Heart of the Matter - DaftPunk

Chapter 1 Chapter Text

“Okay guys, watch this,” Tony said with barely contained excitement. His Advanced Theoretical Engineering class at MIT perked up, as they always did when Tony said “watch this.” It either meant he was going to do something brilliant, stupid, or brilliantly stupid. He stripped off his t-shirt, and immediately someone wolf-whistled. “All right, all right,” he said, smirking, and not a little bit smug. His electrical energy conversion class was particularly “rowdy,” as Banner always said scathingly in the halls, and today was no different.

“Is today striptease day, Tony? If we all join in, maybe Dr. Banner will have a heart attack and cancel his exam tomorrow,” one of the students called with a laugh, and Tony laughed too, waving him off.

“C’mon, you know he’d check himself out of the hospital for an exam. They’re like candy to him. Besides,” he said, tapping his arc reactor with a grin, “we’re doing a special unit today on mass energy conversion. You all know what this is?” When they replied in the affirmative that it was his fancy pacemaker, Tony began sorting through a mess of heavy cords and wires scattered on his desk.

“Okay, so the power output is 12 gigajoules per second. Can anyone tell me what horsepower that converts to?”

“Uhhh… 16 million horsepower?” Tony’s impressively brilliant and creative student Riri Williams said in disbelief. “Why the hell do you need such a powerful pacemaker?”

“Why the hell not?” Tony said, starting to attach wires to his arc reactor, which began to pulsate with blue-white light as he did so. “So 16 million horsepower- let’s say that’s about enough to power 60 aircraft carriers-“ Tony paused, appreciating the murmur of impressed interest from his students, “-and might be just enough to cause a power surge big enough to get the kids in Banner’s class out of their lecture. What do you think?”

There was an immediate commotion, and Tony gestured for them to crowd around his desk, showing them schematics of the power converter unit, the Palladium core technology, grilling them on questions and making them learn the system inside and out, wires snaking out of his chest the whole time, until he was satisfied they understood the concepts. By this time, the class was vibrating with mischievous excitement, exactly the way Tony liked them.

It wasn’t just that he got a thrill out of getting his students excited about the things that got him excited, and it wasn’t just flexing his genius muscles, either. Or the satisfaction of showing off, or the countless hours spent building and inventing in his office. One of the most essential and enjoyable parts of Tony’s job as an electrical engineering professor at MIT (in his opinion) was aggravating the professor next door, Dr. Bruce Banner. Tony had to aggravate him; if he didn’t, Tony might actually kill the man. Tony swore he could shove a lump of coal up Banner’s ass, and in a week, Banner would sh*t out a diamond.

Their offices shared a wall, their classrooms shared a wall, they ran into each other incessantly, whether in the hall, the courtyard, even the damn bathroom. And every time, Bruce was insufferably constipated, bitching at him ceaselessly about his music, his rowdy classes, doing lab days with the kids when they were supposed to be in Bruce’s class… Jesus, the man was an absolute wet blanket, squeezed down into an ultra-concentrated, uptight ball of tenured rage. So when Tony plugged the last wire into his chest, he just grinned.

“Okay. Power output energy conversion. First one to tell me the conversion algorithm gets to pull the trigger.”

This time it was Peter Parker who rattled off the answer, the kid who was years younger than everyone else because he had graduated high school and undergrad while the others were still learning multiplication, and of course he jumped at the chance to cause some mayhem. Tony counted down for him, and everyone held their breath, silence hanging in the air like a mist in the early morning dawn, then he threw the switch and everything happened at once- a deafening boom from the transformer outdoors, a shout from the class as sparks flew from the wires, a yell of pure adrenaline from Tony, the buzz of every power system in the building surging into darkness, and the best part of all-

“TONY f*ckING STARK!”

Laughter erupted from the class and Tony faced the door expectantly and leaned casually against the lab table, shirtless and covered in a web of wires emanating from his glowing, blue-white pacemaker. He winked at the students who gathered around with wide eyes and gleeful grins to see the impending drama unfold.

“I swear to god, Stark, I’m going to-“ Dr. Banner shouted as he slammed the door to Tony’s classroom open, but then immediately pulled up short to see a shirtless and glowing Tony.

“Going to what, my dear Doctor?” Tony hummed, stretching his arms overhead in a faux yawn, only to hear a soft twitter of laughter behind him and a quiet shush. Dr. Banner’s mouth hung open like a fish, and Tony grinned smugly. “I have to say, I’m positively elated to have rendered you speechless for once. Should I take off my shirt around you more often?” Dr. Banner immediately flushed dark pink and snapped his mouth closed.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Stark. This is wholly unprofessional, what are you teaching your students?”

“Take no sh*t, leave no prisoners?”

Dr. Banner threw his hands in the air with an almighty groan of frustration and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Chattering immediately ensued, and Tony let them talk as he began to unhook himself and pull on his shirt. He was turned away winding up cables on a spool when he overheard one of the students laughing and talking as though she thought her voice wouldn’t carry.

“The sexual tension between them is thicker than mud. How long do you think until they start f*cking?”

“God, if they’re not already f*cking, I’ll lick a public doorknob. Do you see the way Banner looks at his ass in the hall? I’ve never seen someone pine like that outside of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Do you think Tony knows?”

“Nah, but he’s a genius, he’ll figure it out.”

Tony could feel his face getting hot. That was- what? They were making sh*t up. Banner only ever looked at him with distaste, certainly not-

“All right everyone, get on the portal tonight,” Tony said over the commotion as he turned back to the class, clapping his hands for their attention. “Take a look at these plans, and I want you to work on the conversion rates for the power sources listed. Read the instructions carefully, I’m tired of having to grade assignments twice because you all didn’t pass English 101. Now get out of here, you all exhaust me,” Tony finished with clear affection in his voice for his class. He got a few fist bumps and a several “have a good weekend” from his students as they left, and then he was alone with his thoughts.

There was no way. Banner hated Tony. All he did was bristle when Tony came around, and Tony certainly didn’t do anything to avoid pissing him off. Banner was everything about old-world academia that Tony hated. He was stubborn resistance in the face of innovation and idealism. He was grumpy and hated fun, and Tony was irreverent and loved blowing things up for his classes. No, the students were just talking their usual bullsh*t again, seeing giants instead of windmills.

Tony leaned against the worktable, mentally replaying as many of their interactions as he could remember.

Okay, well there was that time that Banner went to Dean Fury to complain about Tony, and Fury had pointedly told him that he and Tony were both tenured professors of endowed chairs, and that he was sure they could work it out on their own. Then Banner had come up and used the urinal right next to Tony’s in the bathroom (who does that??), started to say something in a polite voice that Tony rarely heard from him, until Tony interrupted him with a curt “not the time or place, Banner,” while looking resolutely at the wall in front of him.

Was that just Banner being socially awkward? Surely. Who honestly thinks urinal conversations are appropriate? Oh, well there was also the time when Tony was pushing an over-full cart with the parts for two Tesla coils on it, and some of the parts had tumbled noisily off the cart and to the floor. He was trying to pile them back on without success, when Banner walked by and picked up the fallen pieces to carry, and gestured at Tony to keep going where he was heading. Tony had snapped that he didn’t need any favors, Banner had scowled and snapped back that he wasn’t handing any out, that he just was tired of all the commotion interrupting his class, but then he carried the parts for Tony anyway, and even wordlessly helped him set up the coils.

And then there was the time when one of the staff had planned a holiday party, and of course Banner didn’t go. But the following Monday, there was a plastic grocery bag hanging on his office door knob, and inside were two large Ziploc bags full of homemade sugar cookies, each one frosted with a little piped ammeter symbol. The post-it on the bag read made too many, didn’t want them to go to waste -B.B.Tony didn’t really think about it too deeply, ate them eagerly, and left a post-it on Banner’s office door that said tasted great, loved the ammeter. thx, -T.S. But now that Tony thought about it, why would “extra” cookies happen to have ammeters frosted on them? Surely Tony would be the only one to get a smile out of that? Surely Banner wouldn’t have hand-frosted special electrical engineering cookies just for a person like Tony? And now that Tony thought about it, he didn’t recall anyone else saying they received cookies from Banner.

Lost in thought, Tony stared at a spot on the whiteboard long enough that the motion sensors on the classroom lights decided the room was empty and shut them off.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered, waving his arms like an idiot to turn them back on as he shook himself out of his brief mental short-circuit. He sighed, dropping his head and feeling reluctantly guilty about interrupting Banner’s class. The sugar cookies also really stuck out in his mind. Had that been a gesture of kindness toward Tony specifically? Maybe even an attempt to flirt? Because if so, then wow. Tony really was a grade-A, bonafide, oblivious asshole.

Okay. Well maybe he could try not to be an asshole, just this once. He sighed again and pushed off the worktable, gathered his full toolbelt and some insulated gloves, and headed to the roof where the transformers were located. Ordinarily he could let the campus utilities people handle it, and power would be back on in a day or two. But Tony could do it in less than twenty minutes, and… well maybe knocking out power to the whole floor was a bit of a dick move. The other profs hadn’t pissed him off after all, only Banner. And even then, had Banner actually pissed him off? Or was it just habit to think so?

Twenty minutes later, Tony opened the door to Banner’s office without knocking, to see Banner looking at a textbook by the light of his open window. Banner looked up in surprise, then frowned to see Tony there.

“What the hell do you want now?” Banner said, and Tony pulled off his gloves and reached over to flip on the overhead light.

“Nothing. Power is back on,” Tony said, and Banner had the good grace to look shocked, seemingly noticing Tony’s tool belt for the first time. Tony didn’t wait for a response, but turned heel and walked out, only just stepping into his own office next door when he heard Banner stumble out of his doorway.

“Stark,” Banner said, still looking stymied. “You got the power back on? By yourself?” he asked, and Tony nodded.

“Yeah. I know it’s hard to believe, but I do actually know how to do my job,” Tony said simply, and then it was his turn to be shocked when the barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Banner’s lips.

“Oh. Um. Thank you, then,” Banner said, looking at Tony for just a moment too long, then ducking his head right as Tony’s lips spread into a grin.

“You’re welcome,” Tony said, still grinning after Banner as he disappeared into his office. Tony stood there for a moment, his previously-solid viewpoint shifting just a bit to the left.

“Okay then,” Tony murmured to himself, closing his office door behind him and flopping on the couch to wonder what the f*ck was happening.

Two days later, he found himself leaving a power strip with an extremely fancy surge protector of Tony’s own design draped by the cord over Banner’s doorknob, with a post-it that said “for next time, -T.S.”

**********

“What is that device on your chest?” Banner’s voice said from behind Tony, startling him as he was unapologetically and illegally photocopying pages out of a textbook in the departmental office. Tony twisted to see him, and Bruce stood there in his usual bland jacket and trousers, clutching a book and his iPad to his chest with his arms crossed over it in a distinctly defensive manner. Tony arched a brow, turning back to the copier.

“Pacemaker.”

“Pacemaker? On the outside? That you use to short out power grids?”

Tony dropped his head, half exasperated, half keen to know why Banner was so interested. It wasn’t exactly like it was a secret, given several of his academic papers had been published about its design, and its origin was damn near urban legend among the students at this point.

“Yep,” Tony said. “Electromagnet powered by a Palladium-core particle accelerator. I call it an Arc Reactor. It keeps the ticker ticking, and lets me have a little fun on the side.” Tony expected Banner to give him sh*t about the “fun on the side” part consisting of disturbing Banner’s classes, but Tony had the thrill of being surprised twice in the same conversation.

“Is your heart okay? Are you ill?” Banner asked, his voice colored with a hint of concern. Tony turned to face him again, really seeing him for the first time. His mop of curly brown hair fell over his forehead, and his brow was pinched, but not out of anger. He tapped his fingers restlessly against the edge of his iPad, and seemed to subtly shift from foot to foot. Tony wondered how his students hadn’t chewed him up and spit him out, although Banner’s raging temper probably had something to do with that. But what really surprised Tony was that the question wasn’t about mechanics, or classroom decorum, but about Tony’s health. Tony frowned a bit, co*cking his head to the side.

“No, not heart disease or anything. Industrial electrical accident. I was electrocuted on an installation that happened to be located at a dam. Current stopped my heart, the 150-foot fall into the 33º water below kept it from restarting and f*cked up my chest cavity. They got me going again, but the electromagnetic signals between my brain and my heart were permanently damaged. I wasn’t satisfied with the capabilities of a regular pacemaker, so I invented this. It’s on the outside because it’s also a prosthetic support for my non-existent sternum, and also so I can also change out the Palladium core when depleted. Like after my little stunt with the power grid the other day,” Tony said, watching how Banner’s eyes widened and dropped to Tony’s chest, where a very faint glow of the arc reactor could be seen through his t-shirt.

“Oh.”

Tony snorted a soft laugh.

“Oh?”

“Uh. I’m sorry?” Banner said, and Tony outright laughed at that.

“Well I’m not dead yet, Banner, you don’t have to offer condolences,” Tony said, and Banner’s piercing gaze met Tony’s.

“But you did die. That…” Banner pushed his glasses up his nose, dropping his gaze. “That sounds terrifying, Stark. I’m sorry you went through that,” he said very softly, and Tony’s jaw hung open.

“Tony,” he said, after a beat of silence.

“Pardon?” Banner asked.

“Call me Tony. And yes, it was terrifying,” Tony said, his tone softening as well. People rarely asked after his health. They didn’t empathize with the lingering fear and pain and nightmares associated with the accident. People took Tony’s bravado at face value, and focused on the arc reactor and how it could be used to benefit them in some way. In fact, outside of his closest friends, he wasn’t sure anyone had ever commented about how the accident affected Tony in ways that couldn’t be fixed with a prosthetic.

“Tony,” Banner said, as though turning the word over in his mouth. “Then call me Bruce.” He looked back up at Tony, then at the copy machine behind him, and frowned again. “You shouldn’t be photocopying textbooks, it’s copyright infringement.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but for some reason he wasn’t as annoyed as usual as he turned back to the textbook, flipping the page and proceeding to make copies of that, too.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Tony said with a chuckle. He heard a huff behind him, but when he looked up, Bruce was gone and the door to the office was still open.

Chapter 2 Chapter Text

Tony didn’t know why, but for the next few weeks he found himself compelled to not be so egregiously annoying. No accidentally-on-purpose power outages that happened to be contained to Bruce’s office, no blasting his classic rock music in his office, no sh*tty remarks in the hallway. And surprisingly, for a long while there had been no angry pounding on the wall between their offices, no terse post-its stuck to his classroom door, and no slamming the door open to yell at Tony for disturbing yet another exam.

It was several Fridays later before Tony ran into Bruce again in more than just passing, outside of their offices. Tony was looking at notes on his tablet and sipping coffee absently as he walked down the corridor, and only vaguely took notice of Bruce fumbling with his keys, hunched over on himself, his jacket particularly rumpled. Tony barely glanced over at Bruce as he swiped his card on the keypad and wondered for the millionth time why Bruce refused to give up the damn keys and just get a key card (“because I keep research of a sensitive nature in here Stark, and key cards are less secure than physical keys.” Never mind that the door had an easily-smashable glass window for all its security, but whatever).

“sh*t. Mother fu-“ Bruce spat under his breath, drawing Tony’s attention and muttering curses as he dropped his keys. Tony slowed to watch as Bruce picked up his keys, dropped a binder in the process, then dropped the keys again because… his hands were shaking? Bruce looked ready to kick the door, and Tony quickly bent and picked up the keys and binder for him.

“You all right, Bruce?” Tony said, genuine concern in his voice. Bruce clenched his fists briefly, closing his eyes for a moment as though praying for strength.

“Yes. No. Yes. I’m fine, Star- Tony,” Bruce said in a defeated tone, finally looking at Tony. And sh*t, Bruce looked like… well, sh*t. Bags under his eyes, a tiny square of tissue paper stuck to his cheek where he’d nicked himself shaving, the buttons on his shirt shifted one over. Tony shook his head with a tsk.

“No you’re not, come on,” Tony said, opening his own office door, reaching back to grab Bruce’s wrist when he didn’t follow.

“What are you- Tony, stop!” Bruce said indignantly, but Tony dropped the keys and binder on the end table covered in books and paper, and lightly pushed Bruce to sit on the couch. Bruce just stared, and Tony bustled, pulling a couple mugs off the bookshelf; one said I’m an electrical engineer, what’s your superpower? and the other had a drawn diagram of a negative feedback loop that said I only give negative feedback. Tony gave that one to Bruce with a little grin, then sat in his chair and unlocked one of his desk drawers, pulling out a very nice bottle of bourbon that was about half-empty. He neatly poured a generous measure in each of their mugs, leaving the bottle on the end table.

Bruce looked down in his mug with a rather shocked expression, to Tony’s pleasure. But then without preamble or protest, Bruce knocked back the bourbon in a single gulp, before refilling his mug a little more generously, and flopping back on the couch with his head back against the cushion. Tony arched a brow, having expected to be scolded for storing and drinking booze in his office.

“Well then, cheers, I guess,” he said with a tone of amusem*nt, sipping his own bourbon. He looked at Bruce with interest, at how disheveled he was, and how defeated his posture looked, with his fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee, his shoulders pulled up tensely around his ears, and lips pressed thin.

“You have a poster of Christie Brinkley on your ceiling,” Bruce said mildly, and Tony arched a brow, glancing up at the aged and creased poster from the mid-1980’s of the tanned, blonde model in an orange swimsuit that showed off a mile of legs.

“Sometimes I like a nice view when I’m napping between classes,” Tony said equally mildly, taking a small swig of bourbon.

“I thought you were gay.”

“Bi.”

“Okay then.” Bruce downed the rest of his bourbon, Tony helpfully refilled it, and Bruce made a noncommittal noise of thanks. Tony didn’t press him, but watched with burning curiosity the way Bruce slowly seemed to settle quietly into the couch, probably thanks to a little liquor buzz. He stopped bouncing his leg, his grip on the coffee mug eased, and he seemed riveted by the poster.

“Is that what’s got you so wound up? Can’t rest until you find out if the hot prof next door likes getting dicked down?” Tony said, sipping his bourbon and leaning back in his chair so he could put his feet on a large, hard plastic case that held electrical components, that currently served as a coffee table. Bruce didn’t look up, but huffed a vaguely irritated breath even as the corner of his mouth quirked up a bit.

“Jesus Christ, Tony.”

“Well?”

“I don’t care who you like getting dicked down by. I was just corroborating my observations with fact.”

“Man, I bet you’re a blast at parties. You know, parties? Do you ever go to those?” Tony said, still amused.

“I don’t like people.”

“I would have never guessed. Yet here we are.”

Tony sipped his bourbon, and obliged a refill for Bruce when he held out his mug wordlessly. Bruce seemed to be running through thoughts a mile a minute in his head, and Tony had just opened his mouth to say so when Bruce spoke.

“I have a stalker,” he blurted out, and that brought Tony up short.

“What?”

“A stalker. Like someone who stalks you, acts threatening, you know-“

“No, I know what a stalker is, Bruce. Who is it? What do they want?” Tony said, leaning forward, noticing how Bruce’s fingers began a staccato against his knee again.

“My ex-girlfriend’s dad. He’s a real… God-and-guns, ultimate patriot, military man, overprotective dad type,” Bruce said, and this time Tony huffed, a slight smile tugging on his lips.

“I thought you were gay?”

Bruce turned his head slightly to look at Tony for the first time, and for a moment, his tension was broken and he had a downright impudent smirk on his face that made Tony grin back.

“Bi.”

“Okay then.”

Bruce made a sound that could be loosely classified as a laugh, then turned his attention back to Christie Brinkley and sobered up again.

“Betty and I were together a long time when I was at Culver. She’s a cellular biologist, and we initially met when we both got involved in a study regarding the effects of gamma irradiation on cellular mutation. Her dad hated me from the start, no one would ever be good enough for his baby girl, I was disrespectful and didn’t ask his permission to date her, all that bullsh*t. He didn’t like us spending so much time together, so he tried to sabotage our gamma study, and then our relationship. Well, it ended up causing him and Betty to become estranged, and he’s had it out for me ever since,” Bruce explained, his tone exhausted.

“Holy sh*t,” Tony said, frowning. “Are you two still involved?” Bruce shook his head.

“No, we parted ways amicably when I moved to Boston, but part of why I moved was to get away from him. Betty and I are still good friends, and I talked to her a couple days ago about…” Bruce paused, glancing at Tony surreptitiously, then resolutely returning his gaze to the ceiling, his cheeks a little pinker. “About stuff. And that’s when we learned that Ross had her phone tapped. The stalker stuff had mostly trailed off since I moved, but then last night a letter was in my mailbox telling me to not talk to her again, or I might find myself missing my cat. And the letter wasn’t postmarked, which means someone personally put it in my box.”

Bruce sat up suddenly, looking at Tony with anguish in his eyes.

“What if they mean it? What if she’s in danger? I swear to god I’ll throw someone off a building if she gets hurt.” Bruce sagged back with a tense sigh, holding his mug in both trembling hands and staring at the dark liquid inside. “I took her to the vet this morning to board for a few days just to be safe, then came home and got ready, but I was a wreck. And then I walked out to the car, and in the time it took me to shower, someone had pulled my windshield wipers off and stuffed a rag in my tailpipe.” Bruce closed his eyes, worry and tension clear on his face.

“Holy sh*t,” Tony said, this time with real alarm. “Bruce, that’s some serious sh*t, Jesus! Have you called the cops? Can you prove it’s him? There’s got to be-“ Tony trailed off when Bruce shook his head again.

“He’s an untouchable, Tony. Former 5-star general, current Secretary of State, the great Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross. There’s not a cop or judge or government official who would lay a hand on him, and he’s got FBI and CIA friends crawling all over and enough money to buy off anyone who might challenge him. I feel like there’s always someone watching, and nothing I can do to stop him. At this point he won’t even hear a word from Betty. My own home isn’t even safe, and my poor baby hates the vet.”

Tony shook his head, setting aside his mug, and turning in his chair to tap a few commands into his computer to fire up a particular tracking program.

“Oh hell no. Bruce, he doesn’t sound like he’s f*cking around. I don’t care if he’s the Galactic President, that is utter bullsh*t and he doesn’t get to be a cowardly f*ckstick and hide behind his position to get away with it, got it? You’re coming home with me. We’ll go pick up your cat, she’ll be safe at my place; not to be smug, but the security systems there run circles around whatever playground nonsense the CIA is working with. What’s your cat’s name?” Tony said, already thinking thirty steps ahead. It didn’t matter what his previous feelings about Bruce were, the man was sitting here in clear danger and distress, and there was no way in hell Tony was going to be like “sucks to be you” and send him on his way. Especially with a cat involved! Bruce sat fully upright at this point, looking at Tony, bewildered.

“Olivia Mewton-John,” he said, frowning. “I don’t need to stay at your place Tony, that’s- no, I’ll be fine, I’m not bringing you into this-“

“Olivia Mewton-John?” Tony said, turning back to Bruce with a laugh. “Really? Did you name her, or did Betty?” Bruce scowled, but jutted his chin defiantly.

“I did. What are you doing?” he said, ignoring Tony’s snort, and nodding at his screen.

“I’m sending Dean Fury an email that we’re both taking off early, and to cancel our classes for the rest of today. Let’s leave your car here, go get your cat, and we’ll head back to my place and then start doing some delightfully illegal poking our noses where they don’t belong,” Tony said, his fingers flying over the keyboard as fast as his mouth ran, then he snapped the screen closed on his laptop, shoved it in his bag with an armful of other things, then looked at Bruce expectantly, who had stood, but was frozen in place. He stared at Tony in shock for a few moments.

“But you’ve been drinking.”

Tony co*cked his head to the side and then rolled his eyes, then picked up his mug and poured the contents into Bruce’s mug.

“I barely had two sips, I’m good to drive. Couldn’t let a man think he was drinking alone, could I?” He stood, then frowned at Bruce. “Out of all this, the part that concerns you the most is my having had some booze?”

“I mean…”

Tony sighed, resting his hand on Bruce’s shoulder with a reassuring smile.

“C’mon, roomie. No one is getting f*cked like this on my watch. Especially when I’m not the one doing the f*cking.” Tony winked and squeezed Bruce’s shoulder, reveling in his immediate blush, then shouldered his bag and returned Bruce’s keys to him. “Need to grab anything before we go?” Bruce took the keys and stared at them in his hand, seemingly in shock. Tony sighed, but his voice was gentle. “Bruce. It’ll be okay, I promise. I’m going to help you with this, all right?”

“What about… my clothes?” Bruce murmured, like his brain was short-circuiting and he couldn’t think of the right questions to ask. Tony smiled, and for once in his life was patient.

“We’re about the same size. You can wear mine. Do you want to grab anything out of your office? Laptop or book or something?” He asked. Bruce nodded, fumbled with the keys, and handed one to Tony, apparently remembering his struggle to open the door earlier. Tony took the keys, got Bruce’s office open for him, and locked his own door as he waited. When

Bruce finally emerged with a full shoulder bag, Tony nodded.

“Okay then. Ready?” Tony said, and Bruce nodded, then ducked his head.

“Thank you, Tony. You don’t have to do this. I know you don’t even like me, and I’ve been nothing but an asshole. So, um… I really appreciate this,” Bruce murmured, shuffling slightly as though he wasn’t sure where to put his arms as he talked. Tony smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. If something happened to you, who else would I annoy? Fury doesn’t give a sh*t, Coulson thinks it’s funny, Rogers is too oblivious to notice, and the building staff already have enough on their plates. You’re the only one around here who makes it fun to be an asshole,” Tony said with a grin, mock-punching Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce nodded at the ground, but Tony could tell he was smiling too.

“Thanks. It’s such an honor, I’m speechless,” he murmured, glancing up at Tony through a curl of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Seriously, though.”

“I know. You’re welcome.”

Tony let his hand linger on Bruce’s shoulder as they walked to the car, and Bruce didn’t seem to mind at all.

Chapter 3 Chapter Text

“Bruce, I swear to god you need to chill,” Tony said, gritting his teeth as he wove in and out of traffic on the highway. They had picked up Olivia from the vet already, along with a litterbox and food, but Bruce insisted on holding her carrier in his lap. But Bruce was a nervous, paranoid wreck, constantly twisting around to look out the back windshield to check if they were being followed, leaning over to look at Tony’s side mirror, and just generally being restless and agitated.

Olivia howled her displeasure at the cramped quarters and constant jostling, and the air was filled with the constant cacophony of honking horns, construction equipment on the roadside doing a stretch of repairs, and Bruce’s tense, constant murmuring to Olivia in an attempt to soothe her, which only made her howl louder. Tony was two seconds away from putting them both out on the side of the highway.

“Don’t you think that Lincoln back there has been behind us for a while?” Bruce said, and Tony checked his mirrors for the thousandth time, displeased to note that yeah, they’d been on the same route for an uncomfortably long time. He veered suddenly, making Bruce yell and Olivia screech as he cut across three lanes and barely got on the exit, watching as the Lincoln zipped right on by it.

“Tony! What the f*ck?!”

“We’re taking the scenic route. I don’t know if they were following, but better safe than sorry,” he said, glancing to the side to see Bruce chewing his thumbnail and white-knuckling Olivia’s carrier with his other hand. Tony reached out and gently took Bruce’s wrist and pulled his hand down to rest on the center armrest, noting that his cuticle was bleeding from being chewed.

“Hey. What all did you put on your exam last Friday for your theoretical particle radiation exam, huh? All my students looked like they aged ten years overnight and sat in my class like zombies with shell-shock. I even made floating lightning balls that you could hold in your hand but would still burn paper, and you’d think I was lecturing them about how to wax a floor. What’d you dazzle them with this time?” Tony said in a calm voice with a small smile, shifting so that he could rest his elbow casually on Bruce’s forearm so he wouldn’t start chewing again. Bruce looked at him in confusion and a slight amount of panic, before he seemed to realize that Tony was trying to help distract him, and went along with it.

“Um, well… we’ve been working on overlapping radioisotope patterns in long-wave interstellar travel,” Bruce started hesitantly, but the enthusiasm he had for the subject was clear as he talked, surprising even Tony. He thought it sounded pretty fascinating actually, and asked a lot of questions, even as he subtly kept an eye out for following cars and signs that Bruce might be freaking out again. So when they finally pulled safely into Tony’s garage, Bruce seemed to startle out of his reverie.

“Oh. We’re here already?” he asked, seeming to sag in relief as the garage door closed behind them.

“Yep. Careful when you get out, I’ve got some tools laying around over there,” Tony said, getting out and grabbing Olivia’s supplies and his bag out of the backseat. He was bent over picking up a book from the floorboard when he heard Bruce exclaim, and Tony stood upright too fast, gripping the car door as his head spun.

“What! What is it?” he said, worried, only to see Bruce hovering a hand over the glossy, cherry-red, devastatingly sexy 1962 Chevy Corvette, parked at a roguish angle in what was clearly part of an enormous workshop extension on the garage, with the hood up and a variety of tool chests nearby.

“Corvette,” Bruce mumbled, and Tony chuckled, setting his stuff on the step to the house and joining Bruce’s side.

“Yes, that’s a Corvette,” he said in a teasing, placating voice that one would use on a child, and laughed when Bruce scowled.

“I know it’s a Corvette. I was surprised, is all.”

Tony grinned, grabbing a rag and squinting at a smudge on the fender, then proceeding to polish it away.

“This is Lola. I bought her from Dr. Coulson in the tech securities department. He gave up on his mid-life crisis and never did get around to finishing her restoration, but she’s been a pet project of mine for a while, and I’m almost ready to take her for a spin in public and drops some jaws and panties,” Tony said with a fond look at the car, and Bruce looked under the hood with impressed fascination.

“Tony, this is… it looks brand new, that’s-“ Bruce stopped, bending closer to a part that looked rather out of place and emanated a soft, blue glow from under a shiny gold plate, and squinted. “What’s that?”

“Hover conversion unit,” Tony said with deadpan seriousness and a twinkle in his eye. Bruce’s head shot up, his eyes wide as he tried to figure out if Tony was serious. After all, if anyone would be hiding hover tech in his garage as a “pet project,” it would definitely be Tony Stark. Bruce huffed an uncertain laugh.

“Shut up, it is not.”

“C’mon, it’s chilly in here and Olivia probably wants to use her litterbox,” Tony said, shouldering his bag again and walking past his comparatively pedestrian orange Audi towards the door to the house.

“Tony! I mean it, what is that?” Bruce exclaimed, following on Tony’s heels.

“Hey, can you turn off that light? Switch is over there,” Tony said as he nudged the door open with his hip.

“So you’re just going to pretend it’s a hover conversion unit. You think I’m going to believe that?” Bruce demanded, rather absently following Tony through the expansive Victorian house that was jarringly sleek and futuristic inside, up a sweeping double staircase, and to a very large and well-appointed guest room, where Tony shut the door behind him.

“Yep, designed it myself,” Tony said, purposefully keeping his voice neutral, but positively delighted that Bruce was so off-balance over what was actually a fancy nitrous casing with a few decorative LEDs. But the diversion was doing its job. Bruce was much less tense, was completely distracted, and since his tone was less agitated, Olivia had stopped crying. Tony took the carrier from Bruce and set it on the floor, handed him the litter to set up, and went to the attached bathroom to fill a bowl with water. “Works on repulsor technology. Electron-Muon conversion into an ionized sub-magnetic pulse. It warps the existing magnetic field and uses the vacuum as propulsion.”

This was an actual pet project of Tony’s, but he hadn’t perfected it (yet). However, he spoke with authority as he came back in and sat cross-legged on the floor, pulling down Bruce by the wrist to sit beside him so their knees were touching.

“It runs off the same tech as my arc reactor, utilizing ion plasma,” he said conversationally, leaning forward to open Olivia’s carrier as he spoke. Bruce just stared at him as he spoke.

“Ion plasma has a negative energy output,” Bruce said, and Tony sat back, wiggling his fingers at the open door to the carrier.

“Not when you repel the electrons from the hydrogen atom. Call her name, let her know it’s safe to come out,” Tony said, and Bruce seemed to snap out of a hypnosis, startling as he looked around and realized he was safe in Tony’s house, in a lovely guest room, with his cat all set up nicely and the two of them sitting on the floor together, and he barely even registered it all. He returned his gaze to Tony, who smiled at him with a very self-satisfied expression, and Bruce shook his head.

“You were just saying all that to keep me distracted because I’ve been freaking out,” Bruce accused without heat, and Tony shrugged, grinning widely.

“Was I?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, then chuckled and turned his attention to Olivia with a kissy sound.

“Ollie, come here, sweetness, it’s okay. Tony is our friend, he’s taking good care of us, come say hi?” Bruce said in the softest, most adoring and affectionate tone, and Tony was breathless for a moment at the whiplash. Bruce sounded positively tender when he spoke like that. Bruce smiled at Olivia, and Tony smiled at Bruce, and Olivia eyed them both, but eventually came out to sniff and lick Bruce’s fingers, then crawl into his lap for a cuddle.

“There’s papa’s precious Ollie-Jollie baby, you’re so brave, spending all day at the big mean vet, I bet you complained the whole day, didn’t you?” Bruce cooed, scratching his extremely floofy tortoiseshell cat with pumpkin-orange eyes between the shoulders, while she made little chattering sounds and head-butted his chin.

“God this is too cute. I need to film this and show it to your classes,” Tony murmured, and yeah, it really was the cutest f*cking thing. Bruce shot him an affectionate glare.
“Don’t you dare,” he said, then chuckled when Olivia walked across his lap to stand in Tony’s, giving him a sniff and then an aggressive head-butt. Tony laughed too, giving her a good back scratch and eliciting a robust purr.

“Well aren’t you good at wrapping people around your queenly little paw? Are you like this with all the boys Brucie brings home, or just the cute ones?” Tony teased, getting a groan out of Bruce. Tony gave Olivia a little grin, his eyes crinkling as he leaned forward conspiratorially, as though listening to her whisper a secret in his ear. “Oh? Every Friday? Wow, I never knew. He must be very good. And he kicks them out at the end of the evening? Doesn’t even feed them breakfast in the morning? Oh my, what a cruel and selfish lover your papa is,” Tony said, dissolving into laughter when Bruce flushed dark pink and shoved his shoulder. Bruce reached out for Olivia, who eagerly hopped back into his arms, and Tony fell on his back to the floor in peals of laughter.

“Don’t you listen to him, Ollie, he’s a known rogue and scoundrel, but don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he said haughtily, giving Olivia a kiss on her fluffy forehead, then looking at Tony with a newfound comradery. “Thank you, Tony,” he added more softly, and Tony sat up on his elbows to smile back.

“Feeling a little better?”

“Yeah. I- I appreciate the effort. I know I’m… a lot,” Bruce said, his eyes cast downward as though ashamed. Tony nudged him with his knee to catch his gaze again.

“Hey, so am I. It’s okay. Why don’t we go order some food? C’mon, pizza sound good?”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Bruce said as he stood. Olivia wriggled with a slightly annoyed meow, so he let her jump down and weave around his legs. “Sausage and green olive?” he added with a hopeful tone, and Tony made a face.

“Absolutely f*cking not. If you want green olives on your pizza, you can sleep on the floor in the garage beside Lola.”

“Let me guess, you prefer pineapple,” Bruce said, wrinkling his nose, and Tony led the way back down to the enormous kitchen like the leader of a parade, with Bruce in tow and Olivia bringing up the rear, her magnificent tail like a flagpole and her substantial floof floating as she trotted.

“The superior topping, of course,” Tony said, sitting down at the kitchen table and using his arm to push a pile of small circuit boards, some tangles of wires, a cold soldering iron, and what looked like a metal exoskeleton shaped like a hand to one side of the long table. He tapped away on his phone for a pizza order, then set it aside and made an amused huff when Olivia jumped up to explore. Bruce sat too, picking up a scrap of wire and dangling it for Olivia to play with. His lips were pressed thin again.

“Tony, you don’t think I’m overreacting, do you? Ross has never… I don’t know, it’s not like he’s sent me death threats or anything, but it’s always in the back of my mind that if he wanted to make someone ‘disappear,’ he probably could,” Bruce said quietly, and Tony folded his arms on the table, watching the cat play.

“I don’t know, Bruce. Harassing you until you move states, then having someone literally walk onto your property to threaten your cat and then damage your property just to ‘send a message?’ That seems like enough to take seriously to me. What other stuff has he done? For how long?” Tony said, and his frown deepened as Bruce went on to describe everything from canceling departmental funding to spamming his phone and email, to being followed by an unmarked van that parked on his street at night, to having his tires punctured and windows broken, and not just when he was at Culver, but off and on in the years since he’d moved to Boston.

But Tony really tensed up with a sick roll of his stomach when Bruce described being in multiple hit-and-run car accidents, getting cornered by a group of guys who beat the sh*t out of him and left him in a Walmart parking lot in the middle of the night with a broken arm and no phone, and how no one was ever identified in any incident, leaving him half wondering if he dreamed it all up because he had no way of proving anything. Bruce was slumped as he spoke, and Tony noticed how tense and rigid the line of his back was as he hunched in on himself, the way he clenched his fists together on his knees, the way one foot bounced nonstop, and the way Bruce seemed to stare through the table.

“I feel like I don’t have any recourse. The cops look the other way, I get dropped by lawyers because they get intimidated off the case, it just seems like I keep getting met with dead ends and just have to deal with it,” Bruce said, trailing off as Olivia came and settled on his lap in a ball, a heavy weight across his legs and his balled-up fists. “Betty even tried to step in, but her dad denies everything.”

“Is Betty safe? You don’t think he would retaliate on her too, would he?” Tony asked, and Bruce shook his head.

“No, I think she’s safe, his whole thing is trying to scare off people from ‘stealing her away.’ I’m the one who really got targeted though, because she was with me when she finally cut him out of her life for good. He squarely blames me for ‘poisoning’ her against him.” Bruce sighed, disentangling a hand from Olivia so he could pull off his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Bruce… this… this is heavy. Not sending you death threats? It sounds to me like he’s skipping right past the threats and going straight to the attempted murder. God, this is… I don’t even know what to say, and you ought to know by now that’s a rarity.” Tony’s mind was whirling, trying to think of when these things might have occurred since Bruce had been here, and suddenly having a clearer understanding of why Bruce was so uptight and short-tempered all the time. “f*ck, I can’t believe you’ve had to just live with this like that. Do you think he has his hands in some unsavory pies?” Tony asked, thoughtful. “Anything we could bring to light that he might not be able to weasel out of?” Bruce gave him a sardonic glare.

“He’s a politician and a career military man, what do you think?”

“Okay, point taken,” Tony said, raising both hands in a disarming gesture. He stood and dug through his bag, returning to his seat with his laptop. “Before we left, I started running a securities analysis on this. I put in your address- don’t give me that look, it’s in the faculty directory- and have had it working to find any sort of surveillance in the area that it could breach,” Tony said, angling the screen so that Bruce could see the lightning-fast stream of data displayed in different areas. Tony hummed absently as he typed and scrolled, then pulled up four screens.

“All right, well it looks like there’s a red light camera at the intersection there, we have two neighbors with doorbell cameras, and looks like a neighbor was doing a Facetime video around the time you said your windshield wipers were hit. Let’s see what we got, huh?”

Bruce looked like he wanted to say something for a moment about the morally grey implications of Tony cavalierly accessing private security systems like it was nothing, but he eventually just bit his lip and gave Tony a short nod. Tony did a little fiddling with the videos to enhance them, and they watched each one carefully. Bruce seemed uncomfortable while watching the Facetime call, but Tony muted it and while it wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up, it wasn’t like they were going to publicize the footage, either. Bruce was chewing his thumbnail again, when he stopped suddenly and leaned forward, squinting.

“Wait! Scroll back a few seconds,” he said, then looked at one of the doorbell videos. Both videos showed a man walking down the sidewalk, who then veered out of sight near Bruce’s driveway, and appeared again a few doors down, casually walking as though just having a stroll. After a few moments, Bruce sat back, his expression tight with fury. “That’s Emil Blonsky,” he said in a low, brittle voice, and Tony immediately brought up a data search for this guy. “He’s a special ops guy who worked with Ross, some f*cking flunky bootlicker that he keeps around to do the dirty work for him and make him feel important. Ross was always trying to get Betty to go on a date with him,” Bruce explained derisively, scowling at the screen. “Why am I not f*cking surprised.”

“You sure it’s him?” Tony asked, glancing up as he typed.

“Yeah, I’d recognize that rat-faced, walking hemorrhoid anywhere. He’s been breathing down my neck for years,” Bruce muttered, then fell silent as Tony worked. He typed furiously for a while, then closed the laptop with a flourish.

“All right, that’s gotta cook for a bit. I’m doing some deep dives into our friends’ behind the scenes habits. I get the feeling that there’s a few threads we’re going to want to pull, but it might not be until morning before anything comes up. The pizza should be here soon, let’s go try to chill out, yeah?” Tony said, getting up and grabbing an armful of beers from the fridge and heading toward the living room. Bruce followed, looking around a little more attentively, now that he wasn’t immediately distracted by the stalking stuff.

He glanced into the foyer to look at the sweeping double staircase again, then at the ornate, stained glass transom windows over every arched doorway, each one depicting vibrant and detailed nature scenes. He turned back to Tony, who was flopping on a low, modern couch and flipping on the enormous TV that was nested in a wall of carved built-in shelves, laden with not just books, but ultra-modern stereo components, little machines that Tony built, and glass panels that displayed what looked like holographic readouts of housing systems, security fields, cameras, temperature, and humidity. The house was a study in contrasts, between opulent Victorian sensibilities, and a sleek, hyper-futuristic aesthetic.

“You have an… interesting house,” Bruce said, joining Tony on the couch, sitting a little stiffly on the edge, where Tony practically sat on his back, slouched down with his feet on the clear acrylic coffee table. Tony glanced at him.

“Interesting as in you hate it but don’t want to be rude, or interesting as in you really want to know if there’s a secret room behind those shelves, but are worried you’ll sound stupid if you ask?” Tony said with a little smirk. Bruce smirked right back.

“The latter.”

“I’ll show you later,” Tony said, winking. Bruce snorted, but kept looking around.

“Seriously though Tony, this is… a lot of house for a professor. Even a tenured one. It’s like a mansion or something,” Bruce said, looking up at the high ceiling, impressed by the frescoes painted in the corners.

“That’s because it is,” Tony said, flipping through channels. “Stark Mansion. Been in my family for three generations. I don’t generally go for the frou-frou stuff, but I grew up visiting my grandparents here, so I’m fond of this particular frou-frou stuff. Couldn’t quite abide by the brocade couches though; those had to go.”

“Wait, Stark Mansion? Like Walter Stark, the inventor? This is that Stark Mansion?” Bruce asked incredulously.

“That’s my grampa. He got a few pretty significant patents, so did both my mom and dad, and so did I,” Tony said, starting to get a little flustered. He was sure everyone knew he was sitting on some money, but he kept it vague for a reason because he really would rather be known for his brains, than for inheriting a fortune and being labeled as some airheaded trust fund baby. He turned his head toward Bruce, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“I earned my position at MIT, just so you know. I earned my degrees and PhDs. I didn’t buy them, and I didn’t get grandfathered in because of who my family is,” Tony said, his chin jutting defiantly and tone bleeding into challenging. He hated this. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much that Bruce saw Tony for his own accomplishments and not write him off as a smart guy’s idiot son, but something about the last few weeks, particularly the last day, compelled Tony to want Bruce to know the real him. But to Bruce’s credit, he looked horrified.

“No! Oh my god, I wasn’t implying-“ Bruce started, but then he gave Tony a look, one that sarcastically read ‘you’re kidding me, right?’ “You really think I could share an office and classroom wall with you all these years, read your research, watch you do incredible projects with the students that make me jealous because it’s all they talk about in my classes, and see you walking around casually with a f*cking particle accelerator in your chest, and not think you’re a genius of your own accord? Hell, I’m sitting here next to you 98% convinced you really do have a flying car sitting in your garage, because you’re so f*cking good at what you do that it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to think you could make something like that in your spare time,” Bruce said, his words spilling out in a rush, his cheeks going a little pink at the admission of admiration in his words.

Tony stared at Bruce, stunned to hear him say such kind things, and had to snap his jaw shut so he didn’t look like an idiot. A wide smile did creep onto his face though.

“You’re jealous of me?” he said smugly, earning an exasperated groan from Bruce.

“That’s what you take out of all this?” Bruce huffed, annoyed, then flopped back on the couch to match Tony’s posture, resolutely staring at the TV and not making eye contact. “Yes. I am jealous,” he mumbled, seemingly a herculean admission, and Tony was speechless for almost a full minute.

“Wow,” he said mildly, turning his attention to the TV as well. “I always thought you thought I was some hack off the street, or like… I don’t know, an annoying TA,” Tony said, trying for cavalier, landing on vulnerable.

“Not at all, Tony,” Bruce said, his voice soft. “You do something extraordinary that I’ve never been able to figure out, and it’s an albatross around my neck. You make learning fun. You love what you do, you find joy and excitement in it, and you give that to the kids so they find joy and excitement in it, too. How? I love what I do too, but when I teach it, it comes across so boring and dry, and the kids are falling asleep and texting, and I can never figure out how to show them how exciting it is. So yeah. I’m jealous.”

Huh. Tony was fully taken aback.

“But- it’s not even my field, and I’m excited about theoretical physics! There’s so much overlap! I mean, the development of photonic energy transfer and hard light are just the perfect example. I wouldn’t have even been able to create this thing in my chest without all the research you published on-“ Tony said effusively, then cut himself off abruptly. Now it was his turn to flush dark pink. Well, he supposed they both had a fan club of one then, huh? He saw Bruce look at him from his peripheral vision, and could tell his expression was as smug as Tony’s had been earlier.

“You used my research?” Bruce asked, and Tony suddenly found a loose thread on his t-shirt to be intensely riveting.

“Well, yeah, I mean. It’s small, but it’s still a particle accelerator, and you did all that research on anti-electron collisions, and… it was useful. One might even say… unparalleled,” Tony said. Bruce was unbearably quiet, then turned his head back to the TV.

“Huh.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what I said,” Bruce said, and when Tony sat up to look at him, Bruce was grinning broadly.

“What’s that look on your face for?” Tony demanded, and Bruce sat up too.

“We should teach a joint class together,” Bruce said, and this time Tony beamed without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Bruce laughed, and Tony realized it was the first time he’d ever heard Bruce laugh. Not a derisive snort, or an exasperated huff, or a reluctant chuckle, but a real laugh. The more interesting part though, was Tony realizing just how much he liked the sound of Bruce’s laugh.

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but they found themselves chattering enthusiastically about this hypothetical class they might teach, to the point that Bruce pulled out a tattered old pocket flip notebook and a chewed-up pencil to take notes, and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Are you serious right now?” he said, exasperated, and Bruce shrugged.

“I like analog.”

“Of course you do,” Tony said, getting up as the doorbell rang, and coming back with pizza, breadsticks, and paper plates. He opened the box on the coffee table, and Bruce made a small sound that was endearingly soft.

“You got me sausage and green olive!” he said, looking at the pizza in open appreciation, which was half sausage and green olives, and half pineapple and bacon. Tony shrugged, handing him a plate.

“Well, I didn’t anticipate taking in two animals, but I’m not going to let either of them starve,” he teased, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust when Bruce picked off and ate a few olives, but happily offering Oliva a little bite of bacon when she came to inspect.

“Not too many handouts, she’ll puke in your bed,” Bruce warned, but gave her a little piece of sausage, too. They ended up eating and drinking their beers and talking eagerly about science, cats, Bruce’s attempts at creating a table-top wormhole, Tony’s weird house, Lola, their various exes, and crop circles (because why not), and it didn’t even feel like time was passing. Tony hadn’t felt this comfortable and enthusiastic talking to anyone in a long time, besides maybe Rhodey. At some point, Tony dragged Bruce by the wrist over to the bookshelves, and made him figure out the puzzle that would grant him access to the actual secret room that really did exist.

Bruce was suitably impressed, especially because the room led to another secret door to Tony’s workshop behind the garage. Tony showed him his projects, his little robots that he liked to build, his palladium core banking station, and took him downstairs to what used to be a Cold War bunker that stretched as far as the eye could see, that was set up with what looked like a large-scale particle accelerator and a bigger version of the arc reactor in Tony’s chest.

“Holy sh*t,” Bruce breathed, eyes wide, and turned to Tony in awe. “Why the hell are you a professor and not the top research hotshot at CERN?” he demanded. Tony shrugged.

“I like to teach.”

Bruce just shook his head, reaching out hesitantly to touch a glowing blue hologram model, only for his hand to pass right through it.

“Unbelievable.”

Tony just watched Bruce, and while yes, Tony felt pride and appreciation, he also felt… something. Bruce’s eyes were just lit up. Ross and Blonsky weren’t even in his mind at all, and listening to him talk about- well, literally anything, was something Tony didn’t want to end. Bruce’s smile was soft and unassuming (how could he sound so angry when he yelled at Tony through the classroom walls? It was like he was a different person), and he had no problem keeping up with or even challenging Tony on his own tech. It was kind of exhilarating. Not to mention…

“So this runs your entire system?” Bruce said, turning towards Tony and pointing at the large arc reactor, and Tony tore his eyes off Bruce’s appealingly round ass just in time. How dare some nerd professor with an anger problem have an ass that nice? Although Tony was a nerd professor too, and he was pretty proud of his own ass, so…

“Yeah, this is a totally off-the-grid property. I’m working on patenting an energy transfer coil to convert this into something that can be fed back into the grid and banked for when there’s mass power drains or brown-out,” Tony said, as they started walking back upstairs to the house. “It’s been taking longer than I hoped to get it right, but I don’t want the power to dissipate. I specifically want it to be banked, but not in traditional battery packs. Those are too big and too expensive.”

“You said you had a bunch of patents already?” Bruce said, and Tony nodded.

“Yeah, a few of my own, and I hold the rights to the ones my dad, mom, and grampa had.”

“Like what?” Bruce pressed.

“Oh… you know, little things. Synthetic fishskin tape for plumbers, fire-retardant silk, nonmetallic superconducting plastic alloy, wireless charging receptors, Plexiglass, Velcro-“

“Velcro? You own the patent to Velcro and that’s a little thing?” Bruce said in disbelief.

“Yes?” Tony said, slowing his walk.

“You invented Velcro.”

Chapter 4 Chapter Text

Tony slept well, but had been sitting at the kitchen table with Olivia, looking through data on his laptop for several hours when Bruce finally shuffled downstairs in Tony’s pajamas with the hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like sweater paws. Tony had to take too-big gulp of coffee to cover up the fact that his first thought was hot hot cute hot omg hot wtf hot cutie wearing my clothes f*ck too hot-

“Sleeping Beauty awakes,” Tony said instead, waving his coffee mug in the direction of the coffee maker on the counter. Bruce merely mumbled something incoherent, got a coffee, and sat beside Tony, staring into the distance and absently petting Olivia when she moved from Tony’s lap to Bruce’s.

“Not sleep well?” Tony said, arching a brow, and Bruce shook his head.

“Slept fine. Not a morning person,” he mumbled, causing Tony to chuckle.

“You drink a lot of caffeine?” Tony asked, turning a bit in his chair to watch Bruce, amused at his halo of messy curls and scruff that was already coming in.

“Usually I just rely on whatever bullsh*t you annoy me with during classes to get me woke up,” Bruce mumbled, giving Tony a sidelong glance with a small smile. Tony nodded sagely.

“Mm, yes, I do like doing my loudest labs first thing. Gets the heart pumping,” Tony said, and at the mention of his heart, he noticed that Bruce’s glance dropped to Tony’s chest for a moment, where the arc reactor was fully exposed through a hole he’d cut in this particular tank top last the time he wore it, in a fit of frustration during a wiring experiment. Bruce’s gaze slid to Tony’s bare arms, then quickly away, seemingly to study a photo of Tony and Rhodey grinning over a shared piece of cheesecake, that was stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

“Boyfriend?” Bruce asked.

“Best friend. Brother. Been friends since we were kids; his family sort of adopted me as one of their own when my parents died,” Tony said softly, fondly. “James Rhodes, I call him Rhodey. Military man, but I promise you he’s one of the good ones,” Tony quickly added, remembering Bruce’s derision towards the military, which Tony couldn’t blame him for, given his experience with Ross. Bruce made a noncommittal noise, studying some of the other pics that Tony had up; he and Pepper playing air hockey with Rhodey yelling over Pepper’s shoulder, and a pic of Tony as a kid with his first robot. Bruce smiled at that one.

“That’s the robot in your workshop. What is he called?” Bruce said.

“Dum-E. My favorite idiot child. Don’t drink anything he makes you if you value your life,” Tony said fondly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bruce murmured, then nodded at the computer. “Did we dig anything up overnight?” Tony gave Bruce a smug little smile, angling the screen toward him.

“As a matter of fact, we did,” Tony said, pulling up what looked like page after page of emails, several audio files, text transcripts, and a list of bank records. “How does tax fraud, illegal lobbying, extortion, blackmail, theft from charitable organizations, a whole slew of personal indiscretions, and a big ‘ol heaping pile of treason sound?”

Bruce’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as he stared at the data, reaching out to flip through screens and becoming more and more stunned as he read.

“Are you f*cking kidding me? Tony, where did you find all this?” Bruce breathed, as if hardly daring to believe it was real.

“Well I’ve been working on this learning AI system. Figured now was as good a time as any to let him really stretch his metaphorical legs. His name is JARVIS, but I haven’t finished his speech processors yet. You can thank him later,” Tony said. “Anyway, I really think if we compile this the right way, cover our tracks, and release it to every news and political agency we can find, maybe even lock him out of his accounts when it happens, he’ll get knocked so hard off his pedestal that he’ll land in a cell and not even know what happened.”

“Holy f*cking sh*t,” Bruce breathed.

“Yup,” Tony said, feeling vindictive satisfaction. They might not be able to hurt Ross over stalking Bruce, but they could hurt him worse where it counted- his political and military career, reputation, and pocketbook. Bruce looked up at Tony, and Tony frowned to see a look of almost panic on Bruce’s face.

“Tony, I knew his hands weren’t clean, but I didn’t know it was like this! f*ck! No, you absolutely cannot release this. Treason? Jesus, he would have you killed! No way, it’s too dangerous. I can move states again, or… or not contact Betty again, you have to delete this, cover your tracks, I- no you can’t-“ Bruce said, shaking his head and words spilling out of his mouth in a rushed panic as he looked at the seemingly never-ending data. He abruptly pushed the laptop away from him, and Tony reeled.

“Bruce! Hey, look at me, look,” Tony said, catching Bruce’s wrist, but the man looked genuinely scared. Tony moved his grip to hold Bruce’s hand, took his other hand as well, and tugged at him to turn and face him. “I’m not releasing anything yet, okay? Just take a breath with me. We’re not doing anything. All we have to do is sit here for a bit and have some coffee and pet Olivia, okay?” Tony said, his voice soothing and calm. He smiled a bit at Bruce, breathing deeply for him to mirror, and squeezed his hands. “C’mon. Look, she wants a kiss.” Tony guided one of Bruce’s hands to pet Olivia, who was indeed standing on Bruce’s lap and trying to lick his chin.

Bruce absently began petting Olivia, but his eyes were riveted to Tony’s as though Tony was a lifeline, and Tony’s whole world at that moment was Bruce. Tony was quiet, just breathing together, and there was nothing that could break that ephemeral silence filled with only shared breaths and tandem heartbeats. Soon enough, Bruce closed his eyes and seemed to sag a bit.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, and Tony squeezed his hand.

“Don’t apologize.”

“He’s too powerful, it’s too dangerous to challenge him.”

“Even Goliath was toppled by a tiny pebble in the hands of someone who was sick and tired of his sh*t,” Tony said gently. “We can do this. We can stop this once and for all.” Bruce looked at him, his expression almost desperate.

“But why?” Bruce whispered beseechingly. “Why me? Why would you do this for me? This will put a target on your back, I- I don’t think I could live with myself if- if-”

“Because what he’s doing is wrong, Bruce. And if he’s that powerful and that corrupt, I guarantee you’re not the only one he’s done this to,” Tony said firmly, fiercely. Bruce looked unconvinced, so Tony squeezed his hand again. “Listen. It’s Saturday, you’re here, Olivia is here, and we have a Cold War era bunker under our feet with miles of secret tunnels that I haven’t even shown you yet; you’re safe here. Why don’t we take the weekend and just go through all this slowly, take our time and put together a hypothetical case, and once we really know the magnitude, we’ll talk about the risk. Okay? Let’s not worry about telling anyone yet. Let’s just figure out what we’re looking at first, yeah?”

Bruce looked dubious, but finally nodded hesitantly.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. Um, where do we even start? There’s just so much here…” he said, his tone already overwhelmed, and Tony wanted nothing more than to reassure him.

“Well, why don’t we start with breakfast? How about I get JARVIS to categorizing all of this so it’s not such an overwhelming mess, we eat some food, and then we go down to my secret lair and hash it all out?” Tony said, pleased that he startled a little snort out of Bruce.

“Secret lair?”

Tony waggled his brows, grinning.

“Would you believe me if I said you ain’t seen nothing yet?” Tony said, and Bruce seemed to debate a moment, before shaking his head at his lap with a helpless laugh.

“Well, maybe yesterday I might have said you were full of sh*t, but I get the feeling you have a lot of tricks up your sleeve that I can’t even fathom,” Bruce said, and Tony laughed.

“Bingo. Now do you want frozen gluten-free waffles, or frozen White Castle sliders?” Tony stood, then put his hands on his hips when Bruce burst out laughing. “What?” Tony said, and Bruce’s smile faded.

“What the f*ck Tony, you’re serious?”

“Yes?”

“You eat frozen sliders. For breakfast.”

“Again, yes?”

“Jesus Christ, get out of the way. I’m not going to let the man saving my skin eat frozen sliders on a Saturday morning.” Bruce stood and pushed past Tony, muttering to himself even as Tony spluttered indignantly, but then Tony found himself staring in awe as Bruce managed to procure a veritable baking aisle of supplies from places Tony didn’t even know existed (Pepper and Rhodey were surely responsible, he would have to remember to thank them).

Soon Bruce was putting a tray of soft, pillowy biscuits in the oven, and indulgently flicking little bits of ground sausage to Olivia as he fried it up in the pan. Tony hovered curiously, asking questions and generally getting in the way until Bruce patiently took him by the shoulders and sat him firmly at the table. But the monumental challenge of staying put was well worth it when Bruce finally slid a plate in front of Tony piled with two of those buttery, cloud-like biscuits, smothered in the most mouthwateringly savory sausage cream gravy Tony had ever seen, accompanied by two perfect over-medium eggs.

“Whoa,” Tony breathed, genuinely speechless, a response which seemed to please Bruce very much. Tony took a bite, closed his eyes, and groaned, and honestly thought he’d passed out and was dreaming. “Bruce. This. This is like- like- I don’t know. I’m gonna get a hard-on. sh*t.”

“Tony,” Bruce said, flushing bright pink, but looking very happy nonetheless. “I’m surprised you even had the stuff to make it. I’m gonna guess you don’t cook much, since everything was still sealed up new.” Tony shook his head, talking around a full mouth.

“If it’s not coffee, carryout, or frozen, I don’t usually have it around. I tried to cook a few times and it was disastrous. Know thyself, as Socrates liked to say.”

“Listen to that, Ollie. He’s quoting Socrates at me over breakfast. The utter nerve,” Bruce said amiably to Olivia, who reached a paw up for a handout, which Bruce of course indulged. Tony wadded up his napkin and threw it at Bruce.

“I see where you get your bad manners, Olivia,” Tony said to her with mock-scathing judgement and a twinkle in his eye, and Bruce had the good grace to feign indignance while slipping Olivia another handout.

Tony was vocally appreciative of the meal, and Bruce seemed quietly pleased as he subtly continued to pile food on Tony’s plate, until Tony finally groaned.

“Stop, you’re like my Great Nonna, she won’t stop feeding you pasta until you pass out,” Tony protested, shooing Bruce away weakly with an overdramatic sigh, but was secretly intensely delighted to have been treated to such a wonderful meal and kind gesture. Bruce chuckled and cleared the plate away instead.

“Your Great Nonna never taught you to cook?” he teased, and Tony let himself hang limply in the chair, already feeling like he needed a nap.

“I was too busy creating sentient machinery.”

“Ah yes, playing God does tend to get in the way of the culinary arts.”

“Hush,” Tony said, not hiding his smile, eyes closed and face content. He heard Bruce chuckle, and the telltale sound of the dishwasher opening, and Tony got up, shooing him away again. “Stop. You cooked, I’ll clean.” Bruce stepped away from the sink, and Tony washed up while telling Bruce about his Great Nonna’s cooking and visiting his Italian mother’s family overseas. When he turned back to the table, Bruce was looking at him thoughtfully, and Tony was a little startled by the intensity of his gaze.
“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just feel like I’m in for a long weekend of being constantly surprised by you,” Bruce said softly, and Tony felt his face heat up.

“Hopefully in a good way,” he said, busying himself with hanging the dishtowel to dry.

“Yeah, in a good way.”

Well. Tony didn’t know what to say, and for some reason was genuinely flustered, something that almost never happened to him. Why did Bruce seem so intense all the time? Even in his quietest, most thoughtful moments, Tony felt like the man was radioactive, just glowing with intensity. And the thing was… Tony liked it. He liked being off-balance, liked being taken by surprise. So often, Tony was the one with the swagger and bravado, talking people into stunned silence, gathering attention away from his vulnerabilities and directing it where he wanted it to be, like a magician distracting the audience with sleight of hand. He was always the sure-footed one.

But not now. Tony felt like being around Bruce was like getting on one of those amusem*nt park rides that drops you in a free fall, but you realize right as the car drops that your lap belt isn’t fastened, and all you can do is hang on. And this was just after a day. Tony was already a little overwhelmed. And yeah, he liked it.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to stay on my toes then, huh?” Tony said, his voice a little strained, but he put on a smile, and nodded his head towards the stairs. “Want to get showered? I’ll dig out some clothes for you while you get cleaned up.”

“Sure. Thanks,” Bruce said, returning Tony’s smile and following him upstairs. Tony made sure he had towels and shower stuff, then went to his own room to dig through his closets and drawers. He pulled out some tshirts, a cardigan, some jeans that absolutely made Tony’s ass look like a million bucks and was sure would do the same for Bruce, and some socks and a pair of sneakers. Then Tony hesitated over another drawer. Would it be weird to share underwear? Probably, but Bruce would be here for god knows how many days with none of his own clothes, and Tony couldn’t expect the man to just go commando and get a chafe, could he? Tony pulled out some underwear, smirking a bit as he did. He’d leave it up to Bruce.

He carried the armful of clothing to Bruce’s room, where the door was cracked, and Tony could hear the sound of the shower from the en suite bath. Tony nudged the bedroom door open with his hip and quietly left the pile on Bruce’s unmade bed, then headed to his own room to get ready to clean up as well. He dawdled though, sitting on his bed shirtless and looking at his phone, and smiled broadly at the screen when he heard a muffled shout.

“Tony!” came Bruce’s voice from the guest room, and then the sound of annoyed footsteps filled the hall. Tony’s door burst open, and Bruce stood there in nothing but a towel, brandishing a red satin thong at Tony. “Really? You gave me a thong to wear?” Bruce demanded, then his words evaporated as he laid eyes on Tony’s shirtless chest with its glowing reactor.

Tony, to his own credit (or extreme lack thereof) said nothing, but boy howdy did his eyes just about fall out of his head. Bruce’s curls dripped on his shoulders, and little silvery droplets ran in rivulets over his chest (and his nipples, god his nipples), slowing to cling to the unruly chest hair that Tony had the sudden urge to touch. An equally furry thigh was visible all the way to the hip from the folds of the towel, and Bruce’s skin was flushed and pink from the hot water.

Neither one of them said anything for far too many moments.

Tony finally managed to smile crookedly, breaking the tension a bit.

“Don’t get all worked up, I left some boxers in the pile too,” Tony said in a would-be dismissive tone, but his voice was a little strangled and he knew that Bruce heard it. So he covered up his gaffe with his usual method of too much motion and too many words, announcing that he was going to get showered too, if Bruce had bothered leaving him any hot water (which of course he did, Tony had an industrial water heater).

Bruce snorted as Tony disappeared into his own bathroom, and when Tony heard the bedroom door click closed, he sagged onto the edge of the tub, looking down at his own lap with scandalized horror to realize he was half-hard inside his pajama pants, just from seeing Bruce (Bruce f*cking Banner of all people!) in a goddamn towel. What, was Tony 13 years old again, getting wood over the women’s bra and men’s underwear advertisem*nts in the Sears Catalog?

“Get it together, Stark,” Tony muttered, stripping off and getting into the shower, resolutely not jerking off, even though the mental picture of Bruce standing in his doorway, dripping wet in a towel, would not exit his f*cking imagination. Nor would the image of Bruce’s towel dropping to the floor, revealing him to be wearing that red thong. Nor would the image of Bruce turning his back to Tony and bending over to pick up the towel, with a thin strip of red satin disappearing between two perfect, round, bouncy ass cheeks that Tony wanted to bury his face betw-

Tony shuddered, gasping, trying to stop that train of thought unsuccessfully, and planted both hands on the tile wall as hot water sluiced over him, and dripped from his now extremely-hard co*ck. No, it wouldn’t do at all to dwell on the next time Tony pulled on that thong, knowing that at one point it might have hugged Bruce’s co*ck all day, might have nestled warmly against what was probably a very f*ckable-

“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” Tony muttered to himself. How? How the f*ck? Tony was the antagonist to Bruce’s life, wasn’t he? No… no, that was Ross. Well then Tony was at least the annoying neighbor, right? The quintessential enemy? Except at some point, at some time, enemy had become frenemy, and at some point, quite recently and quite abruptly, the enemy part had dropped away entirely to just become friend. A friend who seemed to step into the spotlight of Tony’s mind and imagination, and would not leave.

Tony washed quickly, leaving his groin for last, but it had to be done. He scrubbed, but couldn’t help but stroke his straining co*ck with a slick, soapy hand, just once, until a soft, helpless noise escaped his throat and he yanked his hand away like he’d touched fire. He turned the faucet all the way to cold so that his skin exploded with goosebumps and he hissed in frustration.

He had just become friends with Bruce. He wasn’t going to f*cking masturbat* and fantasize about him, when he was right down the f*cking hall. Tony forced himself to stay under the cold water until he caught his breath, was shivering vigorously, and his erection subsided, but he still felt hot under his too-tight skin as he got dressed. In almost a sub-conscious revenge at Bruce for being unfairly hot, Tony put on his most sinful jeans, a black tank top that was probably just too tight to be socially acceptable, and headed downstairs.

But right as he walked into the living room, Tony realized his mistake, and choked on his own spit. Bruce was there in the living room with his back to Tony, wearing Tony’s jeans that hugged every curve of Bruce’s ass and thighs, standing on his tip toes to reach a book on a high shelf. His t-shirt was hiked up around his stomach as he stretched, revealing two bright red strips of satin, where Bruce had pulled the thong up above the waistband of the jeans so it was visible where it clung to his hips and disappeared into the cleft of his ass.

Yes, Tony realized his mistake. Instead of jerking off and getting it out of his system, now Tony was going to be thinking of nothing else all day except peeling Bruce out of his jeans with his teeth and seeing what was hiding behind that towel, and that heat that was already prickling inside him was going to be simmering under his skin like lava all f*cking day.

Bruce caught the book and turned when Tony choked, and smirked. Tony almost swallowed his tongue. Bruce’s eyes twinkled, but he said nothing about the very f*cking obvious red thong in the room, and instead adjusted his crotch.

“Why do you wear your jeans so tight?” he said casually, walking over to the couch and sitting down.

“Um.”

Bruce looked up at Tony, who had literally just squeaked, and Tony didn’t think it was possible for a man to look more smug or for his own brain to buzz so loudly.

“Something wrong?”

“You didn’t actually have to wear it, I said I gave you boxers, too,” Tony blurted out, his cheeks hot and flushed, then he made a frustrated noise, waved a dismissive hand, and walked to the kitchen to go look at JARVIS’s progress on his laptop, intensely aware of Bruce’s gaze following him along with the sound of a soft laugh. When he sat down and looked up, Bruce had his head craned so he could see Tony, and his cheeks were pink too.

“It looked comfortable,” Bruce said gleefully from the other room, and Tony groaned under his breath. Mistakes were definitely made.

Chapter 5 Chapter Text

Another bank of motion-sensor lights flickered on, rolling down the cavernous room, illuminating it with both overhead lighting and a rather atmospheric and futuristic glow from the floor itself. Bruce slowed his walk, his jaw dropping slightly, as the long bunker disappeared into darkness way, way in the distance.

“It keeps going?” Bruce said, a little weakly, then turned and looked back behind them. They were deep enough in the bunker that it almost felt like they were in space; blackness on either end of them, with glowing, smooth whiteness surrounding them. “How far out from the house are we?” Tony squinted back the way they came, glancing up at a small hanging sign with a number on it, that appeared tucked away against the walls now and then.

“I’d say we’re about as far out as the Poplar Fountain in Memorial Park,” he estimated, referring to the expanse of park that rolled away across the street from the mansion, a beautiful land with botanical gardens, trees, playgrounds, an outdoor concert shell, a pond that served as an ice skating rink in the winter, and the aforementioned Poplar Fountain, a huge and ornate fountain topped with a tall, graceful, art-nouveau statue of a woman by Alphonse Mucha, that had been commissioned by Tony’s great-grampa. Bruce turned back to him, his expression even more stunned.

“Poplar Fountain? That’s- that’s in the middle of the park, Tony,” Bruce said, looking up at the tall ceiling as if to confirm that the fountain was over their heads.

“Yep,” Tony said, smiling.

“But- but that park has got to be over a hundred acres…”

“One hundred twenty-three acres, actually,” Tony said, arching a brow when Bruce looked at him again.

“That’s… doesn’t the city take issue with you having a tunnel running under their park?”

“Well, they might if they owned the park. But they don’t, I do. And it’s not just a tunnel, it’s a network of tunnels and rooms that is like a web under the entire park, and three levels deep,” Tony said, taking great pleasure in the way the hamster in Bruce’s head fell off its wheel.

“You own Memorial Park.”

“I do.”

“Wh-“

“I know. It’s a lot.”

“There’s more than just this tunnel?”

“You have no idea.”

Bruce said nothing, and then abruptly sat down. Tony looked down at him, amused.

“You okay down there?” Tony asked lightly.

“No,” Bruce said with a helpless laugh, shaking his head. “Why the hell- who the hell built all this? Why?”

“Well, my grandparents were really into this huge Victorian sex cult thing, and the tunnel network was built to mirror this series of constellations that they would perform these ritualistic orgies under, and it was all tied into the Illuminati and Freemasonry, so there was this whole shadow government Jesus f*cking Christ Bruce, look at your face, I’m just making sh*t up,” Tony said, dropping to sit beside Bruce, and laughing when Bruce flopped down on his back with a relieved groan.

“I don’t know what the f*ck to believe that comes out of your mouth anymore,” Bruce said, and Tony chuckled, laying down beside Bruce too, propping his feet up against the wall.

“It was originally a series of ventilation shafts to accommodate the exhaust from my grampa’s forge and a few other machines he had that produced a lot of emissions. He didn’t want a big smoke stack or a visible workshop in the back yard of a pretty house, so he created the tunnels to disperse the exhaust. The park wasn’t originally a park, it was just a field with ventilation units. But as the machinery began to get replaced with more modern tech that didn’t need ventilation and when the Cold War hit, he and my dad sealed off the exhaust vents, reinforced everything with lead and concrete, converted tunnels into rooms, and turned the vent field into a family park to honor veterans, so the city wouldn’t decide to claim it as imminent domain and start digging foundations there,” Tony explained. “So not quite as thrilling as a sex cult, but considering it’s a hundred and twenty-three acres of nuclear blast-proof Cold War shelter that is stocked well enough to feed and house thirty people for 60 years, it’s still suitably weird.”

“Not weird, eccentric,” Bruce corrected with a chuckle. “So this is all bunker then?”

“No, I’ve converted most of the areas closer to the house into useable spaces; workshops, fabrication areas, server rooms, there’s a bowling alley in there, theater room, that kind of stuff. That way I didn’t have to do major demo on the house itself, since it’s a historical building. Also, it’s pretty and I’m sentimental and I don’t want to turn the parlor my gramma taught me to play piano in into a server room. I actually spend a lot of time down here though, and I have solar tubes in most areas, so I get actual daylight, too...”

Tony trailed off, and it seemed like his memories echoed off the walls and rolled down the corridor into the darkness. “There’s just so much of it. Sometimes I-“ Tony chewed his lip a moment. “What you’re looking at is what most of it looks like, especially the lower floors and as you get further from the house. But I’m just me. No family, really, no one to share it with or let use it. It all just kind of sits there.”

Tony fell silent, thinking about the truth of his words. A lonely inventor and engineering professor, drifting aimless and alone through his bizarre labyrinth of ghost tunnels. Damn, he didn’t even have a cat or dog for company, just his bots, and Rhodey and Pep when they were in town. Starting to sound real pathetic there, Stark, he told himself. He saw Bruce turn his head from his periphery.

“Thanks for sharing it with me,” Bruce said, and Tony smiled at the ceiling.

“I’m glad I could.”

Bruce stood after that, offering a hand to help Tony up, and Tony was reluctant to let go of it. But he did, and they walked back towards the house, to a sprawling, comfortable, bright workshop on the first level, just past the garage. They spent several hours parsing the data that JARVIS gave them, working out what was relevant, what was hearsay, looking up laws and court precedents, and compiling everything methodically into a massive document with citations and a press release.

It was arduous and exhausting work, and both of them were getting headachy by mid-afternoon, when one of Tony’s holographic displays flashed a small alert in the corner. Tony went over to it, reading the note from JARVIS, and he instantly tensed up. Bruce must have seen it too, because he was at Tony’s side in a heartbeat.

“What? What is it?” he asked, worried, and Tony shifted the display to show Bruce.

“Remember that Lincoln from the highway yesterday? It seems to be sniffing around,” Tony said grimly, and a series of short videos played from the various security cameras Tony had around. They were all from various times during the day, since they’d been down in the bunker and workshop, and showed the silver Lincoln driving by slowly on four different occasions, then parked down the street just a little ways, where it waited around for awhile, then left. No one got out, no one was visible, but the house was unlit and appeared unoccupied, and the driver didn’t return. Immediately Tony could feel anxiety rolling off of Bruce.

“Oh no…. oh sh*t…” Bruce muttered, backing away from the display. “He knows I’m here, he- he knows I’m with you!” Bruce turned to Tony with wide eyes. “I have to go home, I can deal with him there, you have to- please keep Ollie, I know she’ll be safer here, I can’t-“ he babbled, and Tony went up to him, taking both his hands.

“No. You’re staying here. Cold War bunker, Bruce. Palm and retina scan to enter. There’s nothing he can do to get us. Ollie is down here, we have food, it’s fine,” Tony said, very calm, even though his heart was pounding too. No matter how safe they were in the bunker, it was still intensely unnerving to have someone’s potentially violent stalker staking out your house while you were there. “What is he going to do, break my windows? He’ll be in for a nasty surprise- they look Victorian, but dad had them replaced with bulletproof when I was ten.” Bruce twisted away, then went to the couch and sat, face in his hands.

“This has me so messed up, Tony. I just don’t know if I can ask you to do this. I’m just- just so f*cking furious! And I can’t do anything about it and I can’t just drag you into it with me! f*ck!” Bruce said, his voice bleeding into a livid shout as he stood again in agitated frustration, raking both hands through his unruly curls.

“I said I’m not going to-“ Tony started, but he jumped, startled, when Bruce rounded on him, his face red.

“But why? Why the f*ck would you help someone like me?!” he shouted, then immediately seemed to curl in on himself, wrapping his arms around himself as though trying to force his temper back to acceptable parameters. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he mumbled, and Tony felt a flash of anger himself.

“Stop it, dammit, you’re allowed to be angry! Jesus Bruce, the man is trying to ruin your life! He’s trying to scare you out of asking for help by intimidating anyone who tries! Listen, I’m telling you right now that I don’t scare easily. You don’t go through what I went through and not learn how to fight back,” Tony said fiercely, going to Bruce and taking him by both shoulders, shaking him a little to catch his gaze, and Bruce looked a little unhinged and a lot desperate. “I’m helping you because I want to. What he’s doing is wrong. And I don’t give a f*ck about our past history. You’re my friend now, and I’m not leaving my friend out to dry on this one.”

Bruce just stared at Tony like he was terrified of this being a cosmic prank, like he was sure Tony would withdraw his offer and his friendship at any moment, but Tony was steadfast. And then like an autumn leaf crumpling under the weight of someone’s boot, Bruce just wilted, folding into Tony’s arms and pressing his face into Tony’s shoulder. Tony wasn’t even surprised. If anything, this felt (almost alarmingly) natural. Bruce took a shaky breath.

“He’s going to try to hurt us. You. He’s going to try to get to me through you, I promise. Tony, you have to know this,” Bruce murmured, his voice saturated with muffled anguish.

“I don’t care.”

“Well I do.”

Tony rested his cheek against Bruce’s temple, tightening his arms around him.

“I have a lot of resources, Bruce. At the very least, I have a lot of money and can buy protection. He’s not going to lay a finger on me,” Tony said, with more confidence in his voice than he actually felt.

“He won’t have to lay a finger on you. He could get his hands around your throat from a prison cell, without ever touching you.”

“You saw how long my reach is, how easily I found his records. He’d never be able to hide it.”

Bruce finally pulled back, and Tony felt a sharp pang to see there were tears on his cheeks. However, there was a tentative smile on Bruce’s lips that Tony felt compelled to match.

“You just have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Bruce said sardonically, and Tony shrugged.

“Guess so.”

Bruce sighed again, pulling away completely to sit on the couch again, weariness weighing down his frame.

“Let’s do it,” he said quietly, but his voice was resolute, and he looked up at Tony with steely determination in his eyes. Tony grinned.

“Atta boy, I knew you’d come around,” Tony said, sitting beside him and pulling close a monitor. Together, they made a plan. First, set up an alert if that Lincoln came back. Tony planned to run him off if that happened, and at first Bruce protested, until Tony showed him a proximity program that he could use to track Blonsky’s phone if he could get close enough for a few minutes.

Then they needed to contact Betty on an encrypted line and bring her into the fold, as well as Rhodey. Then they’d finish the press release, lock Blonsky and Ross out of their accounts, erase their footsteps, and send it out to every media source possible. It was a good plan. Risky (downright dangerous), time-consuming, exhausting… but when the final nail was in the coffin, there would be no way for Ross and his team of cronies to weasel out of this.

It was well after three in the morning when they finished, having only subsisted on a few cans of ravioli and energy drinks, and both of them were dragging ass in a major way. Betty was on board entirely and on her way to one of Tony’s private villas for an impromptu “vacation” where she couldn’t be tracked, Rhodey was skeptical and asked a thousand security questions, but Tony could hear the betrayal in his voice to hear the things Ross had done in his abuse of power. He promised to do whatever they needed, and seemed to take Bruce under his wing without hesitation.

Tony arranged with Dean Fury for a few extra days off for them both under the guise of a sudden potential grant opportunity for the department, so the school obligations were on the back burner for now. The portfolio was ready, and they’d decided to release it Sunday evening, so it would make breaking news first thing Monday morning. At this point, there was nothing left to do.

Tony sagged back onto the couch with a sigh, bags under his eyes and hair disheveled, and Bruce did the same, looking just as rough. Olivia didn’t even stir, draped bonelessly over a warm computer component, surrounded by her little hoard of cat toys and treats.

“As much as I love crashing down here, I want a real bed,” Tony mumbled, not moving, and Bruce grunted in agreement, also not moving. Several silent minutes passed.

“Are we in bed yet?” Bruce mumbled, and Tony huffed a little laugh.

“Almost. Let’s go upstairs, big guy.” He heaved himself off the couch, pulled Bruce up, and the two of them plus a very sleepy cat headed upstairs to their rooms, not even stopping for a snack. After bleary goodnight, Tony closed his door and shucked his clothes, leaving them on the floor. What a weird f*cking day, he thought as he pulled the cover up, and that was all he managed to think before he fell straight to sleep.

Chapter 6 Chapter Text

“Tony? Tony, wake up.”

“Mmph…” Tony mumbled, pushing blindly at the hand that lightly shook his arm. The hand shook him again, and Tony blinked awake just enough to see bright sunshine haloing a wild mop of hair that framed a worried face. “Bruce?”

“Good morning,” Bruce said, and Tony rolled so he could rub his eyes and get his bearings. Morning. Late morning, probably. And Bruce was sitting in pajamas (Tony’s pajamas) on the side of Tony’s bed, smiling, even though his eyes were tight with worry.

“Bruce? What. What time?” Tony mumbled, confused. He sat up, the covers falling into his lap, exposing his bare chest. But to his credit, he was bleary enough that he didn’t register Bruce’s gaze flicker down and back up.

“It’s a little after ten. I just got up and went downstairs to get some coffee, and that Lincoln is parked out front,” Bruce said, getting right to it, and that woke Tony up in a hurry.

“sh*t.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.”

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Why the f*ck didn’t my alert-“ he muttered, and Bruce handed him his phone from the bedside table, which was blinking.

“You had the volume off,” he said with a little smirk, and Tony snorted.

“Classic. Let’s see,” he said, taking the phone and logging into security. Sure enough, the silver Lincoln was there, parked across the street and back a little ways. But it was all the other information that came with the report that made him frown, then seethe. “All right, time to go pay our friend a visit,” he said, showing Bruce the report, watching his face take on the same anger.

“All right, let me get dressed,” Bruce started, and Tony stopped him.

“No. My house, my tech, my chance to send the message not to f*ck with me,” Tony said, and Bruce nodded.

“Fine, but I’m coming out there if he tries anything. I’m not afraid to throw a punch,” Bruce said, and Tony chuckled.

“I’d expect nothing less,” he said, throwing the blanket off his lap so he could get up, then looking up at Bruce in surprise with the man yelped and turned around to face the door. “What?”

“Tony! You’re- you’re f*cking naked!” Bruce exclaimed, standing abruptly. Tony looked down, his relaxed co*ck lying comfortably against his thigh, and he chuckled again.

“Well at least I didn’t have morning wood,” he said, and Bruce turned around as if to scold him, then whipped back toward the door, his face beet red that he saw Tony’s nakedness again.

“I’m going downstairs,” Bruce said in a strangled voice, leaving, and Tony howled with laughter behind him.

A little brainstorming session later, during which Tony had to talk Bruce down from going out there and starting a fight (which… Tony knew Bruce had a temper, but this was entirely different, and let’s just say that Tony would be delighted to see this particular rumpled, bespectacled physics professor go full UFC fighter in the middle of the street).

Tony took a long path from around the back of the house and down the block, and sure enough, there was the same silver Lincoln from the highway and surveillance cameras, parked under a tree across from the mansion. The driver’s side window was down, offering a full view of the house, and a man was slouched down in the driver’s seat, pointing his phone camera at the mansion. Tony felt a flash of possessive, protective anger, and approached the Lincoln silently from behind, bending over and leaning his forearms on the driver’s side door abruptly, startling a yell out of the man sitting in the car.

“Hi there,” Tony said with a faux-bright smile that was not friendly in the slightest, leaning into the man’s space enough that the man inched away from Tony uncomfortably. “I can’t help but notice that you’ve followed me around on the highway, have driven by my house here several times this weekend, and have spent, according to my myriad of surveillance and security devices that monitor mine and the adjacent properties, a total of three hours and 57 minutes sitting in this rental car that you have reserved for three more days from Rental Fleets Etc. on 43rd street, watching my house, from where you’ve sent at least fourteen photos to a one…” Tony made a show of looking at his phone, “[emailprotected]?” Tony looked over the rim of his lavender-tinted sunglasses at the beaky man- Emil Blonsky- mentally agreeing with Bruce that he really did look like a rat-faced hemorrhoid. He relished the shock and then startled fear on Blonsky’s face as he registered what Tony said, and just how much Tony knew. Tony’s smile was a razor-sharp line of teeth.

“Ah, good. I’m glad to see you’re following. Now I know Stark Mansion is on the National Register of Historic Places, but I’m afraid I don’t offer private tours, Mr. Blonsky. So why don’t we pretend that that’s why you’ve been lurking, and you just move along now and get yourself a cheeseburger and rent a p*rno in your hotel room, number 317 at the Lakeshore Hilton, and make sure you don’t drive down this street again,” Tony said, his voice lowering into something that very few people sought to challenge. Blonksy said nothing, but quickly rolled up the window and screeched away from the curb, nearly hitting a cyclist in his haste to leave. Tony stood in the street and watched him go until the car was out of sight, then stalked back inside, not bothering to take the roundabout path he took earlier.

“I was able to match the data signal on his phone. We’ll know if he gets within two miles of either of our houses or phones,” Tony said grimly, locking the door behind him and joining Bruce, where he’d been watching nervously from a spot mostly hidden by the long velvet drapes in the formal dining room.

“Did he give you trouble?”

“Not a word, just took off. But he definitely knows I’ve been looking into him, so they’ll probably be expecting something. We’re going to be fine,” he finished a bit more firmly, already cutting off Bruce’s protest. At this point, Tony was all in. He didn’t care that he was definitely putting himself at risk. Bruce wasn’t just a coworker anymore, and every byte of data they studied yesterday just made Tony hate Ross even more. But Tony could also tell this was killing Bruce. Having it drag out for so many years, escalate out of nowhere time after time so that he lived on constant edge of being attacked again, seething with constant anger because he was helpless to stop it, and then pulling someone into it with him who would be targeted just as mercilessly? Tony could see why Bruce was so uptight, high strung, and private.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Tony,” Bruce said in a very quiet voice that rendered Tony a bit speechless for a moment, before he covered it with a light snort.

“You’d probably have lost your temper and pulled a Professor Banner, and pulled up to Ross’s house and screamed at him until you decided whether or not to actually knock his block off,” Tony said amiably, and it was Bruce’s turn to snort.

“You make me sound stronger than I am,” he said, shaking his head at the ground and pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“You’re already strong, I don’t need to exaggerate. If I’d known just how strong, I would’ve tried to tempt you into pinning me against a wall a long time ago, just for the fun of struggling,” Tony said, delighting in the instant blush on Bruce’s cheeks and his resolute refusal to make eye contact.

“Why are you always such a flirt? Jesus, I feel like I need to go to a confessional just from passing you in the hallway,” Bruce muttered, a smile in his voice as he picked a cuticle as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Tony’s eyebrows shot up.

“Is that so? What exactly goes through your head when you see me that would require a visit to confession?” Tony purred, stepping a little closer, his flirting definitely edging on that dangerous line between just messing around, and actual efforts to get Bruce to go through with pinning him to the wall. When Bruce didn’t step away, Tony was surprised, but his breath caught when Bruce finally leveled him with a look saturated in smoldering intensity, finished with a rather dark little smirk.

“I’m sure you’ll find out eventually,” Bruce said, his voice matching Tony’s purr, and then he was moving closer, and Tony was frozen in place, his eyes half lowering as though expecting a kiss, because f*ck if his mind wasn’t whirling from the sudden realization that he wanted that. He wanted Bruce to kiss him. It wasn’t just harmless needling at the guy anymore, it was very much, and very suddenly real. Tony leaned in almost imperceptibly, and then-

-and then Bruce brushed past Tony, that same dark smirk on his lips as their shoulders bumped lightly and Bruce’s knuckles grazed Tony’s hand, and then Bruce was heading to the kitchen, calling for Olivia to come get breakfast, and Tony stood next to the window, well and fully reeling.

“Okay then,” Tony muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was getting unexpectedly complicated. He dropped his hand and closed his eyes, letting his head flop back with a groan. “I’m going downstairs!” he finally shouted, stomping a bit dramatically to the door that led to the bunker workshop, followed all the way downstairs by the sound of Bruce’s laughter.

Chapter 7 Chapter Text

The rest of the day passed far too quickly, and much to Tony’s disappointment, their flirtatious banter gave way to tense anxiety, until late that evening, when the press release was ready to be sent. Bruce had been pacing the workshop for nearly an hour, muttering out loud, vacillating between vehemence in their choice to bring Ross down, and very real fear of retribution (mostly against Tony, which Tony didn’t want to admit was really touching, since it wasn’t exactly like a lot of people truly cared for his well-being).

When Bruce finally slumped on the couch and dropped his face in his hands, Tony came to sit by him, and uncharacteristically said nothing. Instead, he just reached for one of Bruce’s hands, and held it in both of his, warm and firm, and just let Bruce sit with him. When Bruce eventually looked up at Tony, his eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed.

“Okay. I can- we can do this. Let’s do this. Before I change my mind again,” Bruce said, and Tony squeezed his hand, not bantering as he pulled Bruce over to the monitor where the small red “send” icon was blinking like a cursor, waiting for a decision.

“Have at it, Brucie. Take the f*cker all the way down,” Tony said gently, giving him an encouraging smile, and Bruce took a deep breath, then tapped the icon. There was a whooshing sound, then the document onscreen folded into a paper airplane and flew offscreen (one of the more enjoyable of silly programs Tony had created out of boredom), and then that was it. They stood in silence for a minute, then Bruce huffed a little laugh.

“Seems kind of anticlimactic,” he said, and Tony chuckled.

“Guess we have to wait until morning for the fireworks. Let’s get some food, god, I’m about to pass out. Do you have another joint in your bag?” Tony said, stretching his hands up over his head, the corner of his lip quirking up to see how Bruce glanced at his exposed stomach and licked his lower lip, but Tony didn’t press it.

“Yeah, um. I have a couple more,” Bruce mumbled, then seemed to stumble after Tony when Tony headed upstairs.

Tony settled at the kitchen table with Olivia in his lap, and scratched her behind the ears and under the chin until her purrs rivaled those of Lola, and watched in fascination as Bruce managed to produce a wonderful pasta dish with a mouthwatering pink vodka sauce, that left Tony once again astounded by his culinary expertise. When Bruce brought two heaping plates to the table, Tony eyed the plate, then Bruce.

“Remember when you didn’t come to the faculty holiday party because you said you had, and I quote, ‘no interest in fraternizing like a horny undergrad at a contrived party full of drunk people who didn’t want to be there or talk to you?’” Tony asked abruptly. Bruce paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, looking at Tony suspiciously.

“Yes?” he said slowly.

“And then the next week you left me a bag of cookies with little ammeters piped on them and a note that said you made too many?”

“Yes…? He said more slowly, his cheeks getting pink.

“Did you really make too many? Or did you hand pipe cute little symbols onto all the other faculty’s cookies, and they just failed to mention the nice gesture?” Tony asked. Bruce looked down at his food and ate a bite as though to stall for time.

“I had extra. But I gave them all to you,” Bruce said at his plate, and Tony nodded, suppressing a wide grin.

“Ah. I, uh. That was really special. I. I appreciated it. A lot,” Tony said, falling over his words like an idiot, but not feeling embarrassed in the slightest. Bruce chuckled lightly.

“Tony, that was years ago.”

“Well I guess it made an impression then, didn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Tony was debating whether it was a comfortable or uncomfortable silence, when Bruce spoke up again.

“Remember when the latch on my office window broke during that storm and my office flooded, and ruined all those books? And some of them were antique, out of print texts that I’d been collecting for so long, so I was really upset?” Bruce asked, and it was Tony’s turn to look resolutely at his napkin, knowing exactly the incident in question.

“I remember.”

“And then a couple weeks later I came in and there was a box on my desk, and it was all the books I’d lost, but they were all first editions or signed by the author or both, with dust jackets and everything? And the note said they were from you, that you saw the ruined books in the trash and happened to have them all laying around and figured I may as well have them before you donated or trashed them to make room on your shelves?”

“…Yes?” Tony said, knowing by now that Bruce knew that was a blatant lie (especially given the size of his house and bookshelves).

“Did you really have them laying around?”

“No,” Tony said softly, for once telling the truth in a moment of vulnerability. “I tracked them all down. It was- I mean, you lost a lot of books, and first editions aren’t cheap-“ Tony started to protest, then trailed off when Bruce shook his head with what sounded like a fond sigh.

“Yeah Tony, they aren’t cheap. Why did you spend so much on me? You- I thought you hated me…”

“Sympathy for a fellow academic?” Tony said, looking up at Bruce through his lashes, and flushing at the intensity of Bruce’s gaze. “C’mon Bruce, that was so long ago, we weren’t even tenured yet…” he demurred. Then he looked back up when Bruce stood abruptly.

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce mumbled, and Tony sat there in silenced shock, listening to the sound of Bruce running up the stairs to his room, until he returned with his tattered, thick leather journal that was stuffed with papers and notes. He opened it and flipped through to a page, then pulled out a faded neon pink post-it note that was a little creased on one corner, and held it up for Tony to see. Tony’s jaw literally dropped as he read the text in his own writing. Hey, had these laying around, was gonna trash them to make room on my shelves, but figured you could use them. Hope you don’t mind hand-me-downs, T.S.

Tony gaped, and then Bruce wordlessly pulled out another post-it, faded neon green, with the same neat draftsman’s script. Tasted great, loved the ammeter. thx, -T.S. Tony couldn’t believe that Bruce had saved those notes. He pulled out another, this one on an index card, that had a long rant about the grant proposal that McMullen had written, and how it was sh*t and they weren’t going to get the grant and how the whole department was going to suffer, so if Bruce valued his software, unplug everything before leaving his office on Friday, because Tony was feeling like causing some lightning. In retrospect, Tony wasn’t even sure why he’d left it for Bruce, but he knew he’d left it in a coffee-fueled, 3am rage when he was stuck in his office at school trying to straighten this grant mess, and was yelling at his own mini-fridge at that point, but all of that was secondary to the fact that Bruce had saved the note.

Tony shoved away from the table abruptly, going downstairs to the workshop and letting the door slam behind him, and when he came back up with a metal box the size of a shoebox under his arm, Bruce was frozen in a half-stand, like he wasn’t sure if Tony was coming back, and was going to clear their plates because he had been left there alone and didn’t know what else to do. Bruce slowly lowered back into the chair when Tony came back in, sat at the table, and started digging through the box. After a moment, he pulled out a plain, light yellow post it with an elongated, loping script and held it up for Bruce to read. Made too many, didn’t want them to go to waste -B.B.

Immediately, Bruce’s features softened from an almost hurt anxiety, to relaxed relief, then a warm, small smile. Tony pulled out another note, this time on the back of a departmental newsletter. Very impressive lightshow, Stark. Give me some warning next time, I sure love losing my graded exams and I’m going to make sure the students know you’re the reason they have to retake them. B.B.

Bruce started laughing, and then Tony started laughing, and then they were both laughing, and Tony felt positively drunk. This couldn’t possibly reality.

“So you saved my notes, and I saved yours. How should we interpret this going forward?” Tony said, wiping an eye because he was laughing so hard, then resting his chin in his hand and looking at Bruce with open appreciation.

“Um. I think maybe- maybe we-“ he started, looking at Tony with wide eyes that seemed to carry equal parts trepidation and daring. And then, because that’s how life just unfolded for Tony, both of their phones began beeping insistently, the proximity alarm indicating that Blonsky was within a two mile range of them. Post it notes forgotten, they both stood abruptly, and without saying a word, Bruce resumed his observation post in the dining room, and Tony boldly strode into the front yard and stood with his hands on his hips and a look of righteous fury on his face.

Sure enough, less than a minute later, Tony made incredibly uncomfortable eye contact with Emil Blonsky, who seemed shocked that Tony was there watching for him, and knew he was coming. The moment he was spotted, Blonsky stomped on the gas so hard that the tires squealed, and he was gone. Bruce joined him a few moments later, and they stood in the dark yard looking down the street in the direction the Lincoln had gone.

“Guess we didn’t have to wait until morning for the fireworks,” Bruce said somberly, all their previous banter and rather butterfly-inducing confessions of sentimentality evaporating in the face of reality once again. They both looked down at their phones as alerts began going off, one after another. Attempts to access multiple accounts that Tony had locked Ross and Blonsky out of. Sudden shift in a few particular stocks. Two politicians that Tony had set to be monitored completely deleted their Twitter accounts. Things were happening.

“Guess not,” Tony muttered, the two of them going back inside.

And from there, it was chaos. Rhodey must have heard something through the grapevine, because he called Tony late in the evening.

“Tones, things are happening in DC, have you been getting alerts on your project?” Rhodey asked in a hushed voice, referring to them outing Ross in oblique terms just in case of an eavesdropper.

“Yeah, the ball is rolling,” Tony said, muting the steady incoming alerts from JARVIS, watching as Bruce paced and flipped between multiple news channels, waiting for a bombshell to drop.

“I can’t give a whole lot of detail, there’s some confusion about what’s classified and what will be released to the public. Let’s just say Washington is in damage control mode right now,” Rhodey said, and Tony snorted in satisfaction.

“Well keep me posted, there’s nothing on the news yet,” he said, shaking his head at Bruce to indicate Rhodey didn’t have anything concrete to report yet. Tony and Rhodey chatted a bit longer, with promises from Rhodey to come visit for a few days, that he was long overdue. When they hung up, Tony turned back to his laptop, checking in on his curated feed of media headlines and social media posts.

“Tony, I’m really worried this was a mistake,” Bruce said, turning abruptly to Tony and picking at his cuticles nervously. “What if he targets you next?” Tony got up and took both of Bruce’s hands, rubbing his thumbs over Bruce’s knuckles.

“Bruce, it’s fine. We’re gonna be fine. Ross can’t touch me, I promise. And after this, he’s not gonna touch you ever again, either. Listen. Let’s have some more of that joint and go to bed, yeah? Your poor nails are going to be all bitten off,” Tony said, smiling encouragingly at Bruce, who huffed at the comment about his nails.

“Fine. But-“

“No buts. Joint, bed. Doctor’s orders,” Tony said sternly. Bruce scowled without heat, notably having not released Tony’s hands.

“You might have seven doctorates, but you’re not that kind of doctor,” he said, and Tony shrugged, pulling Bruce back into the kitchen to grab some chips and pop.

“Neither are you,” he teased, as Bruce heaved a dramatic sigh and followed Tony, with Ollie on his heels, her fluffy tail proudly in the air like a flagpole.

Chapter 8 Chapter Text

Tony didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, he was warm, comfortable, relaxed, and clearly not in his own bed. He cracked an eye open, and there were pink clouds outside the living room windows, indicating that it was sunrise. He was still dressed in jeans and a tshirt and lying back on the couch, but the part that surprised him was curled up next to him pressed from shoulder to toe with his head on Tony’s shoulder, was a warm, soft, sleeping Bruce.

Tony moved his head a bit to see Bruce’s face, and his glasses were askew in his mop of brown curls, his cheek mushed against Tony’s shoulder, and a little wet spot of drool on Tony’s tshirt. Tony smiled, finding it to be unbearably adorable. On their laps, Ollie was stretched out long across them both, her belly presented for rubs.

“Prrp?” she said, and Tony shushed her, rubbing her ears and contemplating his current predicament. They’d been pleasantly high and stuffed full of snacks, barely keeping their eyes open while watching the news, and must have fallen asleep. The TV was off; Tony didn’t remember doing that part, and certainly didn’t remember cuddling on Bruce while they slept, but he also didn’t object.

What had happened? Mere days ago they were adversaries… weren’t they? He supposed not, based on the revelation they’d both sentimentally shared that they’d each kept each other’s notes. Now Tony was putting himself at a very real risk of danger to help Bruce. And as he did so, realized more and more acutely that Bruce was… well…

Charmingly endearing. Adorably awkward. Temptingly hot. Scathingly funny. Mind-blowingly smart. He was sentimental, quiet, intense, and kind in a way that Tony never expected. And Tony wanted more. He wanted to learn everything about Bruce. What made him tick. How Tony could make him-

Tony put a stop to that train of thought, but then hesitantly let himself indulge. He thought about the red satin thong, the way Bruce winked at him in the dining room when Tony was halfway to kissing him, the way Bruce made those cookies for him and how sweet he was with Ollie. He imagined Bruce in the guestroom shower, pulling Tony’s underwear over his hips, looking at himself in the mirror and-

“Tony…?” Bruce mumbled, shifting a bit, and Tony about jumped out of his skin.

“Bruce,” he mumbled sleepily, and Bruce was sitting up, rubbing his eyes and twisting out of Ollie’s reach when she tried to head-butt him. Then he stopped, looking at Tony, and seemed to realize what they’d been doing. Bruce’s cheeks went pink, and Tony mentally noted it as yet another thing about Bruce that was just perfect. Tony huffed a little laugh to hide the fact that his own cheeks were probably betraying him as well.

“Guess we got a little cozy last night,” he said, sitting up and stretching, letting Ollie head-butt him since she seemed intent on head-butting someone. Bruce glanced away, picking at his nails.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy,” he said, clearly embarrassed. Tony waved a hand.

“Oh, please. I did the same. We’re just two bros getting high and falling asleep on each other after an exhausting day of espionage. Completely normal Sunday,” he said flippantly, pleased to get a laugh out of Bruce.

“You have a comment for everything, don’t you?”

“Usually,” Tony said, shrugging. “Hand me the remote, I want to see the news.” Really, he wanted a way to distract himself from the fact that Bruce hadn’t shifted away from him, and seemed perfectly content now to be physically close to Tony, and Tony was perfectly content to do the same.

Tony turned on the TV, and the very first image they were delighted to see was a news anchor commenting on a video on loop of Ross being taken from his DC residence in cuffs.

“What the f*ck, already??” Tony yelped, standing and ignoring how Ollie glared at him for being unceremoniously dumped from his lap. Bruce stood too, and both of them frantically checked their phones, unsilencing them only to be serenaded by an avalanche of alerts as Tony flipped news channels and saw the same video on all of them with various commentary about an anonymous whistleblower revealing Ross’s ties to several terrorist organizations, drug cartels, human trafficking, treason, theft, money laundering, blackmail, and extortion. Already there were reports of people corroborating the accusations. Tony could not have asked for it to have played out any better than this.

He turned to Bruce, who was staring at the TV with a slack jaw and wide eyes, and Tony grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him lightly out of pure adrenaline.

“We did it!” Tony shouted, and Bruce split into a huge smile, brighter than the sun and wider than the oceans.

“I can’t believe it!” he shouted back, grabbing Tony’s shoulders too. “Tony, I- we-“ he trailed off, looking at Tony with palpable gratitude, relief, and jubilation. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, oh my god,” Bruce said, then in a rush, held Tony’s face in his hands and kissed him out of joy and excitement.

Tony… well, Tony froze, his mind going completely blank, as he fully melted into the first kiss he’d had in a long while, from someone who he just realized he'd been pining after for an equally long while.

Tony felt like time stopped. Bruce’s lips were chapped, but gentle, and his scruff scratched Tony’s chin pleasantly, and they stood so close that their bodies were flush.

They were kissing.

Tony never wanted it to end, and without even realizing it, his lips parted to deepen the kiss, which was apparently the wrong thing to do, since Bruce drew back so fast it was like he’d been shocked. He might actually have been, given the look of horror on his face.

“Oh my god,” Bruce breathed, and Tony frowned.

“I know I haven’t kissed anyone in a while, but I can’t be that bad,” he said, hands on his hips. That seemed to confuse Bruce, who shook his head, already picking at his nails again.

“No, I- that was inappropriate of me, I shouldn’t have- in your own home- I didn’t-“ Bruce stammered, looking everywhere but at Tony. Tony had to suppress a smile.

“So I wasn’t the worst kiss you’ve ever had? How do I compare to Betty?” he asked, and that got Bruce to look at him incredulously for a moment, before heaving an amused, exasperated sigh at the laughter crinkling the corners of Tony’s eyes.

“I’m not answering that, Tony,” Bruce said, flopping on the couch, and Tony flopped too, but did allow some space between them.

“Better then. I’ll take it,” he said, and then nudged Bruce’s foot with his own. “You know, I wouldn’t mind a replay sometime,” he said slyly, and Bruce blushed furiously, looking at his lap.

“How do you flirt so easily all the time? I’m over here just…” he said, and Tony raised his brows encouragingly.

“Just blue-balling me?”

“No! Tony!” Bruce said, blushing again. “I didn’t- It was just celebratory! I didn’t intend anything.”

“Okay, fine. All I’m saying is if you wanted to kiss me again-“

“Tony!”

“-consider it an open invitation. I’m going to go feed your cat while you crawl out of your hole of shame,” Tony finished flippantly, getting up and heading to the kitchen to get cat food, if only to hide that he was definitely shaky and flushed too, because wow. Bruce kissed him.

He put a scoop of dry food in the bowl that clearly still had food in it, that Ollie seemed to think was empty, and then put down a plate of canned food, as easily as though Ollie was their cat, not Bruce’s. He replayed the kiss over and over, the way Bruce’s big hands felt holding his face so delicately, and imagined Bruce’s body against his, warm and soft as they tasted each other, the feel of Bruce slipping his hand down to-

Tony blinked, realizing he’d been standing there for some time staring blankly into space while Ollie ate her food with loud cat noises, and thought that it was certainly interesting that all their work to expose Ross was nowhere in his mind, because all he could think about was Bruce.

Tony came back out to the living room, where Bruce was standing again, watching the TV with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, an expression of anxiety if Tony ever saw one. Tony moved wordlessly up beside him, tugged gently at one of Bruce’s hands, and just laced their fingers together and held his hand silently while they watched the news.

Bruce glanced at him sidelong, but Tony didn’t say anything. He just squeezed Bruce’s hand in support, and a few moments later, smiled when Bruce squeezed his hand back. Something unspoken, but deeply important, passed between them, then. There might not be a name for what they were, but they were more than colleagues, more than friends. There was trust there that neither of them had a lot of experience with. There was cautious hope, tentative closeness, and a palpable reprieve from the mutual loneliness that plagued them both.

Tony wasn’t a patient man, but he would wait an eternity to see what became of this.

Chapter 9 Chapter Text

The best part of this was that despite all the work, all the fallout, all the people involved, for Tony and Bruce, it was rather anticlimactic. They stayed at Tony’s place as the saga unfolded, Tony kept close watch on his various security programs, they watched the news, made sure nothing could get back to them, and were delighted when Blonsky was also arrested mere hours after Ross.

They didn’t kiss again, but there was a closeness between them now that was quiet, intense, and anticipatory. It was a closeness that held its breath and was waiting; waiting for one of them to act, waiting for one of them to close the distance, to do what they both constantly thought about now, though neither of them were quite ready to admit it. Tony still ceaselessly flirted though, if only as a defense mechanism.

“And here I’d hoped that getting invited back to a guy’s place would involve more being horizontal, and less hauling sh*t around,” Tony grumbled affectionately, as Bruce rolled his eyes. They were hauling in a fourth crate of tools and supplies from the back of Tony’s Land Rover to Bruce’s basem*nt, where Tony was painstakingly rewiring the whole house with upgraded technology and security systems. He wanted to keep Bruce safe, and knew the best way to do that was to do it himself.

He adjusted Bruce’s arm again, who held the flashlight so Tony could see the breaker box after he cut power to it, and Bruce purposefully kept pointing it wrong, smirking when Tony finally caught on that Bruce was messing with him.

“Well, we’re not done yet,” Bruce said cryptically, and Tony arched a brow.

“I haven’t given you my bill yet either,” he teased, and Bruce snorted.

“Let me guess; a pound of flesh?” he said, and Tony tugged a spool of wire through an intake in the breaker box.

“Oh, I’d say about 5 feet, nine inches, 170 pounds of flesh, if you know what I mean,” he said lightly, and Bruce choked, making Tony grin at the breaker box.

They flirted and bantered like that while Tony built in the security systems, showed Bruce how to use them, programmed his devices, and did a test run. When he was done, Tony pulled off his gloves and tucked them in his back pocket, and put his hands on his hips.

“Fort Knox 2.0 is up and running. No one is going to bother you again, Bruce,” Tony said with a sense of satisfaction and finality, and Bruce just looked at his phone that showed live feeds in 4k of an army of security cameras on his property.

“This is incredible, Tony,” he breathed, then looked up at Tony with wide eyes. “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like my home was truly a safe haven until now.” He stepped closer, and Tony dropped his hands, quieted by the intensity of Bruce’s expression.

“I just want you to be safe, Bruce,” Tony murmured, and Bruce stepped closer again, the air practically crackling with electricity between them.

Bruce simply pocketed his phone, and like the morning of the press release, he reached out to hold Tony’s face, only this time his movements were slow and thoughtful. His broad palms were dry and warm on Tony’s cheeks, and Tony reached up, covering Bruce’s hands with his own.

“Thank you, Tony,” Bruce said, and then he closed the distance between them, and pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s lips. And this time when Tony deepened it, Bruce accepted, his lips parting willingly. Tony made a soft noise, tasting Bruce hesitantly, and he moved his hands to Bruce’s waist, pulling him close.

“You’re welcome, Bruce,” he whispered against Bruce’s lips, and he felt Bruce crowding against him, kissing him with growing hunger. Tony didn’t realize he’d moved from his spot until his back hit the wall, pressed there by Bruce, pinned by his body that seemed to fit against Tony’s perfectly. Tony gasped, his hands scrabbling at the hem of Bruce’s t-shirt, as Bruce planted his hands on the wall on either side of Tony’s head, caging him there as he took, took, took, and Tony willingly, pliantly, poured everything in himself out for Bruce.

When they parted, both of them gasping for air, they locked eyes, drinking each other in. Tony’s hands were under Bruce’s shirt, cradled in the dip of his lower back, and Bruce’s knee pressed between Tony’s thighs, lovingly seducing them apart. Tony very much liked that Bruce didn’t seem afraid to take what he wanted. Tony licked his lower lip, the motion catching Bruce’s eyes.

“Why don’t I want to go back to work tomorrow?” Tony breathed, realizing that the reality of going back to their routine was careening towards them, and it was impossible to imagine how different it would be now. Sharing a classroom wall, sharing an office wall, suddenly felt like a teasing torture.

“I don’t, either,” Bruce whispered. “I want… I want-“

“You.” Tony breathed out the word, and Bruce huffed a soft laugh, dropping his face into the crook of Tony’s neck. Tony tipped his head back, giving him better access, and made a soft sound of appreciation.

“Thank you, Tony,” Bruce said, sighing the words in humid kisses along Tony’s jaw. “Thank you for giving me my life back. Thank you for giving me safety. Thank you for being so insufferable.”

“Hey!” Tony said, pulling his head back and scowling at Bruce, only to swat his arm lightly at Bruce’s mischievous smile. Tony indignantly slipped out from between Bruce and the wall, and Bruce leaned on the wall watching him with amusem*nt while Tony made a show of putting tools back in the bag.

“Now you know there’s rules about intra-departmental fraternizing, so if you think we’re gonna f*ck in our offices every afternoon, you better rethink getting a key card lock, because I’m not trying to get reprimanded-“ Tony rambled, his cheeks pink and his stomach pleasantly fluttery.

“Tony-“

“-and I guarantee you M.J. and Ned have a bet about us sleeping together, so don’t encourage their bullsh*t-“

“Tony.”

“Yes, dear?” Tony said, straightening and turning to look at Bruce with affectionate amusem*nt. Bruce just shook his head at the ground, laughing, then pushed off the wall and came to Tony’s side.

“Will you-“

“-go to dinner with me?” Tony blurted out, both of them asking the same question at the same time. They laughed, and Tony could have had literal hearts and stars in his eyes, for all he swelled up with affection for Bruce in that moment. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, and Tony ducked his head. Bruce spoke up first.

“Friday?”

Tony nodded.

“Eight o-clock at The Oaken Barrel?”

Bruce nodded this time, and they both smiled.

“Is this a date?” Bruce asked, and Tony shrugged, but couldn’t stop smiling.

“All signs point to yes, Big Guy,” he said, and Bruce rolled his eyes. This time, Tony leaned in, brushing his thumb across Bruce’s cheekbone, and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “I’m not glad this happened to you, but I’m glad it brought us together,” he said when they parted.

“Me too,” Bruce said softly, and helped Tony finish packing tools.

That night, Bruce sent Tony a text. It was a pic of Tony’s red thong hanging from Bruce’s bedroom doorknob.

Hope you don’t mind, I took a little souvenir.

“Jesus f*cking Christ,” Tony muttered, staring at the pic, then flopping back on his pillows in stunned delight, before tapping out a reply.

Keep it. Wear it Friday, and I’ll dress to match ;)

Chapter 10 Chapter Text

That week was torture. Tony felt magnetized to Bruce, keenly aware of his every move, the muffled sounds of him teaching through the wall, the sound of his key jangling in his office door, the scent of his shampoo when Tony politely refrained from grabbing his ass while they stood in line to use the copier. They were restrained, attempting not to ignite a rumor mill among either the students or the faculty, but that all went up in smoke on Thursday.

“Tony, I thought we were going to blow Dr. Banner’s breaker today?” M.J. asked, arching a challenging brow. Tony was setting up for a different experiment, one in which they would be building capacitors out of legos. He purposefully had changed the plan because he didn’t want to do that to Bruce.

“Uh, change of plan,” Tony said. “Besides, all you children should actually learn how to control the energy we’re creating, if you actually want to be employable engineers someday.” That got a scattering of laughs, but also a couple groans.

“Dammit, I told one of my friends in his class that we were gonna get him out of the quiz today,” someone muttered, and Tony shrugged.

“Tell your friend he should have studied,” he said flippantly, then gestured for everyone to gather around his desk to look at his prototype.

Two hours later, he was straddling Bruce’s lap on the couch in Tony’s office, while Bruce pushed Tony’s shirt over his head and they kissed frantically, hands everywhere, humid lips following in their wake.

“Shh,” Bruce hushed when Tony moaned, and Tony buried his face in Bruce’s shoulder, grinding their hips together.

“Can’t help it, you feel so good-“ he panted, hissing when Bruce eagerly licked a nipple. “f*ck…”

“Tony, I want-“

Knock knock

The two of them froze at the sound of a knock on Tony’s office door, and they bolted apart faster than lightning, scrambling for clothes and straightening pillows and scattered books. Soon Tony was behind his desk, shirt on backwards, lips reddened, and Bruce was on his couch, leg crossed away from the door, an open book on his lap.

“Come in,” Tony called, recognizing that it had taken a suspiciously long time for him to say that.

“Hi Tony! M.J. and Ned and I just had a question about- oh, hi Dr. Banner,” Peter said in surprise, looking between Tony and Bruce far too perceptively. Ned and M.J. were whispering behind him, naturally.

“Question about?” Tony said, and Peter cleared his throat.

“Uh, Dr. Banner, your book is upside down,” he said, and Bruce quickly righted the book.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Parker,” Bruce said, not making eye contact.

“Your question?” Tony said again, and Ned tugged Peter’s backpack.

“Sorry Tony, Dr. Banner, we got it figured out!” Ned said, pulling a protesting Peter from the room and shutting the door. Tony suspected Peter really did have a question about homework, but…

“Welp, the cat is out of the bag,” Tony groaned, laying his head on his arms on his desk with a sigh. Bruce’s sigh echoed his.

“With those three? The whole department will know before the hour is up,” he said, then grinned at Tony. “Your shirt’s on backwards.”

Tony scowled and straightened his tshirt.

“Okay, Dr. Upside Down Book.”

Bruce snorted, then came to Tony’s desk and gave him a soft, lingering kiss.

“Can’t wait for dinner tomorrow, Tony,” he murmured, then backed away slowly, looking at Tony with intense want in his hazel eyes, and closed the office door behind him.

Friday evening, Tony changed his outfit at least a half-dozen times, calling Pepper twice in the decision-making process of choosing a shirt.

“Tony, for god’s sake, just wear the blue shirt and grey jacket, you know you look nice in it,” Pepper said with fond exasperation, and Tony groaned.

“But it’s so boring,” he said, holding up a red button down and a black turtleneck to the camera on his phone, where Pepper’s face looked back at him with a barely-suppressed smirk.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever known you to fret about what to wear before. Is Bruce that important to you?” she asked, and Tony dropped the shirts on the bed, raking his hands through his hair.

“Yeah,” he said softly, notably not deflecting with a sarcastic quip. “I really like him, Pep. I think I’ve liked him for way longer than I realize. I just want to… to do right by him.” He sat on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand, and Pepper smiled at him.

“Tony, the fact that you care that much is all that matters. If he feels the same way, he won’t care what you wear,” she said gently. Tony smiled back, grateful to his friend.

“Thanks, Pep,” he said, and they talked for a few more minutes before Tony settled on the blue shirt and grey jacket.

He picked Bruce up at 7:30 in Lola, thinking there was no sense in letting a perfectly good Corvette go to waste, and had only raised his hand to knock on Bruce’s door when it opened, and Bruce smiled almost shyly at him. He was wearing a yellow button-down and tan slacks, and looked so beautiful that Tony couldn’t think of what to say for a moment.

“You look really nice,” Tony said, and Bruce ducked his head, a wayward curl falling over his forehead.

“You too,” he said, and then laughed, breaking the tension and making Tony laugh, too. He grabbed Tony’s jacket lapels and pulled him close, kissing him thoroughly, making Tony gasp in surprise, then moan softly.

“I heard that getting the kiss out of the way first eases tension,” Bruce finally said, releasing Tony. Tony rolled his eyes.

“That’s for a first kiss, Brucie-Bear,” he said, and Bruce shrugged.

“Broke the tension, didn’t it?” he said with a little smirk, and Tony sighed.

“I guess,” he said, throwing his arms up and turning around dramatically. “See if I hold the door open for you after this.” He grumbled theatrically, and Bruce laughed, following him out and locking the door behind him, before making a soft “oooh” noise when he saw Lola.

“Are we going to fly to the restaurant?” he asked, and Tony winked at him, holding the passenger door open, despite his threats to the contrary.

“It’s a secret,” he said, still not admitting whether or not the car could actually fly. Bruce snorted as he sat in the car, then his eyes went soft when he saw a small bouquet of flowers; yellow and red sunflowers and white daisies, tied with a red velvet ribbon.

“Are these for me?” he asked with a small smile as Tony slid into the driver’s seat, and Tony ducked his head, trying in vain to hide the touch of pink in his cheeks that Bruce so effortlessly seemed to elicit from him.

“Nah, they’re for Ollie,” he said, earning him a grin and a light swat on the arm.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” Bruce said, and Tony looked up, finding himself lost in a pair of wide hazel eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Tony said just as softly, lacing his fingers with Bruce’s free hand. He was inexplicably fluttery inside, and couldn’t help but smile as Bruce sniffed the flowers with appreciation, coming out of the bouquet with a dusting of yellow pollen on the tip of his nose. It was unbearably endearing. Tony reached out and carefully brushed the pollen off Bruce’s nose, and for a long moment, they just looked at each other like two fools falling in love.

Tony was the one to break the magical spell of their quiet moment, but only because his phone dinged at him, a reminder of the reservation he’d made, just in case he got absorbed in a project and forgot. He laughed quietly at himself.

“Look at us, making eyes at each other like teenagers. We’re going to be late,” he said, starting the car, and Bruce laughed too, then looked at Tony with startling intensity.

“I mean… we could always skip dinner,” Bruce suggested lightly, making Tony stop what he was doing and seriously contemplate what Bruce was implying.

“We could,” he murmured, licking his lower lip as he looked at Bruce with equal intensity.

“Of course looking forward to dessert is also half the fun of it,” Bruce added with a little half-grin, teasing Tony with inexplicable finesse.

“Listen, where did you learn all this smooth talking?” Tony finally demanded. “Can’t say two words to me without stumbling over yourself for years, and now you’re making me blush like a goddamned teenager. Unfair.”

That got a laugh out of Bruce.

“Maybe I decided I’d had enough f*cking around and it was time to go after what I wanted once and for all,” Bruce said mildly, and Tony smirked.

“Lucky me,” Tony said, winking, and this time it was Bruce’s cheeks that went pink.

“Here I was going to say the same thing,” Bruce said, looking down at the flowers again. Tony felt all fluttery inside again, but finally got it together enough to get on the road to the restaurant. They talked the whole drive, about everything. The administration at school, who brought the best food to the faculty potlucks, their mutual fondness for cats, Bruce’s 1920’s bungalow that he had been lovingly restoring for years, which ended with Bruce going on a long diatribe about vintage versus reproduction subway tiles.

It was so delightfully mundane, and Tony hung on every word.

By the time they were seated at the restaurant, Tony was talking about the intricacies of vintage Corvettes, and Dr. Coulson’s midlife crisis cars, getting laughs out of Bruce that Tony drank in, memorizing their musical lilt and the way Bruce’s eyes crinkled and sparkled when he smiled.

The subject eventually turned to Tony’s arc reactor, the light of it barely visible through his shirt.

“If you change the Palladium cores every month, where do you get your supply?” Bruce asked between bites.

“I have a supplier, and order it in large quantities, then fabricate the cores myself in the forge. I can go a little longer between changing cores, but I risk developing Palladium poisoning if I stretch much past 6 weeks,” Tony said, and paused when Bruce stopped, fork halfway to his mouth.

“Palladium poisoning?” he said, lowering his fork, his expression serious. “Wait, that thing- is it actually safe?” His eyes dropped to the faint circle of light, and Tony waved a dismissive hand, even though it definitely had inherent dangers.

“I mean… well, it is a reactor. It’s just very small. And all reactors have waste byproducts. This one just happens to be very small, so the waste output is minimal. If I wear a core too long, the corrosion increases the waste output, which goes into my bone marrow and blood stream in quantities that my kidneys and liver can’t….” Tony stopped talking, realizing that Bruce was pale and looked sincerely alarmed.

“Hey, you know, don’t worry about it, it’s fine, trust me. Perfectly safe, I’ve been wearing it for more than a decade and have never had problems,” Tony said with a smile that was a little forced. That wasn’t entirely true, but also talking about his intermittent brushes with death wasn’t exactly good table conversation. Bruce didn’t look reassured.

“Have you ever tried to find a suitable replacement that’s less dangerous?” Bruce asked, and Tony shrugged.

“I mean, I’ve tried every element on the periodic table, even tried synthesizing a few, but nothing is as clean as this. I just have to be conscientious, not lose track of time. Besides, I’ll start to feel it if I’ve had it in too long or depleted the core. It’s… let’s just say not pleasant,” Tony said, a little grimly. Indeed, the early stages of Palladium poisoning were horrifically painful, enough so that he never let it progress. He couldn’t imagine how bad advanced poisoning would be. He shuddered, and knew that Bruce saw it.

“God, Tony, I had no idea. You didn’t mention any of this in your papers,” Bruce said, and Tony frowned.

“I don’t exactly like broadcasting my fatal flaw to the world,” Tony said, “Problem is, I can’t survive without it. Not just the pacemaker, the whole arc reactor. The accident really f*cked me up, and this is the solution. It’s part of me now.” Tony’s jaw jutted defiantly, almost daring Bruce to take pity on him. But Bruce surprised him again, instead reaching for his hand with a tentative smile.

“You know, I’m not sure how I managed to push you away all these years, but you absolutely amaze me, and I wish I’d known that sooner,” Bruce said softly, and Tony smiled too.

“You’re not exactly the prickly ball of rage I thought you were, either,” Tony said, and this time Bruce chuckled.

“I’m going to have to find someone else to dump the rage monster on now,” Bruce said.

“I vote Dean Fury. He could stand to have his ivory tower rattled now and then,” Tony said, getting another one of those wonderful laughs out of Bruce. They continued talking, and Tony found himself surprisingly comfortable talking about his arc reactor, the accident, and even ordinary, everyday things like how annoying it was when the annual marathon closed down the whole city and no one could get anywhere. Likewise, Bruce opened up too, talking about his anxieties and temper with surprising candidness, despite confessing that he hated how weak they made him feel.

“I mean, I’m in therapy, but sometimes it’s just like… I don’t know. Like I can’t breathe because something is squeezing the air out of me, and sometimes I don’t even know why I’m so anxious. And that’s when I get so angry, and…” Bruce said, then sighed, fiddling with the corner of the napkin in his lap. “I guess if we’re talking fatal flaws,” he finished with a sardonic smile. Tony just listened, something he wasn’t accustomed to doing for many other people.

“I’m not scared of you, you know,” Tony said. “You’re talking like you’re trying to warn me away. But you’re not a monster.”

Bruce looked up at Tony then, his eyes big and liquid as though Tony was the first to really see him.

“Thank you,” Bruce said quietly, then smiled, something small and warm this time.

“We’ve been here for three hours. I think our server is losing their mind,” Tony said, and offered his hand to Bruce. “Let’s go for a drive.” Bruce nodded, Tony took the check and tipped very well, and they went on an evening drive with the top down. Tony loved how Bruce’s curls turned into a mop of fuzz from the wind, standing out around his head like a halo, and when they got back to Bruce’s place, Tony was doubled over with laughter. Bruce crossed his arms, looking at himself in the rearview mirror.

“You know, I was going to invite you in, but now I’m not so sure,” he said, and Tony wiped his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

“You’d deny me the chance to see Ollie? The cruelty,” he sighed dramatically, and Bruce huffed and got out of the car, taking his flowers and pausing on Tony’s side of the car.

“Well, come on then,” he said with a smirk, and Tony was out of the car before Bruce had finished his sentence. Bruce unlocked his door and Tony followed him to the kitchen to put the flowers in fresh water, and set them in the kitchen window. There was a long moment of quiet between them, and then Tony caught Bruce’s eye, and without words they crashed into each other in a frantic, hungry kiss.

“Oh god,” Bruce breathed when Tony slid his hands around Bruce’s waist and down to cup his ass, and then Bruce crowded Tony against the kitchen wall, pressing his leg between Tony’s thighs so that Tony had to spread his legs.

“f*ck…” Tony gasped, his head thumping back against the wall, and Bruce’s lips followed his. “If I don’t have your hands on me soon…”

Bruce chuckled, a dark sound that had Tony thrilling to his core, and then his warmth was gone and Tony positively whimpered. But it turned quickly into a groan when he realized it was because Bruce had dropped to his knees.

“I can do better than my hands,” Bruce growled, unbuttoning Tony’s pants and pulling out his hardening co*ck. Bruce’s eyes were wide and appreciative, and Tony felt pleasure and anticipation surge through him with the way Bruce licked his lower lip like he was admiring a feast laid out before him.

“Please,” Tony breathed, and Bruce looked up at him with the most hedonistic look in his hazel eyes, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the head of Tony’s co*ck. Tony could die right then. His head thumped back against the wall again, and Bruce’s tongue slid over Tony’s slit and around the ridge of his head, and then Bruce’s lips blessedly parted and he pulled Tony’s length into the warmth of his mouth.

Tony’s moan filled the room, and Bruce wasted no time, his tongue swirling around the length of Tony’s co*ck, swallowing him down, sucking lightly, one hand planted on Tony’s thigh, and the other one playing with Tony’s balls. It was the best goddamn blowj*b Tony was sure he’d ever gotten. He buried his fingers lightly in Bruce’s hair, not pulling or forcing, but just feeling the way he moved. Bruce made a soft noise, and when Tony looked down, he’d moved his hand from Tony’s thigh and was jerking himself, clearly enjoying giving Tony pleasure.

“Don’t, I want to be the one to make you come,” Tony breathed, and Bruce looked up at him with his beautiful eyes and his beautiful mouth stretched around Tony’s co*ck, and he obeyed, returning his hand to Tony’s thigh and digging into the fabric of his pants, like it was everything he could do to resist not touching himself with Tony’s co*ck in his mouth.

That right there was enough to do it for Tony, who gasped another breath.

“f*ck, I’m going to come,” he warned, trying to pull back, but Bruce followed his movement and pressed a hand to Tony’s hip, holding him in place and clearly wanting Tony to come in his mouth. Tony struggled not to close his eyes, because he wanted to watch Bruce’s face. He groaned when he finally did come, as waves of euphoria washed over him and made his entire body tingle and tremble with the power of his org*sm.

Tony’s knees shook, and Bruce drank him in, eyes closed and tongue working every drop from Tony beautifully. When Bruce finally pulled off, his cheeks and lips were flushed, and he looked up at Tony wordlessly begging for more. Tony watched him for a few moments as a he caught his breath, then hauled him up for a kiss, tasting himself on Bruce’s tongue.

Tony turned Bruce and slammed him against the wall, kissing him hungrily.

“My turn,” Tony growled, taking great pleasure in the needy whimper that escaped Bruce’s lips. Tony dropped to his knees, taking Bruce out of his tan slacks easily, and salivating at the sight of his co*ck. He wasn’t as thick as Tony, but he was longer, and Tony very much was eager to choke on that co*ck. He looked up at Bruce, and with a mischievous smirk, he draped his hands behind his back and licked his lower lip.

“f*ck my face,” Tony said in a low voice, and Bruce groaned, sliding his fingers through Tony’s hair.

“Tony…” Bruce said, barely controlled, which was exactly what Tony wanted.

“Do it,” Tony breathed, and then Bruce was in charge, one hand twisted in Tony’s hair, and the other on Tony’s cheek, holding his mouth open. Bruce tilted Tony’s head back, brushing his thumb across Tony’s lower lip, then into his mouth. Tony sucked it dutifully, eliciting a soft moan from Bruce, who removed his thumb and guided his co*ck to Tony’s lips, smearing precum on his lips like gloss, before pushing into his mouth.

Tony moaned, forcing himself down on Bruce’s co*ck until he gagged, and Bruce pulled back, but Tony went for more. Bruce took that as permission, and tightened his hold in Tony’s hair, and in one swift movement, buried his co*ck completely in Tony, pressing into his throat and holding himself there for a few seconds before f*cking his face in earnest, just as Tony hoped he would.

“God, you’re beautiful on your knees like this…” Bruce murmured, thrusting deeply into Tony’s throat, and Tony preened with pride. “The number of times I’ve touched myself imagining you like this, and then you ask me to f*ck your face… god…”

Tony had to work to keep his hands behind his back, because he wanted to stroke himself to hardness again at Bruce’s words. He’d thought of Tony like this before? Tony was so turned on by that it was unreal. He relaxed as much as he could so that Bruce could use him, and was overjoyed to discover that Bruce was a dirty talker.

“You like having my co*ck in your throat, don’t you? You like me shutting up your filthy mouth and using you. And you’re going to let me come in your pretty mouth too, aren’t you?” Bruce crooned, while f*cking Tony’s mouth mercilessly. It was perfect. Tony nodded the best he could, and Bruce smirked, a look that was simultaneously devious and affectionate. “I knew you’d be a good co*cksucker,” Bruce growled, and pulled Tony onto him and exploded his org*sm down Tony’s throat.

Tony swallowed and swallowed, helpless to do anything else, and he was already hard again without touching himself. Bruce was perfect. He was exactly what Tony wanted in a partner. And even through his dirty talk and the brutal pace of his hips, he never pulled Tony’s hair too tight, never went too deep or cut off Tony’s air, and clearly paid attention to Tony’s pleasure, too.

Bruce pulled Tony off, supporting him for a wobbly moment, and Tony looked up at Bruce with unfocused eyes and a bleary smile. He felt messy, in the best way possible. Bruce just smiled at him, sinking to his knees and kissing him with the most gentle touch, in complete contrast from only a few minutes prior.

“Thank you,” Bruce breathed into the kiss, and Tony melted, circling his arms around Bruce’s neck and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Nothing else existed but the two of them. When they pulled apart, Tony smiled.

“Goddamn that was fun,” he croaked in a hoarse voice, getting a laugh out of both of them. Bruce chuckled, smoothing Tony’s mussed hair.

“Wanna stay the night?” Bruce asked, grinning, and Tony just sighed happily.

“Yeah.”

Chapter 11 Chapter Text

“Ollie. Let me sleep,” Bruce mumbled, waking Tony from an intensely comfortable sleep. Tony huffed a sleepy laugh, cracking an eye open to see Ollie standing on his chest, headbutting Bruce, who was pressed close from shoulder to toe under the covers.

“She says father, I must eat,” Tony mumbled, and this time Bruce huffed.

“She already woke me up at five for food and I fed her then so we could sleep in,” Bruce said, pushing affectionately at his demanding cat. “And yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Tony repeated, his voice soft and fond as he looked at Bruce. They were still naked from fooling around the night before, and it was remarkable how well Tony slept, given he wasn’t at home and was sharing someone else’s bed. But Bruce made him feel safe and comfortable, and it was sincerely the best night’s sleep Tony had enjoyed in ages.

He shifted to his side, tangling their legs and displacing Ollie, who meowed indignantly and jumped to the floor. Tony snaked an arm around Bruce’s waist, so they were chest to chest and sharing a pillow.

“Good morning,” Tony murmured with a sleepy smile, and Bruce could have had literal hearts in his eyes, with the way he looked at Tony.

“Morning,” Bruce murmured, reaching up and brushing some of Tony’s hair from his forehead. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like the dead, but with less death,” Tony said, getting a laugh from Bruce.

“Me, too,” Bruce said, and leaned in for a soft kiss. Tony sighed into it, melting against Bruce in contentment.

“I should make you breakfast,” Bruce murmured against Tony’s lips, and Tony stroked his fingertip over the curve of Bruce’s hip.

“You should f*ck me, first,” Tony murmured, and Bruce drew back a bit, looking at Tony with intense want in his eyes. Tony just nodded once, permission and invitation all at once. Bruce just groaned, surging back in for another kiss.

“You really are going to be the death of me,” Bruce whispered, sliding a hand down Tony’s thigh. If Tony wasn’t already fully hard, he sure was now. Bruce’s touch electrified him, leaving a wake of tingling behind every stroke of his fingers. He spread his thighs, Giving Bruce access, and Bruce clearly treasured it. Tony fell into Bruce’s gaze as Bruce explored the planes of his body, teasing his nipples and trailing a fingertip over his belly and hipbone, stroking his co*ck lightly, parting his thighs a little more. He lit every one of Tony’s nerves on fire, so that even Tony’s smart quips were silenced into little more than soft noises and softer gasps of delight.

Bruce reached over to the nightstand, and soon was kissing Tony deeply while pressing lubed fingers into him, stretching him open in an unhurried pace, as though enjoying the journey more than the destination. Bruce took his time, learning which touches had Tony arching, whimpering, gasping Bruce’s name. Tony was trembling by the time he was ready, his lips on fire from Bruce’s kisses.

“Come here, I want you on top,” Bruce murmured, rolling to his back and propping up in the pillows. Tony moved to straddle Bruce’s lap, as the blankets fell away and left them exposed and beautiful for each other. Tony’s arc reactor reflected soft blue in Bruce’s eyes, and Tony steadied himself with hands on Bruce’s shoulders as he lowered himself slowly onto Bruce’s co*ck.

“Oh god…” Bruce breathed when the tip of his co*ck pushed into Tony’s warmth. Tony took it slow, savoring the stretch of each inch of Bruce’s co*ck, until he was settled fully on it, Bruce buried deep inside him.

“f*ck,” Tony gasped, closing his eyes as euphoria began to blur his senses. His hands were pressed lightly to Bruce’s chest, and Bruce’s hands skimmed up Tony’s thighs to rest on his hips, and Tony began to move.

He rolled his hips, a slow, languid movement that left him feeling full and right. Bruce’s hips matched Tony’s, and Tony opened his eyes to watch Bruce’s beautiful face. They didn’t need words for this. They somehow already knew each other’s bodies, and Tony didn’t have to chase his pleasure; he was subsumed by it.

Tony rode Bruce, arching his back and letting his head fall back, just existing in the intense ecstasy that Bruce gave him. It was a long, quiet, powerfully intimate exploration that had none of the frantic need from the night before, but was a heated voyage together that melted Tony to his core. Their fingers laced together, and Tony felt himself dancing on the edge of org*sm for a lifetime without even touching his own co*ck. And then it was no longer a dance, but a fall.

“Christ… I’m coming,” Tony gasped, surprise coloring his voice, and his body shuddered as a powerful org*sm burned through him, completely hands free. He cried out, lips parted, body flushed and on fire, as wave after wave of pleasure gripped him and he spurted onto Bruce’s stomach. Bruce moaned, Tony’s name in there somewhere, and then Tony felt Bruce pulsing, filling him deeply and trembling as he came.

Oh my god… oh my god…” Bruce breathed, his voice hitching and rough as he squeezed Tony’s hands through his climax. Tony collapsed forward, chest to chest with Bruce and uncaring of the mess between them, and he pressed his forehead to Bruce’s sweat-sheened collarbone. Bruce’s softening co*ck slipped out of Tony, and he felt Bruce’s cum on his thighs.

“f*ck…”

They were silent then, but for ragged gasps and soft whimpers as they shifted in bed to lay on their sides curled facing each other. Tony idly laced and unlaced his fingers with Bruce’s, and they were lost in each other’s warmth and presence for a long time until…

“Ollie, go away,” Tony muttered, and then he and Bruce dissolved into endorphin-fueled laughs that ended in kisses and the inevitable task of one of them (Bruce) getting up to feed Ollie again. When Bruce returned, Tony was in the shower, and Bruce poked his head in the curtain.

“Can I join?” he asked, and Tony moved to one end of the shower, a deeply content smile on his lips.

“I’d hoped you would,” Tony said, and when Bruce was wet, Tony set about washing Bruce’s hair. Their shower was long enough to run the hot water tank cold, and when they got out, Tony dressed in a pair of Bruce’s sweats and a tshirt, and they went to the kitchen for coffee. The domesticity of it all gripped Tony’s heart in a way he never expected it to, and he wondered to himself how he ever could have been annoyed at Bruce’s eccentricities that were so endearing now.

Like the way Bruce crossed his arms when he was thinking. Right now he had his arms crossed as he waited on the coffeemaker, and it was charming and adorable. Six months ago? Tony would have said Bruce was irritatingly annoyed and impatient. He went to Bruce and tugged at his wrists, unfolding those arms and wrapping them around himself.

“Careful now. I’m like a stray; I fall fast and hard for anyone who shows me the slightest bit of affection,” Tony said, nestling into Bruce’s arms. Bruce smiled at him.

“If only I’d known that sooner,” Bruce murmured, and Tony’s smile softened into something deeply affectionate as he thought again about the little ammeter cookies from Bruce.

“If only I was better at seeing signs of affection,” he said, and Bruce caught his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to them.

“Is that clear enough?” Bruce whispered, and Tony smiled.

“Yeah,” he whispered, and kissed him back.

Chapter 12 Chapter Text

“Blood toxicity at 28%. I strongly recommend changing Palladium cores immediately,” JARVIS said in his posh British tones with his new voice modulator, and Tony dropped the hem of his tshirt, where he’d been inspecting the angular network of black lines snaking just under his skin, radiating from the arc reactor in his chest.

“sh*t,” Tony muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He wasn’t going to be able to hide this from Bruce for much longer. “I need to hold out until 35%, J,” Tony sighed. He rubbed at his chest, where it ached from the toxins saturating into his marrow. Thirty-five percent was still reversible, but just barely.

Everything f*cking hurt.

Bruce’s worries about retribution from Ross rang in Tony’s ears. He’ll try to get to me through you, Bruce had said. But every rabbithole Tony went down ended up a dead end. Tony didn’t have proof that Ross was behind it, but the fact remained that shortly after Ross and his cronies went to prison, Tony’s access to Palladium had been abruptly cut off. And not that the price had gone up; access to it was just… gone.

Various legislative tidbits attached to larger bills severely limiting its legal usage, various embargos, and a suspicious “shortage” led Tony to think this was manufactured scarcity. He teetered between thinking he was being grandiose or justified, but it came down to the same thing; Ross knew that Tony had helped Bruce thwart Blonsky’s surveillance, and he knew that Bruce and Tony were involved, based on what Betty had told Bruce.

And Tony’s arc reactor was his highest academic achievement, and had hundreds of papers and research studies on it. It would be a very short game of connect the dots for someone like Ross to find out exactly how to make Tony’s ticker stop ticking, and for someone as powerful as Ross, even from prison, he could certainly have enough resources to make something like Palladium poisoning look like an unfortunate accident.

“This is delusional. I’m being paranoid,” Tony muttered, raking his hands through his hair. But it honestly didn’t matter if he was delusional; what mattered was getting his hands on more Palladium, and right now, all his suppliers were empty-handed. He couldn’t even find any on the dark web. He was so frustrated he actually yelled at JARVIS’s servers, then immediately apologized (JARVIS graciously accepted). Palladium wasn’t even that rare! Why was there just none to be found??

Tony had taken to combing through junk yards. There was enough Palladium in about 7 catalytic converters to make one core. Or 35 full size water heaters, if he could find that many. Some old camera components had a few grams, too. His workshop was an absolute mess of stripped parts and scrap metal, all to find as many minute shavings of Palladium as he could, that could be melted into a new core.

And all this was made even more complicated by the fact that he and Bruce had been dating for about six months, and were falling fast and hard for each other. They even had to have a meeting with Dean Fury and HR to go over the professional expectations of two faculty dating, and when the students found out, they teased the two of them mercilessly for the rest of the semester. For the first time in his teaching career, Tony had looked forward to the semester ending so he could get a break from the constant teasing, and spend some time focusing on this Palladium problem. But the new semester had already started, and Tony was no closer to a solution.

The frustration was going to kill him, if the Palladium poisoning didn’t kill him first.

Tony went upstairs to go to his room, moving slowly because of the aches in his joints and bones. Bruce had been out of town for two weeks for an academic conference, and would be back tonight. They planned to do dinner, but Tony needed to rest first. He was completely drained, a level of bone-deep exhaustion that he’d never felt in his life. JARVIS said it was the Palladium shutting down non-vital functions, and Tony didn’t like that bit of knowledge at all.

That night, Tony wore a sweater to cover the track marks from the Palladium, and when Bruce arrived, Tony grinned as usual and held his arms open, expecting a kiss. But Bruce stopped when he walked into Tony’s mansion, and held Tony by the shoulders at arm’s length.

“Tony. Jesus, are you okay? You look like sh*t,” Bruce said, his brow furrowed, and Tony frowned.

“Hey!” he said indignantly. “Not even a kiss first?” He leaned in, expecting his kiss, but Bruce pulled back, his expression serious.

“No, Tony, seriously. Your skin is grey,” he said with concern, and Tony turned to the mirror just inside the door where his grandma used to check that her hat was straight and lipstick tidy before leaving the house. And yeah, his skin was decidedly grey and sallow compared to Bruce’s warm, rosy complexion. Tony had deep circles under his eyes, and even his lips had a bluish hue. Goddamn, he did look like sh*t. How had he not even noticed? He supposed it was more obvious with Bruce right next to him.

“Yeah… just been pretty tired lately, and having to torment your substitute teacher is a lot of pressure, you know!” Tony said, deflecting. Bruce didn’t seem convinced.

“Are you sure you want to go out? We can stay here and rest,” Bruce suggested.

“No! No, I’m good, I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Tony said quickly. If they stayed in, they’d likely want to fool around, and Tony was simultaneously too tired for that, and also knew Bruce would immediately notice the Palladium track lines under the drugstore concealer that Tony had applied to his chest, and now collarbone. f*ck, this was getting complicated.

Bruce seemed to think for a moment, but agreed hesitantly to go out for burgers like they’d planned. Tony was on eggshells. He had to work to appear his usual energetic self, and several times he didn’t respond with his usual banter, and the silence was obvious and painful. His mind was just so sluggish.

By the end of the evening, Tony had snapped at Bruce for asking yet again if he was okay, and Tony felt terrible about it, but was so tired he couldn’t seem to care. He just wanted to go home. They rode together in Bruce’s car in silence, and Tony could tell everything was falling apart, and there was nothing he could seem to do or say to save the evening.

“Do you want me to come in?” Bruce asked, and Tony shook his head.

“No. I think I’m just going to go to bed,” Tony said, sighing, and looked at Bruce in the light of the streetlamp. “I’m sorry I’m… the way I am,” he said, and Bruce softened.

“Tony, what aren’t you telling me?” Bruce said in the gentlest voice. It stabbed Tony like a knife. He didn’t deserve Bruce.

“Nothing, Brucie-Bear. Goodnight, okay?” Tony said after a long moment. Bruce deserved better.

“Goodnight,” Bruce said, leaning in, and pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s lips. When they pulled apart, the guilt in Tony’s chest hurt more than the poisoning.

Less than a week later, and Tony was sitting right at 35% toxicity, and still didn’t have enough Palladium for a new core. He called in sick, sent a text to Bruce saying he wasn’t feeling great but would see him tomorrow, and got into his car with his tools and set out for yet another junk yard, a little further out of town. He procured two catalytic converters, and triumphantly brought them home, stripping them as fast as he could before he was so sore and tired he couldn’t move.

“f*cking finally,” he breathed, when the core finally came out of the forge in the bunker. It was more precious than platinum to Tony right now, and he looked at the glowing brick of molten metal with intense relief. It was going to have to cool before Tony could put it in, but he needed a shower anyway. He’d do that first, put in the new core, and then sleep for the next two days.

Tony headed upstairs, moving slowly because of the stiffness of his joints and the fuzz in his head. He had to stop in the kitchen to rest for a few moments, then headed to the stairs.

“Hey JARVIS, send Bruce a text. Let him know that… that I-“ Tony started, but trailed off, going still on the stairs.

“Sir?” JARVIS said, and Tony rubbed his eyes. The stairway seemed to stretch and twist before him. That wasn’t right. Was it?

“Tell him…” Tony mumbled, and then swayed. He reached for the banister, but only grabbed air. All he felt next was the sensation of weightlessness as he fell backwards down the steps, and then nothing.

Chapter 13 Chapter Text

“Tony! Tony, Jesus Christ, wake up,” Bruce said. Tony’s head felt like it was on fire.

“Tony, oh god, Tony, hey, open your eyes, come on…”

“Bruce…” Tony mumbled.

“Oh thank god…” Bruce blurted out, lightly patting Tony’s cheek to help him wake up. “JARVIS, call an ambulance-“

“No, no ‘mbulance,” Tony slurred, blinking blearily as he looked up at Bruce. Bruce looked down at him with wide, fearful eyes. “What happened?”

“You fell down the stairs, and JARVIS texted me that you needed my assistance immediately. I left in the middle of a class. God, are you okay? Did you trip? You- you don’t look very good, Tone.”

“Oh.”

Tony didn’t say anything else, still processing this information, and Bruce waited.

“Tony, I need you to talk to me,” he said, and Tony could hear the stress in his voice.

“Help me- help me get to the forge,” Tony said, trying to sit up.

“The forge? Tony, you need to go to the hospital, not-“

“I need the forge. I’ll show you there,” Tony said, and Bruce helped him sit up, then stand when they determined nothing was broken. Tony winced with every step, like there was broken glass in all his joints. He leaned heavily on Bruce, and they made it to the forge downstairs, where the palladium core had cooled and was sitting on the work table, shiny and clean and ready to power Tony’s heart.

Bruce helped Tony sit on a stool, and he took off his shirt, glancing at Bruce when he gasped, leaning in to look more closely at the crossword puzzle of lines radiating from the center of his chest.

“Palladium poisoning,” was all Tony said, and Bruce looked horrified.

“But- you said that- and I thought that- Tony, what the hell has been going on?” Bruce demanded. Tony said nothing right then, but untwisted the lock screw on his arc reactor, removed it, pulled out the spent core, which was corroded and smoking, and replaced it with the new core. Tony pushed the reactor back into the gaping hole in his chest, and screwed it down, locking it into place. He took a deep, shaky breath, and closed his eyes as what felt like ice water coursed through his veins, soothing his aches and erasing the track marks. It would be several days before he felt fine again, but the effect of a new core could be felt immediately.

He felt Bruce’s hand cover his, and Tony squeezed it back, looking at him forlornly.

“Remember me telling you I had a supplier for my Palladium?” he asked, and Bruce nodded. “Well my suppliers all dried up. I’ve been rationing my cores for about four months now.”

“What do you mean, rationing?”

“Been stretching them to 5 and 6 weeks. I’m not changing them out until I reach 35% blood toxicity. That’s… that’s when the damage becomes irreversible.”

Tony could hear a sharp intake of breath from Bruce.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Bruce asked, and Tony could hear it in his tone. How could you hide something like this from me?

Tony sighed.

“I thought I’d be able to get it figured out. I didn’t want to worry you,” Tony said, and then leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the cool surface of the worktable. “I was scared of what would happen if I couldn’t get more Palladium,” he said at his lap, and closed his eyes when he felt Bruce’s warm hand rub soothing circles on his back. There was silence for a moment.

“I want you to know how angry I am that you shut me out,” Bruce said quietly, but his touch and voice were still gentle. “But we can talk about that later. f*ck, Tony, I could have lost you! When were you going to say something?”

Tony sat up, turning to face Bruce.

“I don’t know. I don’t know! I’ve kind of been in panic mode,” he said, admittedly a little petulantly.
“Look, I can’t find anything concrete, and maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I don’t think this is random. I think Ross is behind the shortage,” Tony said, and Bruce went pale.

“Ross? What- How?” Bruce said tightly.

“I don’t know, I just- listen, Blonsky knew I was helping you, right? Well, what if he read up on me? What if he looked at the papers on the arc reactor? What if he figured out how to get me back where it hurts?” Tony asked, his voice increasingly frenetic. He stood abruptly, raking his fingers through his hair again. “Am I a crazy person? Am I the unhinged one here?” he asked, turning on Bruce, and Bruce stood, coming to him and taking him by the shoulders.

“No, Tony, no. You’re a genius. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known, you don’t sound unhinged,” Bruce reassured him, but Tony could tell Bruce was barely containing his rage towards Ross. Part of Tony felt bizarrely flattered, that Bruce would be angry on his behalf, but that was dancing on the edge of actually unhinged, so Tony roped that thought in.

“I don’t know what to do, Bruce,” Tony said, and his voice cracked on Bruce’s name. “I’ve been stripping Palladium from parts at junkyards, but it’s shavings and scraps, and I can’t quit my job to travel the world’s junkyards to mine Palladium.” Tony paused, and chewed his lip. The next part he hadn’t said out loud before, and had hardly even thought it, because if felt like it would be speaking it into existence. But if he didn’t tell Bruce, it might kill him.

“Bruce, I don’t have very much time,” Tony whispered. “If I don’t come up with something, I’ll be dead within two months.”

There was a long, terrified silence between them, and Bruce softened, pulling Tony into a hug.

“Let me help you,” Bruce murmured, and Tony didn’t have to hesitate before nodding.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Tony admitted, and Bruce pulled back, releasing Tony and pacing as he typically did while thinking.

“You’re sure you can’t use another power source? Another element? Nuclear? Car battery?” Bruce suggested, and Tony snorted at the last one, sitting back down on his stool.

“Yes, no, definitely not, and prefer not to,” Tony said, typing on his illuminated keyboard and pulling up screens on his holo-displays. “Here’s my research into alternatives. Admittedly I haven’t messed with it much since refining the Palladium core, because I didn’t exactly think I was going to run out,” Tony said, gesturing at the screens. “We can start here.”

Two weeks later, they were no closer to a solution, and Tony was starting to feel a little manic and restless. He didn’t have a lot of time left, and it made him feel reckless, rather than motivated. One of the days he didn’t feel well and spent it lying in bed watching movies with Bruce, and the next day hated himself for wasting a whole day of research, when he had so few days left. But then he felt guilty, because if he was going to die, he didn’t want his few remaining days to be spent on research, he wanted them to be spent with Bruce. He ended up losing that day too because he drank himself into guilt-stricken oblivion and passed out on the sofa in the workshop.

“Tony, why did you send me the title to Lola?” Rhodey asked one day in a surprise call, and his voice was suspicious. Tony was elbow deep in an arc reactor prototype that would run off a biogel-plasma core, and didn’t look up at the video call display.

“Thought you might like a nice surprise, Rhodey-Pie,” Tony said. “You always liked her.” Truthfully, he was dying and Rhodey was his best friend and a rather large recipient in Tony’s Final Will and Testament. He might have gotten a little ahead of himself, but he had a strong and sudden need to know Rhodey was out cruising in Lola and having fun, and sent over the signed-off title early.

“True, but not as much as you, you’ve babied that Corvette like it was your child, and now you’re just giving her away? What’s going on?” Rhodey demanded, and Tony glanced up.

“Nothing! I just wanted my oldest friend to have a nice surprise, excuse me for being bad at gifts,” Tony said, and Rhodey narrowed his eyes at Tony’s flimsy excuse.

“All right, but we’re going to talk about this later,” Rhodey said. “Still on for me to come visit for the holidays?”

Tony buried his head back in his project.

“Of course, you know you and Pep are always welcome. Bruce is looking forward to meeting you both,” Tony said, having to force a cheery note into his voice. Rhodey said his goodbyes, and Tony sat in front of the arc reactor that he knew in his heart wasn’t going to work, and wiped his eyes before sweeping the whole thing off the table in frustration.

The next day in class, Tony played AC/DC on the Tesla Coils, then stood on the table to get his students’ attention.

“Hey, guess what? I’m canceling class for the rest of the semester,” Tony said cheerfully, and to his dismay, there were none of the cheers and clapping that he expected, just bewildered muttering.

“Uh, Tony, we have comprehensive exams at the end of the semester, don’t we kind of need to know some more stuff before then?” Peter said, and Tony felt a pang. He’d miss that kid.

“Don’t worry about it, you guys are so far ahead of anyone else, you’ll be skating circles around the exam administrators,” Tony reassured them. Ned tentatively raised his hand.

“Does that mean our exam next week is off, too?” Ned asked, and Tony nodded.

“Yes. C’mon, guys! You’re all being an exceptionally nerdy group of nerds. Class is cancelled! Go celebrate! Take shots! Have a nap! Do whatever it is that college students do when they’re not in class!” he said, making a shooing motion and jumping down from the table. No one moved.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?” Shuri asked, and Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. This was backfiring.

“Everything is fine, guys, you’re all gonna be fine. Now get out of here before I knock your grades off,” Tony said, forcing a smile. His joints were already getting achy again. He watched as the class filed out, muttering amongst themselves in confusion. It hurt him to know they cared. He honestly thought they’d all cheer and run out, not ask about exams and his well-being. He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed that someone narc’d to Dean Fury, when Fury sent him an email demanding he explain himself.

That night, Bruce came over as he’d been doing every night, to help Tony in his research. He brought pizza, but Tony was feeling kind of nauseous and skipped it.

“I heard you canceled class,” Bruce said gently, resting his hand on the small of Tony’s back while Tony looked through a three ring binder of his father’s research. Tony sighed.

“Ungrateful bastards couldn’t even have the decency to act pleased, either,” he muttered. Bruce snorted.

“They do enjoy your class and I daresay actually care about you, you know,” Bruce said, and Tony sat back, leaning against Bruce’s side.

“I know.”

“It’s almost like-“

“Sir, Ms. Potts is calling,” JARVIS interrupted. Tony froze.

“Uh-“

“Oh, put her on the screen, JARVIS,” Bruce said, his face brightening in a smile. He had chatted with Pepper a couple times and Tony knew they were quickly becoming fast friends, but he wasn’t ready for this call because he knew exactly why Pepper was calling.

“Tony, why on earth- oh hello, Bruce- why on earth is there a man in my lobby insisting that your grandfather’s entire prized Matisse and Picasso collection is to be delivered to me at once?” she demanded, and Bruce and her both looked at Tony with a sharp gaze. Tony was pinned.

“I thought you’d like it! You’ve always admired the collection, and-“

“Admired! Not envied!” Pepper said, her voice rising. “Tony, what is going on? The last time you started giving things away like this was when you were in the hospital after the accident. And here James tells me you’ve titled the Corvette in his name? What are you hiding from me?”

“Tony, you did what?” Bruce said, and Pepper looked at him.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you either, hm? Yes, James got the title to the Corvette in the mail with the keys and a pre-paid transport slip. Maybe you can get something out of him, Bruce,” Pepper said, and Bruce looked at Tony with pursed lips.

“Can I call you back, Ms. Potts?” Bruce said flatly.

“I told you to call me Pepper, and yes. I’ll talk to you soon, Tony. I love you, but this is alarming behavior. Goodbye,” Pepper said, hanging up.

“Tony.”

“Bruce, I don’t need you to be up my ass too, it’s just a gift,” Tony said, turning away from Bruce and trying to quell an internal panic. He was giving the things he loved to the people he loved, because he was going to be dead soon.

“A multi-million dollar gift! A completely normal exchange, right?” Bruce said, his voice rising, too. Tony cringed and then faced Bruce.

“It’s my stuff! I can do what I want with it!” Tony yelled.

“Okay, fine! But would you be giving it all away if you didn’t think you’d be dead in a couple weeks?” Bruce demanded. “Tony, have you given up?”

Tony couldn’t respond. Yes, he had given up. But he couldn’t say it out loud. He just couldn’t. Instead, he pushed back, whirling on Bruce in a fit of anger.

“What difference does it make if I have? What do you care?” Tony shouted, and immediately wanted to bite his words back in at the astounded look on Bruce’s face.

“What do I care? What do I care? What the f*ck kind of question is that?” Bruce shouted back. Tony could tell Bruce was angry. “You’re the first person to come along and pull me out of my own head and show me how to- You make me want to-“ Bruce stammered, then let out a frustrated noise, pacing across the workshop. He raked his hands through his hair and looked wild when he whirled to face Tony.

“Whenever your experiments would cause a power outage that interrupted my classes, you’d always say I was too angry and needed to chill out. Remember that? Well, you want to know why I’m angry all the time? Why I can’t ever seem to ‘chill out?’ Because I’ve wanted you since the day we met! Your smart f*cking mouth, the way your hair fell in your eyes, those tight jeans you wear, god Tony, do you even know how hot you are? And you’re so goddamned smart that it’s painful to watch you work and know that I could never match you. And you were so f*cking arrogant about it and I wanted to shut you up, but I could never find the right words and you never stop. Do you realize I got hard once in my office while you were next door, just because I could hear you singing?” Bruce said, pacing again and red in the face with his confession.

“But you hated me, and I thought if I could just convince myself that I hated you too, it would be okay. But it didn’t work. Every time you looked at me, spoke to me, I wanted to scream. But not because I wanted you to go away, but because I wanted spend every minute with you just to learn what things made you smile, and you’d never want me like that. That’s why I’m angry all the time, Tony! Because I want to know you so deeply, I want to love you so much, I want to f*ck you so bad, and I’ve wasted a decade of knowing you, being too stupid and too shy to figure out how to say I’m in love with you, so I pushed you away instead. I’m a miserable man, but my god, Tony, the brightest points in my life are the days I get to see you.”

Bruce took a ragged breath, and came to Tony, holding Tony’s face in both hands. Tony looked at Bruce’s hazel eyes, which were almost green because of the tears in them.

“You might be ready to give up, but I’m not ready to lose you,” Bruce whispered.

There were tears on Tony’s cheeks, and he crumbled, feeling both deeply defeated and deeply loved. He gave Bruce a crooked smile.

“You love me?” he asked softly, and Bruce rolled his eyes.

“I love you, Tony.”

Tony fell into Bruce’s arms, burying his face in Bruce’s neck, and sighing when Bruce’s arms enveloped him.

“I love you too, Bruce,” he said, muffled.

Tony felt Bruce sigh, as though hearing those words from Tony’s mouth soothed a lifetime of hurt and loneliness that weighed Bruce down. Bruce hugged him tighter, and Tony closed his eyes, realizing he’d needed Bruce’s love too, as much as Bruce needed Tony’s.

When they pulled apart, Tony wiped his eyes on his sleeve and sat on the workshop sofa, his head hanging.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Bruce. I’m tapped out. I don’t have anything left. I can’t- I can’t think of anything to fix it this time,” he whispered, the truth of it all settling heavily around them. He looked up at Bruce through wet lashes, not wanting to say it out loud. “I’m scared.”

Bruce came to him and dropped to his knees in front of Tony so they could see eye to eye, and Bruce held both of Tony’s hands.

“It’s not too late, Tony. It’s not too late until…” Bruce chewed his lip. “I’m not giving up. And I’m not letting you give up, either.”

Tony dropped his gaze, ashamed.

“I’m just… I’m just so tired.”

“I know.”

Tony said nothing, and leaned forward to press his forehead against Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce just held him quietly, until Tony was ready to go back to reading through his father’s work. They walked over to the work table, and looked at each other for a long time before they each took a binder and began to study.

Chapter 14 Chapter Text

Several days later, and Tony was starting to have chest pains. Not the usual pains associated with the accident and arc reactor, but sharp, stabbing pains through his heart, left arm, and jaw. Of course he knew this was not good, and it sent him into a panic that Bruce graciously helped him through, but Tony knew that his organs would be going into failure soon if they didn’t think of something. He was already hurting everywhere, his joints on fire and bones aching. He’d put a countdown clock to terminal blood toxicity levels on the corner of one of his holoscreens, but Bruce immediately noticed the red numbers and asked about it, and made JARVIS delete the countdown with a scowl when Tony told him.

“Okay. What about that element that I read about in Howard’s journal? The one with the three stars next to it. It said-“ Bruce said, but Tony interrupted him.

“It said theoretical,” Tony reminded him.

“Yes, but it also said that it exists, that he saw specimens in his travels through Eastern Africa. It’s supposed to absorb vibrations and convert them into clean energy. I wonder if- don’t you think it would be like a self-winding watch in your chest? The vibrations from your heartbeat alone would keep the power output at billions of times the minimum threshold. What was it called?” Bruce asked.

“Vibranium, but there’s no records anywhere of it actually existing, despite dad claiming he saw it. It’s theoretical,” Tony said again, sighing.

“Okay, so synthesize it,” Bruce said, like it was that simple. “You have a particle accelerator powered by a giant arc reactor in your bunker. If you can’t find it, make it.”

Tony stared at him.

“You’re asking me to fabricate an element from- from theories and chicken scratches in a 50 year old journal,” Tony said, simultaneously frustrated that Bruce would suggest such an outlandish thing, and frustrated that he hadn’t thought of it himself.

“Well, why not?” Bruce asked. “Lots of things can be created in labs that are originally found in the Earth. Look at diamonds.”

“Dia- Bruce! That’s rocks and minerals, not elements! That’s-“

“Well you may as well try it, you’re going to be dead anyway,” Bruce huffed, and his words stung, but they were 100% true. He may as well try it. At least if it didn’t work, he could die without wondering what if.

“Fine. Okay. I’ll- wait,” Tony said, and he looked at Bruce with wide eyes. “Just wait. Wait a goddamn-“

Bruce sat up straighter.

“What? What did you think of?”

“Okay, so the big arc reactor in the bunker isn’t run on Palladium, because it’s self-powering, but the miniature arc reactor was too small, it couldn’t self-power, it needed a reactor core. But I couldn’t just pop the core in, it needed a spark to get it going. I- Jesus, I can’t believe it’s that simple. There’s no f*cking way,” Tony said, standing excitedly.

“What? What you’re saying it just needs- what? To be plugged in?” Bruce said, not following.

“No, 120 volts is nowhere near enough. But the power output on the big arc reactor? If we connect it to the particle accelerator and electrify the sh*t out of it while synthesizing-“

“Wait, you’re being literal?” Bruce asked. “The electrician realizes that all he needs is a literal spark to create a new element?”

Tony spread his arms with a hopeful grin.

“Are we not mad scientists?” he asked, and Bruce swept him up into a hug.

“Tony! It’s got to work,” Bruce said, and Tony hugged him back.

“How could I have been so stupid! The answer is right there in front of me every f*cking day,” Tony exclaimed, and Bruce laughed.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said fondly, and Tony just grinned smugly, a little spark of hope blooming for the first time.

“I know,” he said.

They didn’t waste time. Bruce called out for the rest of the week, and he and Tony set about gathering the supplies they needed, some of which were harder to procure that others. There were a few failed attempts, but Tony was determined, now that he had direction.

“Okay,” he said, pushing his welding goggles up on his head. “Okay, cross that one off, it’s not going to work.” He bent down and looked at a pile of ash where a delicate framework of wires previously sat, and sighed.

“I think your problem is you’re not focusing the beam tightly enough,” Bruce muttered, looking over the copious notes he’d been taking.

“If I focus it anymore, it’s going to burn through the walls before I can get it aimed at the framework,” Tony sighed, and Bruce shrugged.

“So what if it does? You’re in a bunker. Where else could you get away with that besides here? Maybe it was meant to be, you know? Your dad took all these notes, built this bunker, and you’ve spent all this time wondering what to do with it. Maybe it’s time to… I don’t know, shake it up a little.”

Tony sat in mystified silence. Again, Bruce was right. Why was Tony limiting himself? He could destroy the whole bunker if he wanted, and wouldn’t it be worth his life?

“Huh,” Tony said, getting a chuckle from Bruce. Tony went back to his worktable, starting to input various datapoints with JARVIS, and soon enough had a new set of calculations for Bruce to double-check.

“Looks good, Tony,” Bruce said, then arched a brow with a low whistle. “Powerful, though. I think we might want to set up from a separate room, just for safety,” he added.

“Yeah, I think that would be good,” Tony agreed, and they got the trial set up. They set up in the next room, and were watching on a series of monitors as they began. They could have been holding their breath with how quiet it was between them.

“Initiating in three… two… one…” Tony said, then tapped the screen, and slowly, a thread of golden light began to appear within the particle accelerator, growing thicker and brighter with each rotation.

“Holding…” Bruce said, adjusting minute controls to keep the power feed steady.

“Initializing charge in three… two… wait,” Tony said abruptly. “Can you feel that?”

Indeed, there was a hum that wasn’t from the next room, it was from the floor vibrating subtly.

“There’s an instability somewhere,” Bruce said, quickly scanning the readouts to find the weakness. “Shutting down,” he said, but Tony swatted his hand away from the controls.

“No, it needs to finish, we’re running out of raw materials, this might be our only shot,” Tony said, his hands flying over the screens as he adjusted the parameters of the accelerator. The vibrating only increased though.

“Tony, we need to keep it contained or you could lose your mansion,” Bruce warned, and Tony glanced up with a manic grin.

“Don’t get cautious on me now, Brucie. Mad scientists, remember?” he said, then picked up a large wrench and headed to the door.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Bruce shouted after him.

“I’m doing this the old-fashioned way!” Tony shouted back, and Bruce ran after him.

The hum in the room was almost deafening, and items were starting to shake off the shelves. Tony pulled his welding goggles down and hooked the wrench into the mirrored portal of the particle accelerator, siphoning off a thread of the light trail inside, which immediately blasted through the opposite wall, startling a shout out of Bruce. Tony held steady though, and slowly moved the wrench with his body weight, directing the blast of light to the right, where the framework of wires surrounding the new arc reactor design sat in a sterile glass box.

The blast roared through the room, like a laser-focused flame-thrower that chewed through everything in its path. It destroyed the wall, cutting a large, horizontal swath through it, disintegrated the shelving along the way, and finally, shattered the glass housing where the new arc reactor sat. The light was immediately absorbed into the wire framework, into a little triangle of pristine diamond, the hardest material available to contain the energy. The vibrating intensified, and distantly, Tony wondered if it could be felt up on the surface.

“Bruce! Hold this!” Tony shouted over the cacophony, and Bruce dropped his tablet and came to Tony’s side, holding the shaking wrench steady and keeping the blast of light focused at the center of the diamond. Tony ran to the control bench, ducking when a glass jar exploded from the roaring vibrations, and looked at Bruce.

“Close your eyes!” Tony shouted, and Bruce closed his eyes tightly, burying his face in his arm to shield himself from the brightness. Tony slammed his hand down on the control to release the electric charge, one so powerful that only the full-size arc reactor was capable of the output.

Immediately he and Bruce were blasted backwards into the wall, there was an explosive screech, a blinding flash of light, and then absolute silence.

Tony didn’t move, his ears ringing and head aching from the impact, until he heard Bruce groan.

“Bruce,” Tony said roughly, crawling with effort across scattered papers and upended shelving units, to where Bruce was shoving a large crate off of him.

“Are you okay?” Tony said, helping, and Bruce coughed, standing up once he was clear of debris.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. You?” he asked, looking Tony over.

“I’m good,” Tony said, and then simultaneously they both turned to face the destruction before them.

The room was annihilated, walls blasted apart, rubble everywhere. And right at the center, was a small, intensely glowing triangle of light.

“Did it…?” Bruce whispered, and he and Tony picked their way across the room to the light.

“Oh my god,” Tony breathed as they leaned forward to look, their faces inches from the triangle of light.

“It worked,” Bruce breathed, and they both met each other’s eyes, splitting into huge, triumphant grins.

“It worked,” Tony whispered, and then they were shouting, hugging and slapping each other’s backs like they were at a sporting match.

“JARVIS! Run the tests!” Tony shouted, picking up the triangle of light with a pair of forceps and seating in fully into the new arc reactor. Instantly, it lit up, a low hum spinning up into silence, and the pulsing light becoming steady. Tony was impatient, but Bruce made him wait until the tests were complete, and then he held the new arc reactor in both hands like a golden egg.

“Only one thing left to do,” Tony said, glancing up at Bruce, who looked nervous, but ready.

“I’m right here with you, Tony,” he said reassuringly, and Tony set it down, then pulled off his shirt. He looked down at his arc reactor, the glow paltry compared to the energy coursing through the new one. He carefully pulled it out, and disconnected the wire. Alarms went off on the monitors that kept track of his vitals, and he felt his heart skip a beat, then skip another, without the pacemaking and electromagnet functions of the old arc reactor.

Quickly Bruce handed him the new arc reactor, now powered by synthetic Vibranium, and Tony inserted it into the hole in his chest, twisted it, and locked it down.

Instantly, he gasped.

“Tony? Talk to me,” Bruce said, worried.

“sh*t,” Tony said, voice strangled. It was a lot. Almost too much. But the energy and power coursing through him was immense. He gasped again, eyes wide. “Feels-“

“Tell me! Are you okay?” Bruce asked again.

“Good- feels- feels good,” Tony said, a breathless grin spreading across his face. The pain was evaporating, the black lines of poison on his chest fading. He felt 20 years younger already. “Tastes like coconut,” he added, making a face.

“Coconut?” Bruce asked, relief on his face.

“I hate coconut,” Tony said, laughing, and Bruce laughed, and Tony couldn’t believe it. He scrambled over to a worktable, where he had to open a drawer to find a little device that measured his blood toxicity level. He pricked his finger on the lancet and pressed the drop of blood into the slot. “JARVIS, what are my levels?” Tony asked.

“Twelve per cent and falling,” JARVIS replied, a note of relief in his mechanical voice, as well.

“Oh my god,” Tony said, and he just stood there, laughing and stunned.

“Tony! You did it!” Bruce said, and Tony just shook his head.

“No, we did it,” he said, and then all at once, Bruce was kissing him, fervent and needy and absolutely in love. Tony kissed him back with everything he had and then some.

Chapter 15 Chapter Text

“Did you see that the Palladium restrictions have been lifted?” Bruce said one morning over coffee. Well, Bruce was drinking coffee and reading the news. Tony was buried in a bundle of wires and gears hanging from the torso of a weaponized suit of armor that he was experimenting with, just as a fun little side project.

“About time,” came Tony’s muffled voice. Luckily, he hadn’t needed Palladium in months. His new arc reactor worked perfectly, with zero waste output. In fact, he intended it to be able to power this suit of armor, when it was completed. “Did they found out Ross was involved?”

“Hang on, I’m reading,” Bruce said, then after a few moments, he chuckled. “Evidence indicates that disgraced Secretary of State, General Thaddeus Ross, convicted of and incarcerated for treason, money laundering, human trafficking, and leading a financial crime ring, was behind the seemingly inexplicable crusade to limit Palladium availability. Lobbyists from Ford, Chevrolet, Toyota, and Honda Motor Companies, along with several others, headed up the pushback against the restrictive legislation.” Bruce whistled low. “Wow, even the car companies got involved,” he said.

“Well, think about how much money it would cost them to redesign catalytic converters without Palladium. Of course they would push back. And Ross was too stupid to think about anything but revenge against me,” Tony said, emerging from the armor with a smear of grease on his cheek. Bruce got up and went to him, wiping the grease off with the sleeve of his shirt. Tony smiled, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“How’d we get into such a nest of weeds together, huh?” Tony mused. Bruce smiled, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders.

“Just lucky, I guess. You’d better think about showering, James and Pepper are going to be arriving in a couple hours, and I have a feeling you and I are going to be a little distracted very soon,” Bruce said, and Tony grinned, excited for his friends to visit for the holidays, and have all the people he loved under one roof. Even Betty and her fiancé were coming, and Tony eager to meet them. Bruce was excited to cook for everyone, and Tony was excited to regale them all with the story of he and Bruce falling for each other over a life and death case of stalking, Palladium poisoning, academia, and creative engineering.

“Mrow,” came a plaintive voice at their feet, and Bruce bent to pick up Ollie, who was weaving around their ankles in search of affection.

“They’re excited to meet you too, Ollie,” Bruce hummed, scratching Ollie’s chin while Tony planted a kiss to her forehead. She just purred, making air biscuits contentedly.

“Let’s go upstairs, Brucie-bear,” Tony said, and hand in hand, they left the workshop and the half-assembled armor behind them and went into the warmth of their room, where Tony lovingly pulled Bruce into the shower with him.

Christmas was in just a few days, and hope for the years ahead sprawled out before them, the joy of their friends, and the love of their lives together, filled Tony with the best kind of happiness, and fought away the loneliness that had plagued him for so many years. In fact, he was so happy that he planned to ask Bruce to marry him, and he kissed Bruce under the hot shower stream and thought of the small wrapped box under the tree that contained a beautiful gold ring for Bruce. Bruce smiled against Tony’s lips, thinking himself of the small ring box in his briefcase that he planned to surprise Tony with on Christmas morning.

“I love you,” Tony whispered, and Bruce kissed him as water poured down over them both.

“I love you too, Tony,” Bruce whispered back, and they were so, so happy.

Heart of the Matter - DaftPunk_DeLorean (2024)

Chapter 1

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Chapter 2

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Chapter 3

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Chapter 4

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Chapter 5

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Chapter 6

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Chapter 7

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Chapter 8

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Chapter 9

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Chapter 10

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Chapter 11

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Chapter 12

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Chapter 13

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Chapter 14

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Chapter 15

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References