ally, that the alcohol on his breath did not signify the presence of his father, and that he needn't be enraged, just mildly pissed off. Bruce blinked, then flinched, as Tony's sweaty hand took hold of Bruce's wrist, pulling it away so he could reach up and painstakingly remove the buzzing earpiece. The man's breath clouded against his neck, tickled the stubble on his cheek then lingered against his ear, and when he withdrew Bruce felt the cold air attacking the dampness left there. The earpiece was spat out and engulfed by the encroaching darkness.


The temporary panic subsided rapidly although his intestines never ceased twisting and knotting. A hard but controlled expression settled upon Banner's features as Stark smirked, "Better?"


"Get away, Tony," he nearly growled, and matched the man's gaze unwaveringly. "You're not well. Get some rest, or drink some booze, but I'm not one of your... playthings."

 

[DarkledMind]

Tony smirked and clicked his tongue scoldingly. And he went in for the kill. He wrapped his arms around Bruce, one at the base of his neck, the other swiped for his hip and held the perturbed man close, but not pinning. Their lips met and Tony kissed him with an amazing passion and gentleness. His tongue slid out and licked at Bruce's bottom lip, then left with a small nibble.


He then pulled away completely, releasing Bruce from his grip. Tony then simply strolled away with a big smile on his face. He nearly skipped and turned down the first hallway. There was a moment's silence before Tony came back, grabbing the edge of the wall to hang there lazily. "Just so you know, I don't kiss 'Playthings' like that. Now," he pointed down the hallway he was half way in, "I am going to go take my meds and go to sleep before I make any more decisions I will regret in the morning." He smiled and winked, then disappeared down the way, whistling all the way

 

[Eli]

Banner couldn't move. The millisecond before Tony lunged he prepared to flee or strike, warnings be damned, because the numerous forceful encounters he had been subjected to were flooding his brain. But his friend's presence was no longer wholly dominating. Bare arms pulled him into an embrace that was not laced with hostility. Tony's beard scratched, but his lips were experienced and gentle.


Bruce, unpracticed and unresponsive, was icy in Tony's grip. He couldn't pull away, even though he desperately needed to, and didn't dare react in kind. It distantly registered in the isolated man that this was the first time since Betty that someone had touched him with softness, and he ached; he always locked such sentiments away, but they rose up like a wave of acid now.


With a parting nibble Tony retreated, and the scientist was no longer trapped. He barely noticed the grin upon Tony's face, the way he jaunted down the hallway and swung back to have the obligatory last word. The man's voice vaguely computed in his painfully clicking brain and he glimpsed the charm-imbued wink, but he stood, frozen, until Stark's whistles faded away.


Bruce scrubbed his face with a sweaty hand and restrained himself from tearing at his lips. He raked through his disheveled hair and raised his head, straightening his curling back and smoothing his sharp shoulders. His tongue swiped the walls of his mouth and he bit at his lower lip.


Eventually the Other Guy quieted, and without the earpiece or the arc reactor or Tony, the shadowed room was overbearingly silent. Banner exhaled what tension he could from his body, but his hands would not rest. He paced forward, moving by memory to the room he generally stayed in, before halting abruptly. His backpack was sitting in the lab, presumably untouched since earlier that night, when the situation here was remarkably less complicated. His fingers danced across his knuckles and he knew sleep would evade him if he tried to rest. Bruce strode towards the stairwells. He did not want to wait listlessly in the elevator. The lab was close enough, and he knew it would be beneficial to get his high-strung muscles moving.


His footsteps, light from lifelong practice, echoed against the reinforced walls. He descended the stairs quickly, rounding about until he recognized the correct floor number. He pushed through onto the floor that contained the lab. Lights clicked to life as he advanced into the laboratory, where the scotch bottle and crucible, tools, stale toast and backpack remained. He slung the lightweight, faded pack over his shoulders and paused to observe the tools on Tony's worktable. Even after the fresh affront and the exhaustion from the last several days, his brain hummed at the prospect of dissecting the nanotech.


Banner worried his lip. He felt heavy and distant, but the pull was strong. He crept to the station and leaned into the cool table. He accessed the holographic nanotech from earlier.


Bruce rubbed at his chin in consideration and noted he needed to shave because the last time he did was back in Uganda, then he thought back to what his day would have been like if he had remained in his fresh camp. He'd recently finished thatching the roof of his 'home' with the help of one of the villagers. He was in the outskirts of the village because it was close to a working pump and the ideal distance from Kampala -- far enough, but still available should he need supplies. He could have gotten his cup and bathed using the pump, and he would have eaten the matoke he had prepared, and he would have sanitized his tools and fallen asleep without a blanket because the nighttime temperature was ideal. He wondered if the rains had really set in yet.


The holographic model twisted in front of him enticingly, drawing him out of his would-be day. He blinked up at the glaring lights of the lab then back down to the grease-smeared worktable. A small, humorless smile stretched his lips. When he did not have access to a proper laboratory he itched for one; now that he was here he thought of his routine out in the world. Resigned, he settled down on the stool and assessed the holographic model. He wouldn't tamper with Stark's work too much, but he needed to keep his mind busy with science.


Minutes ticked into an hour, which turned into two, then three, and finally he rubbed at his stinging eyes. He'd made a separate model from the original, so Tony's was retained, but had fitted it to an idea that buzzed greedily in his skull. It needed more work, but since he'd be somewhat-willingly staying for 'a while' he figured he still had time to work out the kinks. He lifted his head from the algorithms and models and floating images and swiveled to stare at the door. He looked at it for a long while before pulling himself away, dismissing the holograms, and seizing his backpack once more.


The journey back up the stairs was slower and less coordinated. The restlessness that had plagued him had abated, and now fatigue anchored his feet. He arrived at the living floor again and gripped the strap of his pack tighter. Tony was nowhere to be seen; perhaps he hadn't lied about taking his medication. He tread carefully down the halls, scarcely making noise, and slipped into his room.


It was spacious and air-conditioned, with wide-paned, reinforced windows. The ceilings were high, higher than he was accustomed to, and the living space was thoroughly furnished. The bed was an island, the bathroom an apartment in and of itself, and he even had a kitchenette and a lounge.


Personal embellishments, chosen by Tony, filled the room to reflect Bruce's apparent 'style'. The traditional arts of several countries adorned the walls and furniture. Arduously crafted rugs were strewn underfoot to blanket the cold floor. There were hints of purples and greens, Tony's doing no doubt, in the chosen palette. Handcrafted quilts were draped over the headboard and an artificially worn leather chair. The room looked warm and lived in despite the fact that it was only occasionally inhabited, and Bruce felt like he was bunking in a someone else's space, a false -- albeit gorgeous and expensive -- interpretation of the scientist's assumed life experiences.


The scientist set his pack on the floor beside his bed and started to unwrap the crisp, ridiculously high thread count sheets.


After a trip to the chilly bathroom he clambered onto the mattress. It was a huge, soft lump, and the fluffy sheets enveloped him. He turned onto his side, then to his back, to his stomach, and then his other side. As always, he felt like he was sinking through to the floor, like the mattress was determined to devour him. Bruce rolled to his feet, tore a sheet and a quilt off the neatly fitted bed, and pieced together his typical arrangement.


He lowered himself to the floor, grabbed his backpack as his pillow, and swept the insulating quilt over his prone form. Sleep came to him quickly, compared to most nights. His dreams were active, and by the time he awoke he was curled in a rigid fetal position, with his arms wrapped round his head and the quilt bunched up at his feet. He came to with a start, his disorienting surroundings clashing with the familiar scent of his backpack. After several stretched seconds he recalled the events of the day before. A sliver of dread wriggled into his head, but he resisted the temptation to succumb to it.


Sitting up, he glanced at the windows, taking note of the playful light filtering into the room, then checked the watch firmly fastened around his wrist. He hadn't slept long. He rubbed the dust from his eyes and his stomach moaned. His eyelids fluttered open at the ache, and soon Banner found himself dressed, somewhat groomed, and walking towards the main kitchen, the primal thought of obtaining food consuming his primary focus.


Banner shuffled into the kitchen and inspected its contents. Before long he was munching on an improvised breakfast, one elbow posted on the counter and lips sprinkled with crumbs. But his eyes were focused on the hallways, not the food, as he questioned whether his host would be awake and coherent at this early hour.