It was cold. As he traced lines along her precious skin, he couldn't help but feel how cold her body was.
He did it. It was all his fault. Standing up and knocking what used to be a computer over, he looked through the pile of wood on the floor. Finding what he was looking for, he picked up the gun and fired a few bullets at the window, shattering the glass.
His hand trembling, he slowly put the gun down. Looking over at what he has done, he grit his teeth.
If only he wasn't there.
He buried his face in his hands and laughed, a sad, hollow sound.
"Doctor Banner... Bruce!" He heard in his ear. He opened his eyes to see a familiar face. Blinking away the tears that welled up in his eyes, Banner sat up, avoiding his friend's concerned gaze.
"What?" He asked, his voice hoarse.
Steve knit his eyebrows together and set down his glass, filled almost to the brim with clear water. Bruce finally looked at him, his expression blank. When Steve didn't answer for an extended amount of time, apparently examining his form, Bruce got up and off the couch.
"I better get going." He said, getting his shirt from the floor and putting it on.
Feeling fingers wrapping his wrist tightly, he looked at the other Avenger.
"Let me go, Rogers." He bit out. If only it were Tony, it would have all been different.
Eyeing the silky bathrobe that Steve had on, he smirked.
Of course. Why the fuck would he care. He felt his pulse starting to go up. As much as he wanted to, he had to try and not hurt Tony's lover. He freed himself. On the way to the exit, he grabbed a half empty bottle of Smirnoff.
He slipped his shoes on and walked out the door, closing them with a soft click.
The moon that had some time to become full shone upon him, taking all the colors out. He downed the vodka and smashed the bottle on the ground.
Smiling, he picked up a shred of glass. He clenched his fist around it, drawing blood.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It dripped down his fingers and to the floor. He dropped to his knees and lowered his head, clenching his fist tighter and fisting the other hand in his hair, as if trying to pull it out.
Upon hearing footsteps, he froze.
"Shut up." He whispered.
"I'm not saying anything." Came an answer, in a slightly amused voice.
He looked up at the male and knit his eyebrows.
"What the hell are you doing...?" He asked. Feeling a grip on his wrist, he looked down and away.
"That's my question." Tony opened his hand and examined the cuts. He knit his eyebrows and released the grip.
Bruce got up and dropped the glass down.
"... Nothing." He shook his head, as if to emphasize.
"Well. That certainly is something."
Seeing the concern on Tony's face, Bruce sighed. Closing his eyes, he covered his face with the uninjured hand.
"Let me rephrase. It's nothing for you to worry about."
"Let's just cut to the chase here. Just who are you planning to tell?"
"My wife."
Tony blinked.
"You've got a wife?"
"Used to." He smirked, knowing that Stark wouldn't catch on straight away. "Before."
Tony looked at him for a short while before he exhaled loudly.
"I had a feeling that it was something along those lines." He put an arm around Bruce's shoulders. "We'll do it, Brucey. Someday we'll get it right." He whispered, sending shivers down Banner's spine. He smiled a bit, instantly almost calm.
"Yeah... I guess."
Someday.