Hello there my Pretties! Here's a mysterious, scientific romance/thriller/chiller. :) Anyone ready for corruption and questionable control of biology and science? LETS GO! A little bit of language, because, come on...Tony is in it...and of course, some Bromance and love growing betweeen our protagonists. :D
EDIT: I just fixed grammar errors and the like. Nothing in the story changed though, just made it a little more understandable.
Bruce's POV
Like most things in my life, it had been an entire accident. But this wasn't something that I could measure into a beaker and hypothesize the reactions, wasn't an equation I could keep plugging variables into to achieve a desired result. If anything, I was tampering with volatile chemicals, and like usual I was blindly trusting to think that I had it under complete control.
Yet this wasn't science like Gamma radiation or gravity, something that was constant or at least was commonly predictable in the right conditions. No, this was something still theoretical and heard about only in myth, like splicing human and animal genes or time travel.
It was dangerous and taboo, filthy and aching, too close to the edge of experimentation and actual test runs to be reality, but so far away that it was still in the blue print stages, only sloppy sketches and whispered rumors. But at 3:04 AM on a Saturday morning, with both of us running on only a few hours of sleep and a whole case of energy drinks, I asked if this was possible.
"Ethical." Tony had countered good-naturedly. "Anything is possible. The question isn't about whether or not we can do it; it's whether or not we should do it." And I should have seen the spark in his eyes at that, like a newly kindled lighter flame, that look of inexhaustible curiosity and the necessity to push limits, break the boundaries. I should have said 'No.' in a stern voice and driven his mind back to S.H.I.E.L.D. projects or offered a power nap or early breakfast. But instead, I gave into that sly voice in my head, which sounded an awful lot like Tony, and entertained his theory, gave him a test tube and started into work.
It had been a flaw of judgment, or maybe it was the strong willed thought that nothing we ever dreamed up that late at night ever saw the light of life. A few times we'd wake and wonder how far gone we were to think half of the ideas were plausible and just laugh as we erased the white board. But as I stand looking at this, all I can think is how much trouble Tony and I are in when everyone finds out.
-Sunday Night-
Pacing usually quelled the terrible ache in his stomach, settled the storm that was raging up from emotional waters, things old and thick like a fog, things like fear, denial, guilt. But as Tony kept turning on heel and stalked across the room, it seemed he was just wearing the carpet thin, not really quieting anything in himself.
"Tony, please, you're making me nervous." Bruce fidgeted with his glasses in his hands, unfolding the frames and closing them again, not even chancing a look up at his lab partner, because he knew it would go unnoticed, like all the other warnings did.
Instead, Stark simply paused, a hand coming slowly up to brush at the ends of his beard, then his feet would hesitantly start their slow walk again, the pressure of thoughts building and collecting until he was furiously pacing once more, unsettling Banner even further.
There was the sound of the fan clicking above them, and the slight hum of the Arc Reactor, and the static steps Tony was taking.
The air conditioning kicked on, and there were shouts of orders from outside the door, and the chiming of Stark's forgotten phone kept going off at trained intervals, and there was the tilt and turn of Tony reaching the end of 14 and a ½ steps, and starting 12 more the other way and the room was getting incredibly small, and his movements were radiating a terribly feverish tone, and there were volumes of words in his depth-less eyes and Tony's lips were ghosting words of sentences and it was loud, the walls were too close and-
"Stop!" Bruce yelled, and the other did, jerking timidly from his day dreams or nightmares with wild, questioning eyes as if to ask what was so important that he had to be halted right on the cusp of an important answer. "Either you talk it out or leave, the silent pacing is stirring and confusing." After a slight falter in Tony's steps, a deep breath from Bruce that was supposed to be a calming gesture but came out more like a sour huff. "It's angering." Tony could tell by the way Bruce's fingers tapped methodically on the old wood table that he was counting to ten and exhaling experimentally before taking in another measured breath. But there wasn't the slightest tint of emerald to his cutting eyes, nor the growl of caution that Tony was dancing on the boundaries between good natured and out of control.
"Sorry." The apology was bit off with a rather forgotten anger, as if Tony wasn't really all there as he woke up from his thoughts, turning to Bruce with a learned expression of regret that Pepper had taught him and offered a slightly apologetic frown. "I just have no fucking clue how we're going to fix this." And there was that attitude again, painting over the hurt and the refuse to heal as the engineer rounded back to the bed and grabbed at a flask, unscrewing the top a little hurriedly, sloshing a shot of it past in lips with a sigh.
The other scientist knew what Tony meant, but this was getting them nowhere. Bruce combed his panicked fingers through the few unruly curls that fell on his brow and brushed them back. "It's still developing, we could pull the plug and it would be like it never-"
"No, we couldn't." And for once, Bruce heard in Tony's voice that he meant it. This wasn't about continuing the experiment for the purpose of science, that they'd come this far and had to see what happened next.
No. Oddly, this was one of those rare human moments Tony had, that the option of failure wasn't even on the table, and it sounded broken and strong on his lips.
"Ok." Bruce stood slowly. "Ok, at least we know what we can't do." He heaved a burdened sigh and crossed his arms, softly asking Tony with his eyes just what course of action they were going to take then.
After a tense, almost breathless silence, Tony turned away, almost shyly. "We could keep it. Could, I don't know…." his shoulders shrugged. "Just, pretend like nothing happened, could just be our own little secret." And there was the real Tony, the one underneath all the bravado and money, the one who believed that there were repercussions for actions, and this soft spot was going to be responsibly handled. Tony gave his friend an understanding, half smile. It was returned gently as Bruce came to terms and nodded, sighing deeply again as Tony approached him, shoulders squared, steps determined.
"Then it's settled." Stark's hands came up and warly cupped Banner's cheeks, giving a wry, half smile. "We're going to monitor it and somehow find a way to keep it a secret until we know what to do."
"Keep what secret?" Clint's sudden question startled Bruce, who pulled away from Tony and put a hand to his chest as if he was smoothing the ruffled feathers of the beast inside, Tony whirling around, noticing just how close he was to Dr. Banner, almost as if to shield the good doctor from any threat. Hawkeye raised an eye brow and Stark began to fiddle with Bruce's glasses, which he had snatched from his partner's mess of curls in an attempt to give his hands an occupation before he decked the birdbrain for upsetting Bruce an for listening in like a sneaky crow.
"Cupid! Back from Barcelona early I can see." Tony Stark had instantly slid his mask back on, smile cocky and maliciously arrogant as he circled Barton like a starving vulture, pushing the man back from Bruce.
"Yeah, Coulson pulled me and Tasha back when he found out the army had everything under control-"
"Natasha and I." Bruce corrected the grammar automatically.
"Oh ya, we all know how competent the army is with alien invasions." Tony barked a laugh, lips scowling playfully. "Anyway, doesn't give you reason to be sneaking into rooms."
"Anyway, since we weren't needed we were sent back to headquarters and shipped here, and I wasn't sneaking. More like, making sure you aren't poking t Bruce too much."
"Bruce loves when I poke too much." He answered off handedly.
Clint let Tony steer him close to the door, but raised his eye brow and stood in the doorway, arms locked on the wood, as if to cement him in place. "Ew, I don't want to hear about ya'lls affairs, I'm more interested in this secret."
Bruce bristled, shoulders curling in as he stood and turned, voice wavering as he lightly spoke. "It's nothing, we just-"
"I'm calling BS," he jabbed an accusing finger at the scientist. "It's something, it must be since Stark is acting like I'm invading personal territory."
Tony didn't chance a glance back at Banner, instead, kept his eyes trained on Clint. "Beat it kid, this is grown up stuff." His hands stilled as Clint scoffed, braking eye contact and turned to the hall.
"Whatever you're doing…" he called over his shoulder as he retreated, "Just don't let Fury know. He's already pissed about a few other things. The last thing we need is him storming the Tower because you two are up to no good."
Barton disappeared down the hall, but each step he took echoed harshly, as if he was running away from a terrible mistake. There was no hiding the panic in Brue's eyes, or the awful bite Tony had in their usually playful banter. Whatever this secret was, it wasn't the usual innocent 'oops, we blew up half the floors, might have released glow in the dark mice, don't drink the water for a few days' accident. No, this was something that was tearing apart two of the greatest minds Clint had ever sat down and seen work before. But he was more worried about the fact that both men seemed distant and at odds with the other, as if even their own balance of unstable chemicals was on the verge of a terrible explosion. Or worse, that they were so twisted together that they'd follow the other into whatever half thought out, genius plan that the other conjured up after a few hours of no sleep and caffeine binges.
Clint shook his head and rolled the kinks from his aching shoulders. 'Dear God, that's the last thing we need.'
I would adore some feedback, so leave a comment on what you think. :)
And get ready for the next chapter to unveil the awful? mistake the two of them have made.
You're loyal writer,
Castion-and-Clockwork :)