AN – So I've been wanting to do a Bruce Banner angst fic ever since I saw The Avengers, but couldn't figure out how to do it without it sounding too cheesy or making him too OOC. I was hit with the worst case of writers block until tonight, when I found out that a crap-ton of caffeine and lots of cake make for a lot of fanfic ideas. :D
Warnings: self-harm, Bruce being angsty, and Captain America being very 1940s
Steve Rogers doesn't take the position of Captain of the Avengers Initiative lightly. In fact, some – Tony Stark, for one – would grumble exasperatedly that he takes the job too seriously. "I mean, honestly, Rogers," Tony said, rolling his eyes and taking a giant gulp of Monster energy drink, "you have to lighten up a little – y'know, stop being so…" (he stopped walking to gesture wordlessly up and down Steve's red, white and blue spandex-clad body) "so professional all the time. I mean seriously, it's stressing me out."
Steve halted his fast-paced walk at this, turning to face the blasé engineer, hands on hips. "I take my job seriously, Stark," he said, frowning as Stark just gulped down more energy drink. "And I care enough about the members of the Avengers Initiative to get to know each of them – including you, Mr. Stark – better, in order to maximize performance levels and boost overall efficiency." Steve glared down at him. "Protecting this country is all I care about."
"Yeah, I got that," Stark said dryly, glancing down at Steve's stars and stripes. "But honestly, autobiographies? Seriously? How the hell will autobiographies 'boost overall efficiency'?"
Steve sighed and rubbed his forehead. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Tony and his constant criticism. "I know nothing about you, Tony, besides the fact that you're a genius engineer with a whole lot of money and a flying suit of armor."
"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. I think we've been over this" Tony chirped. Steve ignored him.
"Regardless, the point is that we will work better as a team if we know more about each other. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you work harder to protect people when you care about them." Steve blinked there, memories of machine guns and smoke and remember that time I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?–
Tony snorted and threw his hands into the air, bringing Steve back to the present. "Fine, Rogers, do what you want." Stark turned to look him dead-on, a frantic gleam in his eye. "But if you don't mind, I'd rather not be there to hear Thor's life story. I can only hear so many embarrassing baby-Loki stories in a day before I go insane."
Steve frowned. "Thor is just as much a part of this team–"
"Yeah, okay." Stark cut him off, tossing his Monster can at Steve, who startledly caught it. "Well, I'm off! Lots of science to do, you know how it is." And with that he sauntered off to his lab to play Tetris on his iPad, leaving Steve frustrated and holding an empty Monster can in the middle of the hallway in SHIELD's Avengers base.
Steve sighed, once again rubbing his throbbing forehead with the hand that was not full of empty Monster can. It was moments like these that made Steve feel how out of place he was, with his 1940s mindset. People like Tony nowadays just didn't seem to care about what Steve had been brought up to view as core values.
He shook his head. Standing around moping wasn't going to get anything done. With that classic military determination in his step, Steve walked off to assign the Avengers their homework.
As he walked back down the same hallway two hours later, Steve had to say that, overall, the other teammates had been very understanding. Tony's reaction had been the most difficult; really, besides Agent Romanoff initially bursting into laughter at the proposal and his receiving a few skeptical glances from Agent Barton, both were willing enough to take on the task of writing an autobiography – for the good of the team, as he had reminded them. And Thor had been ecstatic, to say the least, at the prospect of being able to share information about his childhood ("Finally I will be able to share in depth the many quests and trials that befell me prior to my employment in this good Initiative!" being his exact words). All in all, Steve had to say that he was pleased. All that was left was to inform Dr. Banner of his assignment, and he would be free for the day.
As Steve rounded the corner, he had to pause for a moment to remember where exactly Dr. Banner's lab was located. Being more a man of brawn than a man of brain, Steve didn't exactly frequent the science wing of the building. But after a moment he remembered where he was going; he'd been to Banner's lab once before.
After getting lost twice and second-guessing his sense of direction more than once, Steve finally reached the door to a Lab marked "Dr. Banner – Physicist." With a sigh of relief at having finally found the goddamned place, Steve opened the sliding door and stepped inside.
The buzzing and whirring of machines greeted him as he walked in, and he was momentarily distracted from his purpose by the sight of so many computers doing so many things at once. Blinking a few times, Steve turned away from the technology and scanned the room for Dr. Banner. He was about to call out when he heard a loud clatter, as if something plastic had been dropped. Turning, Steve made his way toward the noise, relieved when he heard the sound of someone coughing. "Ah, Dr. Banner," Steve said, finally spotting the Doctor's curly brown hair, "I've been looking for –"
The doctor turned around faster than Steve would have thought possible, a look of complete horror on his face. "Steve!" he gasped. "I didn't – I wasn't. Expecting you. Here." As he spoke, the doctor grabbed a discarded lab coat from the chair next to him and hugged it hastily to his chest. Steve raised an eyebrow. Why was Dr. Banner acting so strangely?
Taking a hesitant step forward and holding his hands up in a soothing gesture, Steve asked, "Dr. Banner, are you feeling alright? You're acting a little… strange."
The doctor laughed – somewhat feverishly, Steve thought – his eyes traveling all over the room, never focusing once on Steve's face. "Oh no, don't worry, I'm fine. Just a little, uh, stressed, with, uh, work and all." He coughed once again – when suddenly his eyes widened in horror, staring at a spot near Steve's feet.
Steve looked down and saw a box cutter lying on the floor. A… bloody box cutter. Steve stared uncomprehendingly at the tool, and then straightened up to look around for what the doctor could possibly be dissecting. But there was no specimen to be seen. Steve looked back at Bruce to ask him what he was working on, but when he looked back at the doctor, he had his head in his hands. Something wasn't right, something was off here, but for the life of him Steve couldn't figure out what it was.
"Dr. Banner," Steve said, "Just what exactly –"
"This isn't what it looks like," Bruce muttered, taking his hands away to stare Steve directly in the face. Steve blinked. Bruce continued, and Steve noticed that the doctor was sweating. "I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong, I'm not –"
"What on earth are you talking about?" Steve exclaimed. "What's going on here?" He had no clue.
This time it was Bruce's time to blink repeatedly. And then, hesitantly: "…You mean, you don't…"
Something on the doctor's lab coat caught Steve's eye. Something red. Steve started. "Dr. Banner, you're bleeding!" he cried, lunging forward.
Bruce jerked back, but not before Steve was able to pull the lab coat away from his arms, exposing the wound. Or rather… wounds.
Neither of them moved, Bruce frozen in terror and Steve staring, just staring at Bruce's arms, box cutter in one hand, bloodied lab coat in the other. And finally, finally, the pieces fell into place.
Steve's voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Dr. Banner, are you – did you – do this – to yourself?"
Bruce just stared back, trying desperately to think of a way out of this mess, finding himself unable to. Way to go, Banner, Bruce thought to himself. Steve didn't notice. He was still staring, unable to take his eyes off of the scientist's mangled skin.
Bruce sighed, grabbing his lab coat back from Steve's suddenly slack grip and sliding it on, disregarding the large red stain on its front. Steve stood, bewildered at what he had just discovered. He'd never heard of anyone doing anything like this to themselves. Something must be very wrong with Dr. Banner, Steve thought. This isn't normal – or healthy – behavior. "Dr. Banner," he stuttered, "I –" I'm so confused.
"Don't worry about it, Steve," Bruce said quietly, taking the box cutter from Steve's hand. Steve watched as Bruce cleaned the blade on a paper towel and clicked it shut, dropping it into a pocket. Steve watched as Bruce wiped down the lab table he'd been sitting at with antiseptic wipes and as he gathered his things into a battered-looking briefcase and snapped it shut. Finally Bruce turned to look at the disorientated Captain with a sad smile on his face.
"I said don't worry about it," he said again, patting Steve on the shoulder. And then he took his briefcase and left.
Steve stared blankly at the door. After a while he collapsed exhaustedly onto one of the stools at the lab table, rubbing his temples wearily and feeling more out-of-place and confused than ever. He sat there until he finally fell asleep at the table.
AN – Feedback is always appreciated! If you liked it, please review~.
I intended this to be a one-shot, but depending on what you guys think, it might turn into a multi-chapter. Opinions?