My first Avengers fic! Wrote this kind of on a whim, but I've decided how much I adore Bruce and Tony. Reviews are always appreciated, of course! Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Avengers characters.
Enjoy!
"What the hell is this?"
Tony's voice cut through the silence of the unknown lab. Bruce breathed in sharply and exhaled shakily. He lay on the ground, encircled by a wall of glass—the strongest glass ever created, further protected by at least ten systems of alarms and a heavy metal door. Bruce had built the lab in the Stark Tower on his own. He had talked to Pepper about it, and she didn't hesitate to say yes. She saw that Bruce was desperate. She saw that if he was going to stay, he needed to make sure he didn't hurt anyone. Most of all, she knew how much Tony needed him. Tony didn't need to know. Nobody did. And in that glass encasement was a small metal compartment that held a gun. One gun. Nobody knew but Bruce. Until now.
"I asked, what the hell is this?" Bruce couldn't force himself to look at Tony. He heard the anger rising in his voice, but something else was beneath it. Fear, possibly? Not Tony Stark. Never Tony Stark. Breathe in. Breathe out. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut as his breath ripped through his chest.
"How did you find this?" Bruce breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. Engulfed in darkness, the world around him quieted. All he heard was the single shot of a gun. The single shot he had fired just minutes ago, straight into his brain, the shot that never even penetrated his skull. Bruce knew it was useless to try, but having the gun there gave him comfort. Maybe, just maybe, one day it would work. And he wouldn't have to live like this anymore. He thought that being surrounded by friends would make it better, but all it did was throw Bruce into an abyss of fear and self-loathing, imagining the ways he might kill one of the people he cared most about. Crushing Clint and Natasha with a swift move of his arm; watching Clint's strong arms wrapping around Natasha, trying to save her, while rare tears rolled down her cheeks.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Wrapping his arm around Thor's neck, watching him struggle to breathe, clawing at his arm until he couldn't go on any longer. Casting away the life of one of the most powerful men here on Earth. And then ripping Steve's shield from his strong arms, taking a look at that young but so wise face, and then going in for the kill.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Tony was the worst to think about. The one man who didn't fear Bruce. The one man who was not afraid of clapping him on the back, poking him in the side while they worked in the lab together. The one man whose laugh calmed Bruce down, made him breathe, made him think that everything would be okay. When Bruce first saw the lab, his throat caught and he felt a prickle at the back of his eyes. The way Tony stood behind him, so open, so unafraid. The way they worked together, finishing one another's sentences, worked until the middle of the night. The one true friend Bruce ever really knew. The ways Bruce imagined were too horrible, too bloody…it was this nightmare that sent Bruce to the cage, sent him to the gun.
It was this dream that caught his breath. That made it impossible to breathe in. And then breathe out.
"Does it matter?" Tony asked, just inches away from the glass now. Bruce hoisted himself up, groaning. The impact of the gun had caused his collapse to the ground and searing pain in his head. But no gunshot could have pierced Bruce more than the look in Tony's eyes just then. Hurt. He was hurt. Bruce opened and closed his mouth. He couldn't find the right words.
"I'm sorry," Bruce said simply, turning away from Tony and rubbing his eyes. He jumped and cried out when he heard something shatter. Tony had swept his arm across the lab table, sending the contents all over the room. He ran a hand through his smooth dark hair before turning back around to face Bruce.
"Damn it, Bruce, what's that supposed to mean? You're sorry? You could have died."
"We both know that I couldn't have," Bruce said calmly.
"Then why did you do it, huh?" Tony stepped straight up to the cage again, eyes blazing, demanding an answer. "Why would you put that goddamn gun to your head?" His fist slammed against the glass and Bruce jumped. "It's because you still hope, isn't it?"
"Listen, Tony, just go back upstairs. Let's pretend this never happened." Bruce stood shakily, glancing around the room as if looking for an escape. He felt a knot in his stomach. He wanted to run. He needed to run. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. God, Banner, you've got to breathe in, breathe out…
"Oh, okay. I get it. Yeah, that'll work." Tony's deep voice was sharp. Bitter.
"Listen…"
"No, no. You're right. I'll just pretend I didn't see anything. And then one day, maybe you'll find a way to kill yourself. And I'll come downstairs and see you lying in a puddle of blood, eyes open and black and blank, completely gone. Dead. And then I'll just head back upstairs, and pretend that nothing happened. That's just swell."
"Tony—"
"We need you, Banner, don't you get that?"
"Actually I don't." Bruce snapped. "You. The man of metal. What can't you do? You've got a god on your side, and a soldier who citizens love and bad guys fear. You have two assassins who might just top all of you guys put together. You don't need me."
"Oh, yeah we do," Tony sighed, pacing back and forth in front of the glass now. "You have something none of us have."
Bruce scoffed, smiling meanly. "The inability to control my temper? The probability that one day I will kill someone I consider a friend? Maybe even—" Bruce scoffed to himself, looking away from Tony. "Someone I love? You're right, I'm vital to the team. Thanks so much for showing me the light."
"Get out from the cage, Banner," Tony said impatiently. He was bent over the control panel that opened the door, trying to figure out the number of alarm systems that Bruce had installed. But Bruce's voice, usually so smooth and quiet, brought Tony right back to earth. It wasn't a roar—not yet. But it was building. His anger was rising, boiling in his chest, and no lopsided smile of his could stop that.
"Get out of this room, Stark."
Dark eyes met green ones.
"Banner—"
"GET—OUT!" Bruce screamed, and Tony took a step back as he saw green eyes flash at him.
"You know it's me, Banner, come on! Don't do this to yourself. Hell, don't do this to me!" Tony cried, standing in his place. Bruce seethed in pain and clutched his head, running his fingers through his mess of dark curls. He groaned and clenched his fists, his head pounding.
"You know it's me." Something in Tony's voice scared Bruce. He turned sharply, eyes still green, to see Tony's hand hovering over the control panel. He figured it out. Of course he figured it out. Even in this moment, this moment of uncertainty and fear and devastation, Tony looked smug as he watched Bruce.
"Don't—" Bruce gasped, reaching out a hand and seeing that his sleeve was ripped. "DON'T—"
But it was too late. The glass door was sliding open, slowly but surely, and the blurred vision of Tony now became crystal clear. Bruce shook his head, backing against the other side of the cage, as if trying to push himself through. To get as far away from Tony as possible. There was no way that the nightmare would become a reality. Bruce shook as Tony stepped into the cage. No hesitation. No fear in the man's eyes as he walked directly to Bruce and grabbed the back of his neck. Tony brought Bruce's forehead to his own.
"Please," Bruce choked. "Please go."
"You're not going to hurt me."
Bruce nodded, still clawing at the wall behind him. It was happening. He could feel it. This part hurt more than anything else. This part made his heart twist as he watched himself become someone else. Another man. Another creature. It always brought tears to Bruce's eyes, tears that never fell, because the "Other Guy" didn't do sadness.
"Stay with me, Banner," Tony said, more harshly than the last time. "You don't have to do this. Look at me. Look at me."
When Bruce brought himself to look at Tony, he saw brown eyes staring back that shocked him. Fear. Yes, he was sure of it now. Tony Stark was afraid, but not of the monster. He was afraid and desperate and broken, and it was all for Bruce. The fact that he cared—he actually cared—about Bruce, even knowing what he could become.
"Bruce," Tony breathed, tightening his grip on Bruce's neck. "Breathe."
"I—can't," Bruce choked. "I'm so sorry—Tony—I'm so sorry."
And then Bruce blinked. And when he opened his eyes, the green was gone, replaced with glassy brown. Tony breathed a sigh of relief. Instead of tearing away, Tony stayed where he was for a moment. Bruce knew that his head was burning up—he knew that Tony could feel it.
"I'm sorry," Bruce repeated, and a sob escaped him before he could stop it. "I didn't want to die. I just—I didn't want you to die." Bruce choked on his words, and brought up a hand to rest on Tony's neck. He wanted to push him away yet keep him close all at the same time.
"Psh. Are you serious? I could take you," Tony laughed, and Bruce laughed through his tears.
"I don't want to die," Bruce whispered.
"Then don't shoot yourself in the head with a gun," Tony whispered back, bringing forth another rare smile from Bruce. Bruce nodded and leaned away from Tony, bringing a hand across his eyes. He edged around Tony and headed for the door. Tony stayed where he was, but leaned against the glass, arms crossed.
"I'm going to destroy this room, you know."
Bruce laughed. "I know."
"And I'm going to put that gun where you can never find it."
"I know."
"And when you 'Hulk out,' even when you're not supposed to, I'm never going to leave you."
Silence.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes, I heard what you said." Bruce took a couple tentative steps forward and leaned in the doorway, eyes boring into Tony's. Tony stared straight back. Something in Bruce's eyes made his heart break a little bit. The way he doubted Tony. The way he walked around everyone else—like he was afraid of breaking something. The way he made polite conversation for a while before disappearing back into his room. The way he was so scared. Scared of others, scared of himself. Tony hated to see it. It made his blood boil, his head hurt, the knot in his stomach tighten—and he had to remind himself to breathe in, breathe out.
"You make me mad," Tony laughed, stepping away from the glass and heading back outside. Bruce followed, nearly walking on his heels.
"I mean, if I were you, I'd be turning into the big guy right now. That's how angry you make me."
"Wh—what?" Bruce asked, unsure of whether to laugh or take a step back. Tony turned back to face him sharply, once again just inches from his face.
"You are going to accept the fact that you are one of us. You are going to accept the fact that we are not scared of you. I mean, Natasha? Please." Tony laughed, turning back around. "She could take you any day. After your 'test run,' I'm sure it would be fun for her."
"Tony," Bruce warned, but Tony waved his hand.
"Get used to it. Accept it. No one is afraid of you. No one hates you. Some of us would go so far as to say we love you. I know, right? Imagine that," Tony joked, but the words made Bruce catch his breath and stop walking, falling a few paces behind his friend. Tony gave him a fleeting smile—one meant only for Bruce—before he disappeared up the stairs, with every belief that Bruce would follow.
And Bruce would follow. After he took a few seconds to breathe, he would follow. And he would know that everything would be okay. He would follow, knowing that on the other side of the monstrous cage he'd built for himself, were a family of misfits just as confused as himself. He would follow, knowing that Tony would be there with that wide grin and usual clap on the back, hand on the shoulder, poke in the side.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
And follow.