Title: Home for the Holidays
Author: ELLE & Valiant Bandit
Pairings/Warnings: Tony/Bruce, angst, explicit language
Notes: ELLE was inspired to write this angsty trash after hearing the song "I'll be Home for Christmas" but didn't want to write such a stupidly depressing fic for Christmas and so she asked if her good friend wouldn't finish it from Tony's perspective and save her from herself. ;-)
Rockefeller Square during the holidays was gorgeous. A massive Christmas tree bedecked in lights and jewel tone ornaments stood in the center of it, wire structure light displays of angels with outstretched wings and trumpets and stars surrounded it, and large wreaths were hung on the neighboring buildings. Instrumental holiday songs were being played in anticipation of the event about to take place. The air was crisp and cool and so unlike the little Argentinian hideout Bruce had been holed up in for the past two months that he almost appreciated the excessive warmth of the oversized wool coat, knit cap, and scarf wrapped around his face – necessary only to hide it.
Bruce watched from his corner seat as a little girl in a soft blue peacoat carrying a stuffed likeness of the Hulk hurried across the brickway to meet her father, who reached out for her hand as she and her mother got in line. She leaned over her daughter's head to quickly peck her husband on the lips.
The whole thing turned his stomach and his hands worked not to clutch at the paper cup of coffee too tight and crush it. The Hulk deserved no toy, no recognition. Were they not aware of the destruction done by that creature less than two months ago at his very location? The scaffolding used for repairs was still up, just well hidden. Plastic sheets still covered the windows of surrounding buildings – so many windows destroyed there weren't enough in stock to replace them all at once.
He could close his eyes and see his own hands – warped and green and larger than life but still his – as they tore through brick and concrete, tore out desks and threw them to the ground, heedless, mindless of the brutal destruction he'd caused. How was that admirable? No image of his, no matter how diminutive, stuffed, and... and "cute," deserved to be here. Who would want it anyway? No one could love such a monster.
But then the static of a microphone clearing echoed through the square followed by that little laugh – slightly self-conscious but in a weird, inviting way, as though it were letting you know it was okay to laugh too – it was almost too much. It shredded straight through every layer of skin and bone and lodged straight in Bruce's heart, pain radiating through the core of his body as he stared hard at the white plastic cap of his coffee and tried to ignore the way his hands made it shake.
Because there was one man who once claimed to love him – monster and all. And he was currently standing on stage in the middle of Rockefeller Square, running a toy drive to impart some goodwill in the face of the wreckage the other guy had left in his wake. But no one deserved to be constantly responsible for cleaning up his messes – least of all Tony.
It was difficult to look up – hell, it was difficult to breath let alone do something more advanced like actually lift his head – but Bruce forced himself to do it. After all, why travel over nine thousand kilometers not to even take a glance at him? It wasn't like Tony would really be able to pick him out of the massive crowd at this distance. But shit – it was hard. So unbelievably hard.
The thing was – it wasn't that Bruce wasn't used to denying himself the things he wanted. Fuck – no. He was more than adept at that. It was that he had tried to deny Tony, tried it over and over and over again, but Tony refused to let him, just like the selfish, entitled bastard that he was. Instead he had to stubbornly smash down every single one of Bruce's defenses until he actually trusted him, until he dared with some little piece of his badly bruised heart to hope that somehow, someway, even if it wasn't perfect, even if it could never be a fairytale, still – they could make it work. And that was what really did him in. Optimism. Faith. That other little four letter word he dare not let himself think because god if he thought it here, now, when Tony was so close? It would be impossible to leave.
Steeling himself, Bruce glanced up towards the stage. And when his eyes landed on Tony, he thought he might have actually felt his heart stop – a strange feeling for someone who constantly monitored the pounding of that bit of muscle and flesh for every minute quickening, every irregular acceleration. But it was just... God, he just looked so good.
He was in a suit – and really, Tony looked so good in a suit. Granted, Bruce knew part of that was that all of his suits were custom tailored to his body, but it didn't matter. Whether this one of soft grey wool or the more flashy red and gold, there was nothing about a suit that didn't make Bruce want to peel Tony out of it piece by piece. And the way the cold flushed his features was unexpectedly pleasant and almost – though he'd never say it to his face, not that he'd get the chance anyway – adorable.
Pepper stood beside him in a lovely white coat with a red scarf poking out but it washed her out in the cold, making her look pale and otherworldly. It wasn't wholly unpleasant and as she floated across the stage to whisper something in Tony's ear that made him grin – and it seemed to almost compliment him. Light and dark. Maybe now that he was gone Tony could reprise that relationship and find happiness in it again. Bruce sighed as he chewed at his lower lip. Just another thing he wrecked.
And he knew what Tony would say – it wasn't his fault. Just like the destruction of this square wasn't intentional. It was for the best or it was what had to happen or whatever fucking excuse Tony would use to try to justify it. No argument could ever negate the fact that he always ended up destroying something. His good intentions didn't make him any less responsible – the road to hell and all that. Nor did they make him feel any less guilty.
When Tony started talking, Bruce couldn't help but look down and bury his nose further into his scarf. This was awful – truly awful. He didn't know what he was doing back here. Tony's voice... Even the fake voice he used for the crowd was too much, too potent. It washed over him with that calm, soothing quality it always had, made him long for the few moments they had shared a bed together and Tony would talk him to sleep with all of his plans. Plans for the suits, plans for the tower, plans for – for the holidays...
Bruce could hardly think it although it was the whole reason why he was here. He remembered laying next to Tony, the way Tony's hand looked as his pressed against it in the dim light of his master suite, palms touching, fingers splayed in the same pattern, warm and open. He remembered listening to him as he rattled on about Christmas in New York City. Bruce had never been anywhere so populated for a holiday, not for a long time, but for whatever reason Tony apparently had positive memories of Christmas. And although his voice was even and smooth Bruce remembered the way it lit up at the edges as he described the hypothetical white Christmas they'd have and the tree Pepper would have put up in the lobby of the tower and how he had the top floor of some swanky hotel reserved for a big company party to watch the ball drop in Times Square on New Years.
And though he felt so fucking stupid now, he remembered how badly he wanted that. He remembered how it made him feel inside, all fluttery and stupid, like a fucking kid, to allow himself to believe for a moment that he was going to have a real holiday. For so many years he'd avoided the very thought, every past holiday bringing back bad memories of a childhood steeped in abuse but now...
He sneered at himself, feeling the paper cup start to crumple in his grip. What a fucking moron. Not even Tony's optimism could cut through his self-destructive tendencies.
Yet he was here, after all. That optimism must've gotten to him at least a little. Optimism or longing, he admitted, if only to himself, as his eyes turned back towards the stage as Tony began to allow kids on stage to meet him. But no amount of optimism could distract him from the fact that this was just a dream. A nice dream, a dream he wanted fiercely, but the idea that he could really be with Tony – laughable. Impossible. Tony...
Tony needed to live among people. Tony couldn't disappear at the drop of a hat. Tony would spend his entire life putting together the things Bruce ripped apart and he couldn't let him do that – couldn't let anyone do that, really. Tony was his antithesis – it was stupid to ever let himself think that could work.
Bruce watched as the little girl in the blue coat carrying the stuffed Hulk approached Tony and Pepper, holding out the toy, her parents standing only a few steps back. It was clear she had no fear of Tony's celebrity unlike some of the preceding children and he squatted down to meet her eye level, holding out his hand. His other hand covered his lapel microphone but you could hear the faintest muffled whisper of the chuckled question – "Hulk?"
The little girl nodded, gold ringlets bouncing ever so slightly as she did. Whatever she said to Tony made his grin widen into a genuine smile. His eyes cast about the crowd for a minute and suddenly Bruce's heart was pounding.
He moved away from the wall in the least suspicious manner he could as his whole body was screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. He knew. Somehow Tony fucking knew he was there, the bastard, and Bruce knew he wasn't just going to let him leave.
Bruce didn't look up but he knew Tony had moved his hand strategically so that his attempt at covering the mic was futile and his voice was picked up easily, if still a bit distorted –
"Oh I think the Hulk will be back real soon."
And that was it. Bruce felt his throat constrict as he desperately tried to maintain hold on the panic rising from his stomach. Because god, if Tony... If Tony found him, if he was alone with Tony for more than a minute, it was going to be over. He was going to capitulate. He was going to come back here and then it would only be a matter of time before he destroyed something else, hurt someone, fuck, killed someone and he couldn't live with that. He couldn't live with that knowing he had been so selfish. He didn't get the things he wanted. He could never let himself have that.
Yet as he walked out of the square he couldn't help but spare a glance back to the stage, feeling every nerve ending in his body light up like the damn Christmas tree stationed behind Tony as their eyes met across several hundred feet and just as many people. And in that moment Bruce knew – he was well and truly fucked. It was only a matter of time before Tony would find him – and he didn't think he'd be able to make it out of the city first.
Two weeks later, on Christmas Eve, Tony sat on a Stark helicopter, watching New York City shrinking as he left it behind. The last few months swirled through his head, all of it coming down to this.
Bruce had given him warning that he was leaving and Tony had tried to convince him to stay, but nothing he said could change Bruce's mind. The Hulk had been out of control and Bruce wouldn't forgive himself for the destruction he had caused. Tony had showed him the video that proved Hulk's rampage had been because Tony was injured during the battle and had been taken away to a SHIELD hospital. Bruce didn't care that the public wasn't angry, that seeing that Hulk could love someone seemed to have cemented the city's adoration of him. All he could focus on was the damage that he blamed himself for, the potential for him to fail in the future.
And so he left, the way he always did, and Tony had spent the week after in a drunken haze. But then, some of his most brilliant ideas came to him in a drunken haze. So he sobered up and re-evaluated his plan to see if it was just as good without the alcohol.
Pepper was surprisingly supportive of it. He had been afraid she would put her foot down when he said he wouldn't be there for the Christmas and New Year's social events, but she'd smiled and said she would handle it. Then Tony started putting the plan in action.
He would've said it was lucky that Bruce had shown up in New York, but then he had known Bruce would be there. Just like he'd known Bruce would show up in New York the last time. He was nothing if not predictable.
Tony remembered the little girl in Rockefeller Square and the smile they shared as she handed over her stuffed Hulk to donate to the toy drive with one last hug and then walked away with her parents. He had a complicated relationship with children. They made him think of his parents and how rarely he'd been allowed to be a kid.
And so he had given up childish things like making Christmas wishes. But this year he had one wish because Bruce was the exception. As he had stared at the Hulk doll in his hand before passing it off to Pepper, he knew Bruce would always be the exception. The person who slid behind his walls. The one who kept up with him, matched him, made him feel like he was worth more than his inventions, his money, and his fame. The one who saw him for everything that he was and still... well, there was the wish.
He had slid a hand into his pocket then and run a finger along the embossed surface of the envelope waiting there. He only needed a moment to slip it into Bruce's hand, then it was up to Bruce. Bruce was afraid to stay, afraid of New York and the people and the media that he could never quite escape. Tony didn't blame Bruce, he'd lived this his whole life and it still scared him a little, but he didn't have unrestrained destruction hiding behind his fear.
When Tony finally finished with the seemingly endless line of children he managed to smile as the last little boy walked away, donating a stuffed Iron Man that Tony studied as he held it in his hand. There had been a time when hosting a toy drive and dealing with children handing him things would have felt like torture, but over the last year with Bruce, he'd realized that maybe children weren't the scariest thing. That if Bruce was by his side, settling down might not be so bad.
He stepped back to the microphone to close the event, hoping to use his vantage point on the raised platform to find Bruce again. He remembered the feeling of giving his public smile as he recited the thank you he no longer remembered but which Pepper had insisted he use word-for-word. Just before he stepped away he noticed an unassuming figure weaving their way through the crowd. They were just a little too overdressed for the unseasonably warm weather and who wore a scarf over their face anyway? It was almost like Bruce wanted him to notice.
"Gotcha," Tony had muttered under his breath before giving one final flashy smile and stepping off the platform. He kept a careful eye on Bruce's path, remembering viscerally the anxiety of not wanting to lose him again.
Pepper had been waiting for him at the bottom of the steps with the bag he'd asked her to have ready for him. Two could play at being inconspicuous.
"Did you find him?" she asked.
"Yes, but he's leaving. This has to be now." Tony had taken his coat off and pulled on the hoodie from the bag, followed by sunglasses and a plaid scarf.
Tony started working his way through the crowd in Bruce's direction. The Christmas revelers were gawking at the tree and he smiled when he heard a group of small kids pretending to save Christmas as The Avengers. He caught a glimpse of the back of Bruce's head just as he turned into the sidewalk. Tony hurried to catch up, knowing that if he lost Bruce now he might never have another chance. He fell into step next to Bruce as they walked. He was sure Bruce felt him there and after about half a minute he reached over for Bruce's hand.
Bruce took a deep breath and let it out, barely audible as he breathed out Tony's name. Tony stopped walking, pulling Bruce close to him.
"I just wanted to say Merry Christmas. And to give you this." Tony pulled the envelope from his pocket and wrapped Bruce's hand around it. He leaned in and gently pressed his lips against Bruce's, then turned back and disappeared into the crowd of people.
He blinked and he was pulled out of memory and back into the plane, remembering how he wrote the simple message with a rarely used pen. "I miss you" the note he'd handed to Bruce had said. Just those words, along with a date and GPS coordinates.
Tony had owned the cabin where those coordinates sat for years, had once planned to rebuild it into a mountain retreat where he could woo particularly interesting socialites. Then the cave and the reactor and Iron Man happened, his priorities had changed and he'd practically forgotten about it, just a footnote in an accounting ledger, but...
He hoped Bruce would come.
The helicopter touched down near the cabin and Tony climbed out, waving to the pilot as he took off again. With Pepper's help Tony had arranged for the cabin to be prepared and groceries dropped off earlier in the week so they – hopefully both of them, please let it be both of them – would be supplied with food and basic necessities until the beginning of January. If Bruce came – when Bruce came, he didn't want to have to rush.
Tony let himself into the cabin and wandered through it. Just him, but it was early in the day. He returned to the great room and lit a fire, curling up into a chair and opening a book. He rarely indulged in actual paper, but this felt like the time for it. He lost himself in the story of a boy discovering a magical world beneath the surface of his small, country neighborhood. He finished the final page and looked out the window, where the sun had gone down and he could only see a few feet of snow on the ground outside.
He sighed and closed his eyes. He hadn't let himself think about what he would do if Bruce didn't come. He'd been so certain that this was the right thing to do. That they could work this out. He lay his head back into the chair and gave himself over to sleep so he didn't have to think any more.
Tony started awake and jumped out of his chair as he heard the door open. The figure was barely lit by the embers of the dying fire, but Tony knew him immediately.
Bruce shut the door and stepped towards Tony. "I missed you, too."
He slipped out of his coat and gloves, leaving them on the hooks by the door and walked slowly across the room to take Tony's hand.
Tony ran his fingers across Bruce cheek. "I was afraid you would stay away."
Bruce closed his eyes, leaning into Tony's touch. "I was afraid I would, too. The Other Guy thinks I'm afraid too much." Bruce laughed quietly at that. "One of us has to be, I guess." He leaned his forehead against Tony's. "I don't want to be afraid any more. I want to be with you."
Tony's face lit up in an irresistible smile and he buried his hands in Bruce's hair, pulling him forward into a kiss. And then Tony opened his eyes, staring deep into Bruce's. Bruce ran his hands down Tony's back, pulling him closer, he closed his eyes, his chest rising against Tony's. Bruce opened them and gently kissed Tony again.
Bruce's lips moved against Tony's as he whispered, "I love you, Tony."
Tony smiled again, his heart beating hard against the reactor. "I love you, too."
They held each other tight, reveling in their closeness, their lips occasionally meeting in gentle kisses. The clock over the fireplace began quietly chiming midnight, ushering in the first Christmas morning that had given either of them their wish.