Normal and the Paranormal by ELLE
Pairings/Warnings: Bruce/Tony, background Clint/Natasha, Thor/Jane, Steve/Peggy, modern day paranormal AU, slow build, mild angst, explicit language, explicit sexual situations, marijuana use, minor original character death, graphic depictions of violence, mention of a past suicide attempt
Notes: I took the name "Green Mountain" from a real place however the place described here is a fictional amalgamation of many places I have been up and down the eastern United States. As always I'd like to thank my gf for listening to me bitch about this monstrosity as I worked and offering helpful suggestions and encouragement along the way. 3 It has been a grueling process figuring out a new workflow for my writing and this isn't the best work I've ever done by a long shot but I'm incredibly proud of myself for seeing it through.
Steve's office was just what you would expect: textbook. The little desk was a pleasant mess – an aging cup of coffee perfectly placed in the circular stains embedded in a rubber Smokey the Bear coaster, a handful of sticky notes with little bits of information taped to the side of an ancient CRT computer monitor, folders open with papers placed directly over the desk calendar that had a little black and white picture and a blurb about a different national park every month. A long plastic bookshelf sat to the side containing a series of physical manuals printed out before the turn of the century and placed in boring brown binders that didn't look like anything you'd find at Office Max these days detailing any disaster that could befall a park – not that you'd have the time to reference one in the event of the apocalypse. There was a coat rack with his jacket, crowned with a very cowboy-esque hat he knew Peggy got him for Christmas one year that he was ridiculously proud of, as well as a few drawings made by his kids that were completely beyond Bruce's ability to decipher pinned to the wall.
It was cozy, he guessed, the chair he was sitting in with its cracked green pleather wasn't even particularly uncomfortable it was just – he hated Steve's office. There was a reason he was a park host and it because he did exceptionally poorly with people and well – offices.
He could hear Steve finishing up a farewell to the woman who was from out of state inquiring about where she could pick up supplies. It was the 'busy' time of year, those insufferably hot days at the end of July headed into August when people were irrational and stupid and for some reason thought to themselves "wouldn't it be a great idea to go camping and spend a week smushed into a hot tent with people we can barely stand for an hour at dinner?" Bruce hated the busy time of year. But Steve often helped out at the front desk, talking to tourists during these times, making things easier for Nat and the other girls where he could.
The bell on the door rang as the lady left and Bruce looked back down at his hands, fisting one in the other and failing to crack his knuckles while pretending he hadn't been impatiently looking over his shoulder and waiting for Steve to come back. He had absolutely no idea why Steve called him up and he just wanted to get this over with and get back to his trailer to do his rounds.
"Bruce!" Steve boomed as he entered, immediately seeming to fill the entire fifteen by ten foot space with his presence. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"It's fine," Bruce replied automatically, scratching at his jawline, trying not to be nervous.
Steve however took his time, sitting down and taking a swig at his coffee, face immediately betraying that he had forgotten it had been sitting there for the better part of the day... but he managed to swallow it anyway.
He glanced at the papers on his desk. Shuffled through them. Glanced up at the computer screen. Closed and then reopened one of the folders before closing it again. Finally, he looked up at Bruce.
"So have you seen whether campsite 45 has been occupied yet?"
Bruce stared blankly at him, not really expecting that. "I – was going to do my rounds after this meeting. I can check for you?"
Steve waved the offer away with one big hand. "No, no, that won't be necessary. The thing is – his name is Tony Stark and he's going to be here for at least a month, god forbid longer."
Bruce's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Steve had never called him into the office to talk about a camper before – even the destitute ones who stayed for several months.
"I guess you haven't heard of him?" Steve asked, face falling, as if the very idea of having to have this conversation made him sick. "Tony Stark – paranormal investigator... or whatever these crocks call themselves nowadays."
Steve gestured to the computer monitor and Bruce leaned way over his desk to get a glance at a website with the name "Tony Stark" emblazoned in huge stylish font across the top and a picture of what Bruce assumed was Tony himself done up in a stupid trendy vest and tie number with ridiculous facial hair next to some boilerplate text about hunting... ghosts? The inner urge to roll his eyes was difficult to suppress.
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly," Steve commiserated as Bruce sat back in his chair again. "We've unfortunately caught some flak with the whackos after, well, you know – and now these people think there's some 'Green Mountain Monster' lurking around or – well, you've seen the tabloids."
Truth be told, Bruce hadn't. He deliberately avoided tabloids and rumors. But he heard what the other rangers and the girls at the desk were saying and sometimes campers flat out asked him about it, though he denied having ever heard anything other than the official investigation on the body that was found nearly two years ago in the wilderness reserve – though of course that was a lie.
"The thing is, I don't want this joker poking around filming stuff and getting himself hurt," Steve continued. "Or worse – getting the other campers upset or enticing them to go nosing around themselves. It's bad enough someone found a dead body out there, no matter how old it was. God forbid they'd find another."
Bruce was nodding his head along and looked up when Steve stopped talking to see just how serious he was. Steve had his fair share of stress since they'd uncovered that body, visions of his park being shut down completely causing him to spend long hours and a not insignificant amount of money on a brand new PR campaign. And Bruce felt more than guilty for that. He definitely owed Steve one, whether Steve knew it or not.
"Okay – so keep an eye on Tony Stark, got it," Bruce accepted without complaint and Steve smiled.
"I know I can count on you," he said, no small amount of guilt trip in those words but then Bruce had been here almost as long as Steve had and they both knew it was true.
Bruce felt it was safe to stand and so he did, stepping towards the door. But then he looked back over his shoulder a moment, regaining Steve's attention.
"I'll let you know if he starts getting out of hand."
Steve offered him that wink-smile-and-nod combo that had all the desk girls swooning but Bruce was glad to be walking out the door.
He threw a short wave at Nat at the desk and he thought she missed it behind the line of people checking in but her eyes darted to him for a moment and the edge of her mouth twitched up in acknowledgment. Nat had only become a permanent member of the team a year or so ago but she had quickly earned everyone's respect when she overhauled the check-in process. However Bruce liked her because she was just as concerned with her privacy as he was of his.
The day was hot and the sky was bright blue, no clouds at the Green Mountain Wilderness Reserve. It wasn't Bruce's favorite time of year – the heat could be oppressive, especially in a tiny trailer – but he loved the way it gave in to fall and cold nights and the smell of wood smoke. He pulled off the brown button down regulation park uniform shirt he really only wore when he went to the office and threw it in the passenger side of his beat up green Jeep, white undershirt already feeling damp.
It was a bit of a haul back to his trailer, actually, and he glared at the gas gauge for it's need to be refueled soon. The park was tucked up between a lake and a few hundred acre wilderness reserve, through the foothills of the mountains. Bruce noted the signs marking the beginning of a couple different trails to his left, as he always did, driving slowly for the magnitude of pedestrians and bicyclers this time of year. He had been through all the trails at one time or another – and far off the path into the protected areas of the reserve where guests were only supposed to wander 'at their own risk.'
There was several boat docking areas to his right and eventually he came up on the large cabin-style lodges that were available for parties and weddings and what not. There was a pavilion past them and several covered shelters, picnic areas, a massive playground for kids, and then beyond that a beach into the lake. Generally Bruce did everything he could to avoid this area with it's paddle boats and swarms of children and harried adults. After the lodges was an RV campsite with hook-ups that was managed by Bucky, who he passed on the way in with a two fingered wave off the steering wheel.
A little further down from there were the campsites, Bruce's 'home.' His little trailer was at the front with a sign mounted on a wooden pole proclaiming 'host' so people knew where to find him. Instead of turning into the lot, he decided to go do his rounds a few minutes early and check out campsite 45.
Each site was marked with a wooden pole with a number burnt into it and consisted of a large flat spot for putting up a tent and a parking area for a car, two tops. Every few sites there was a water spigot that had to be checked for excessive leakage and then there were three different bathroom areas he had to inspect and clean every morning, afternoon, and night. Bruce slowed down even further as he rolled through the campsites, hawkeyed and knowing what was unusual after five years on the job.
It was the general mishmash of families and barely legal adults arguing, listening to music, drinking beer, trying and usually struggling to set up tents. He stopped to warn a family to keep their kids out of the road as much as humanly possible and again to tell a group of guys to keep their music down after dusk but when he pulled around to site 45, Bruce was somewhat surprised by how normal it looked.
For a minute, Bruce wondered if maybe Steve had the site number wrong. There was a pretty typical four person red Coleman set up on the tent site and an older model Scion xB parked on the lot. He could tell there was some serious equipment stashed in the back because the back door was open and Tony Stark was digging through it for... something.
At this point in his tenure Bruce didn't really get nervous approaching people on the park premises. But then he had never approached anyone like this before. Especially not someone who was specifically looking to expose him to the world.
Tony must've heard him pull up because he looked over his shoulder at the Jeep with it's staff stickers pasted on the sides and smiled. Bruce figured it was supposed to be friendly but all he felt was guarded.
"Hey boss," he greeted as he walked over, chewing a huge wad of gum and immediately aggravating the shit out of Bruce as he hated pet names. "What's up?"
"Look, I know who you are and I know what you're trying to do," Bruce started and Tony just grinned in a way that looked entirely too sarcastic in Bruce's opinion. "I don't know what you think you're going to find out here or if you even really believe this shit, but just leave the other campers alone and try to be safe, okay?"
Tony glanced at the ground, still smiling, shaking his head in disbelief. He really looked a lot less ridiculous in jeans and a faded AC/DC t-shirt than he did in his picture online, but unfortunately that image was branded into Bruce's mind and all he could see was a cocky little shit.
"You know there's really no law against it," he said as he looked back up, clearly amused, chewing on that gum with his absurd goatee and grin. "Not much you can do to stop me."
"If you're being sufficiently disruptive you will be required to leave," Bruce threatened, about as effective as an elementary school line leader – and Tony knew it.
"Your word is law, boss," Tony agreed with a smirk and a shitty two finger salute. "I'll be sure to direct any and all questions I might have to you, first."
Bruce didn't say anything but he suppressed the urge by tightening his mouth. He could tell just by the look on Tony's face that he knew exactly what he was doing. But what was he going to say? Steve had asked him to keep an eye on Tony and frankly? Having Tony go through him first was the best way to accomplish that.
"Be sure that you do," Bruce warned, playing into his game without much choice.
Tony waved the tips of his fingers at him in a highly sarcastic way as he drove off, watching his smug smile in the rear view mirror for a moment – pissed. He hadn't really expected Tony to tuck his tail between his legs and run – hell, Bruce knew he wasn't that intimidating. But after that pathetic exchange it felt a lot like Tony Stark, Paranormal Investigator: 1 and Bruce Banner, Resident Monster: 0.