As You Wish, Mr. President
The state of Ohio was abuzz with excitement on the night of November 8, 2016. Senator Bruce Banner was the Democratic candidate for President, and he was from right there in Dayton. At Dayton's city hall, Senator Banner was gathered with his wife, Betty, and very few close friends, along with his campaign team. The race was tight- California's Republican candidate, a Hank Pym, was scooping up just as many wins as Bruce. Finally, well after midnight, the announcement came in over the national news.
"Everyone, hush! They're about to announce the winner!" yelled Betty. The group crowded around the TV, everyone holding hands and crossing their fingers that all their work would have paid off.
"And the winner of the 2016 Presidential election is… Senator Robert Bruce Banner from Ohio!" The rest of the TV's words were completely drowned out by the cheering of every person in the room. Bruce kissed his wife, and then turned to face the local news cameras, preparing to deliver his acceptance speech.
"I couldn't have accomplished this feat without every single person in this room being here. My wife, Betty, our children, and my campaign team all supported this ludicrous idea. I never imagined this would actually happen. I'd like to send my apologies to Senator Pym- Senator, you certainly were a formidable opponent, and for a while, I thought you might actually win this thing over me. All in all, this was one hell of a race, and I'm certainly glad I could run it against Senator Pym. Thank you all for your support over the past year, and goodnight to all of you." He raised his hand in farewell before leaving his podium. "I think it's time for bed- for all of us. I'll see you all tomorrow." Linking his arm with Betty's, he exited the building, ready to return home to his children- and more importantly, his bed.
The next few months were an absolute whirlwind. They had to prepare for the inauguration, find an appropriate school for 10-year old Ben to attend, pick out a school for 6-year old Lucy to finish kindergarten, pack all their belongings, and say goodbye to everyone they knew in Ohio- which, with two children, was a lot. Finally, the day of the inauguration was upon them. It was another cold, blustery day in Washington D.C., but it was simpler than most inaugurations had been. It lasted a total of an hour, and then everyone went home. President Banner was officially in the White House.
His first two years went exceedingly well, with higher approval ratings than any other President, and more legislation passed on the environmental status of the U.S., including the prevention of plowing forests to build new houses, hotels, shopping centers and otherwise. It was in the third year when things began to fall apart.
The President of the United States groaned and rolled over- or rather, rolled, and then fell off of the couch that he had fallen asleep on. He vaguely remembered last night- getting extremely drunk at a dinner party, yelling at his Cabinet to get out of the house, and somehow must have passed out on the living room couch. "It's a good thing Betty's out of town," he muttered as he surveyed the smashed vases and flowers strewn everywhere. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at his watch and bolted upright. "Shit. I've got to make sure the kids got up and off to school. And now I have to drop off their lunches and apologize for not getting up- shit. This is why I don't drink." He didn't realize that he had just had an entire conversation with himself before he got to the kitchen. "Alright, Bruce, let's pack these lunches and deliver them now."
"That won't be necessary, Mr. President."
Staring into the fridge when he heard this unknown voice, he stood up so fast that he smacked his head on the fridge, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to stare at the man standing in the doorway.
"I'm sorry- do I know you?" Bruce suddenly realized how terrible he must look- his left forearm was bleeding from a cut- probably from one of the vases- his suit was torn and rumpled, and he had bits of flowers in his hair. And this man- this man was attractive. Bruce was a straight, married, adult man, but this guy was seriously hot. His perfectly rumpled dark brown hair, the trimmed goatee that was like nothing Bruce had ever seen before, and of course, the clothes- somehow, this man made jeans and a dark blue button up shirt with a suit jacket- lacking a tie- look incredibly sexy.
The man chuckled. "No, I don't suppose you would. My name's Tony Stark- I'm a developer down in the weapons department of the Pentagon. They sent me up here to deliver a message about an incident in New Mexico- but that can wait. As I was arriving, they were taking your kids off to school, lunches and all. I understand that this is a very rare occurrence for you to not drive your children personally."
Bruce nodded, still holding one hand on the lump on his head. "Yeah, it is. I had a dinner party last night, and I got wasted. I woke up this morning like this and all I could think was 'Thank God I'm not naked'. Not sure why, but that was the first thing I thought."
Tony laughed. "Makes sense. Now, sit down- I'll get you an icepack and bandage up that arm of yours." He moved to the freezer and pulled out a tray of ice, dumping the whole tray and more into a small, head injury sized insulated bag before tossing it to the President. "Hold this on your head, and I'll be right back." He disappeared around the corner before returning, armed with scissors, a very large roll of gauze, and athletic tape. Dropping the gauze and tape on the table, he moved the scissors to Bruce's arm.
"Whoa, hold up a second. What are you going to do with those, Mr. Stark?" the President asked warily.
Tony rolled his eyes. "If you think I'm going to try to murder you with these, then you are sorely mistaken, Mr. President. I'm going to cut off your sleeve so I can access the whole cut to bandage it. Unless, of course, you'd rather take the shirt off."
"In that case, I'll take the latter. I need to throw this shirt away now anyway- it's a shame. This was one of my favorite shirts." Bruce grimaced, looking down at the torn and bloodstained shirt that used to be a bright purple, embroidered with his initials on the chest pocket. Placing the ice pack on the table, the President stood up and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, his face contorting in pain as the fabric passed over the gash in his arm. "There. Now you can access the cut, and I can trash this shirt." He balled up the ruined shirt and sat back down, extending his left arm towards Stark for the man to bandage the injury. Deftly, the other man wrapped the President's arm in gauze, sealing the ends to Bruce's arm with the athletic tape and sitting back to examine his handiwork.
"I hate to tell you this, but you're going to need to change that in a few hours- in fact, stiches might even be necessary, Mr. President. I hope you've got a very private doctor, because this is a serious wound. You'll have to be very careful over the next few weeks, so that you don't reopen it or infect it."
Bruce shrugged. "That won't be a problem. As President, I'm not really allowed to do anything remotely dangerous- besides golf, which is about as exciting as watching water boil," he said, before asking what was on his mind. "By the way, Stark- how did you know all this about the gash if you're a weapons developer?"
Tony smiled. "Part of the job, sir. You don't learn to make weapons without hurting yourself a few times, and sometimes it's easier to patch yourself up rather than explain to a doctor. You learn things as you go along."
"Well, thank you. I wouldn't have been able to get this patched up without you, Mr. Stark. I really appreciate it."
Tony nodded. "Thank you, Mr. President. And now, I believe it is my time to leave. My briefing can wait until tomorrow, and I know you're a very busy man." He stood up and brushed off his jeans, more for show than anything else, and walked to the door. Before leaving, he turned back to the President. "I'll come back around 10 tomorrow morning, if that's all right. And you can call me Tony, Mr. President. And may I say, you have a very well-defined chest."
Bruce smiled. "Well, thank you Mr- I mean, Tony. And 10 seems like the perfect time for us to meet tomorrow. I don't see my Cabinet until 12, so that should give us plenty of time. And you can call me Bruce."
"As you wish, Mr. President. I'll see you tomorrow morning." The taller man exited the White House kitchen, leaving the President sitting shirtless at the table, with a slowly appearing scarlet stain on the crisp white bandage around his forearm.
At exactly 9:55 the next morning, Bruce's secretary knocked and opened the door. "Mr. President, I have a Mr. Stark here to see you."
"Ah, yes, Tony. Let him in, Mindy." Bruce stood and greeted Tony, dressed as informally but sexily as yesterday, warmly at the door. "Thank you for bandaging me up yesterday. I really appreciate it."
Tony waved off the statement. "It's no problem, Bruce. I was just doing my duty to protect and serve the President."
Bruce gestured to the seat across from his desk. "Well, I suppose we should at least act like you have a purpose for being here. So, tell me about this New Mexico disaster." Both the men sat, and Tony started explaining. "We're not actually sure what happened- there was a guy who called himself Thor, like the Norse god, and he was attacked. A huge metal man just kind of appeared, and completely leveled the place, just to get at this Thor. The guy called it the Destroyer, and we can understand why. It can more or less breathe fire, and it's seemingly impossible to kill. It disappeared back into the sky, but we felt that you should be alerted. I was put in charge of trying to figure this out, and therefore I got to debrief you."
Bruce's eyes widened and he shook his head. "That's pretty unbelievable. I mean, I don't think you're lying but- wow. That's one hell of a story." Bruce stood up and walked to the mini fridge in the corner, taking out a small bottle of scotch. Turning to Tony, he waved the bottle. "Want a drink?"
"I'd love one. It's been a long few days."
Bruce poured the alcohol into two glasses, carrying one over to Tony before leaning against the desk and draining his glass in one gulp. Tony did the same, knocking back the drink like it was a usual activity for him.
"I know what you mean," Bruce replied. "It's been one hell of a week." Pouring himself another glass of scotch, he found himself staring at Tony's chest. "Mmmm. He's even sexier than I remember. And damn- that ass is great," he thought as the other man rose to get another glass of scotch himself. Suddenly, on complete impulse, Bruce did something he never thought he would- he leaned over and kissed Tony full on. Once he realized what he was doing, he realized something else- Tony was kissing him back, his hands entwining in Bruce's hair as Bruce's hands slid town Tony's waist, stopping on his hips. Finally breaking apart, both men were breathing heavily.
"Oh, god- I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark. I should never have done that- I don't know what came over me." Bruce stepped back, horrified after what he had done.
Tony, on the other hand, was grinning. "No, don't feel bad, Mr. President. It's completely fine- in fact, I was thinking of doing the same thing myself."
"Really?" Bruce asked. "I mean… I'm glad you're not offended. Maybe we should continue discussing this disaster in New Mexico tomorrow, after I've composed myself."
"As you wish, Mr. President. I'll return at the same time tomorrow." Tony straightened his tie and left the Oval Office, this time leaving Bruce sitting behind the Resonant Desk, with his head in his hands.
Tony Stark frowned and paused the Terminator movie that he was watching as he heard his doorbell ring. There was a thunderstorm raging outside, and it was 10 o'clock at night.
"Who the hell would drive out to my house at this time of night in a thunderstorm?" he muttered as he crossed the living room to open the front door, revealing a rain-soaked President Bruce Banner.
"Bruce? What- what are you doing here?" he stammered, shocked to see Bruce at his house in the middle of a thunderstorm. He pushed the door open, allowing the President to enter his house.
"I- I wanted to see you. I think I love you, Tony."
"I think I love you too, Bruce."
Bruce grinned. "I think we both know where this is going, Mr. Stark."
"Mr. President, an affair- especially with another man- will ruin your reputation."
"I don't care," Bruce whispered as he leaned over, trailing a kiss along Tony's jawline. "I don't care."