The One Percent:

Chapter Two – A Nuisance

"Your... your dad did this to you?" Tony murmured, his mouth gaping open. When Bruce had admitted his father had hit him, he'd turned to face him for the first time during their conversation. A few of the other students in the physics class had turned to face them, but Tony didn't think they'd heard what exactly was going on.

"Yeah. It's not a big deal, okay? Just... don't worry about it." Bruce shrugged, turning back to his physics book and jotting down the notes on the board.

"How can I not worry about it? You've just admitted that your own dad is beating you up every night, how can I jus-"

"It's not every night, Tony. It's when he's drunk."

"...So every night then." Tony grunted, and Bruce looked at him sternly.

"See this is why I never told you. You're my best friend and I trust you with everything but... you really don't need to worry about this. This is my business – my burden to bear. You don't need to worry." He said firmly, before turning back to his work. Tony looked at Bruce for a moment before turning back to his own book and checking over his perfectly answered questions. They sat in silence for a few minutes; the only sound was a sharp intake of breath from Tony when he clutched at his chest. After a moment, the teacher turned around to go through the answers – and both of them got all the questions right. When she set them off on another set of questions, Tony leaned into Bruce again.

"Come to my party. I know you can't because you're... doing something, or whatever, but if it gets you out of the house; it can't be that bad, right? ... You need to get away from him, Brucey, even if it's only for a little bit. You can stay the night if you want. Please." Bruce stayed silent for a few moments before looking over at Tony.

"Tony... It's your 17th birthday. You don't want to spend the entire day with me. It's just because you feel sorry for me. I don't need your pity."

"Pity? Bruce, I'm infamous for being cold-hearted. I don't feel sympathy for anyone." Tony deadpanned, although there was a smile on his face, and he nudged into Bruce's side gently. "Come on. Say you'll think about it."

Another long pause.

"I'll think about it." Bruce nodded, nudging Tony back with a shy smile, and quickly wincing when it hurt his split lip. "But don't bet on it. Like I said, I'm going out tomorrow night."

"Oooh. Got a date?" Tony winked.

"Yeah, 'cause I'd totally be going out looking like this." He gestured to his face.

"Well I dunno. Still look sexy as fuck to me."

"Yeah well, you'd screw anything with a pulse. Or without, if you were desperate."

"... I'm not sure whether to be offended that you think so lowly of me, or flattered that you know me so well." Tony smirked.

"You're unbelievable."

The next day was the night of Tony's party. Bruce hadn't gone straight away – he had to see his counselor – but he'd told himself that if he got out of there relatively early, he might stop by. He never liked the room. His counselor, Maria Hill, was a lovely lady but the room just made Bruce feel uncomfortable. Four plain white walls, a white armchair and a white sofa for him to lie on. Bruce was used to plain surroundings, but every time he spoke to his counselor he felt like he was in a winter wonderland. He knew it was all for professional purposes, but in a place where he was supposed to be made to feel at home, he just felt like he was being watched – which in theory, he was.

The appointment flew by, and before Bruce knew it, they'd finished at only half eight. Maria had asked a lot about the bruises, but Bruce just played up to his 'anger issues' and told her that he'd gotten into a fight over something stupid. She believed it, or at least she seemed to, but Maria seemed to know everything without having to be told – Bruce often wondered if she was related to Natasha. They'd agreed that because Bruce's condition was improving, they'd only have to meet once a fortnight now, and thanking her, he left.

Bruce cycled home to find his Dad passed out on the couch in the living room, so he tiptoed upstairs to get changed into a dark pair of jeans, a dark green t-shirt and a purple pullover. Grabbing a backpack full of clean clothes for the next day and Tony's present, he set back off on his bike and into the night, as hard as it was to ride with a gift under his arm. He arrived at the party by half nine (it was quite the trek from the counselor's office), and instantly regretted coming. He could hear the beat of the music from all the way down the street, and it got louder and louder as he rode towards it. It wasn't even Tony's usual AC/DC or Black Sabbath or Led Zeppelin or any other classic rock – it was hip-hop. Bruce could see blaring lights from the windows of the house, so Tony had obviously turned his house into a rave again. He sighed as he slid off his bike, wheeling it over to the spot beside the garage where he usually chained it up, and taking his helmet off, shaking his brown curls out like a dog.

He took a deep breath and opened the front door, to see at least forty people in the cramped hallway, all dancing and grinding to the beat with glasses of god knows what in their hands. Bruce sighed to himself and tried to manoeuvre his way through the crowd, ignoring the sweaty hands that were all over him as he made his way into the front room. But when he got there he wished he hadn't bothered.

Tony's living room was obviously the couples retreat. Anyone who'd paired up, had scampered off to that room to make out, and Bruce was pretty sure that the image of at least 12 different couples kissing furiously in the same room was burned into his head. He was pretty sure that he could see Clint and Natasha in the corner, and Thor was right at the back of the room with some dark haired girl, but he couldn't see her face. Bruce didn't wanna spend any longer in the room, so he quickly shuffled back out into the crowded hallway with a sigh. Where was Tony?

He headed towards the kitchen, and found Steve leaning against the fridge surrounded by at least five drunk girls with their hands all over him – and the football captain had never looked more out of place. He waved awkwardly to Bruce when he spotted him, but his face was flushed and the girls were still closing in on him. Bruce grabbed himself a cup and looked at the alcohol free punch, but quickly realised the likelihood of there actually being no alcohol in there and headed to the fridge to get some fresh juice. He walked back out into the hallway and moved up the stairs, trying to juggle the juice cup and Tony's present as he clambered up the stairs and through the sweaty crowd of dancing teenagers.

He found his way up to Tony's bedroom, but paused at the door. God knows what would be happening in there - and it might not even be Tony. Bruce decided he'd check the bedrooms last, just in case. He moved to the bathroom and put his hand on the door handle, but quickly moved away when he heard the sound of someone throwing up. He didn't need to see that. He found the study, and after a moment's hesitation, worrying that Tony's dad might be in there – he remembered that there were no cars on the driveway, so his parents were out. He went inside and it was just like the hallway, full of dancing people, but none of them were Tony. Bruce sighed to himself before walking back over to Tony's bedroom, when he remembered there was one place he'd forgotten to look. He drained his juice cup and flung it in the nearest bin, before bolting back down the stairs and opening the cupboard underneath the winding staircase. He made sure no-one was following him before he headed down to Tony's lab-workshop, and quickly found Tony stumbling around with a bottle in his hand.

"Bruuceeey!" Tony slurred when he noticed the teen behind him, walking over and pulling him into an uncoordinated hug, patting his back. "You came after all! Aw, you're brilliant, y'know?"

"You've told me many a time." Bruce smiled, putting the present down on Tony's desk, and shifting his backpack off and on to the floor. "What are you doing down here? Hiding from your own party guests?"

"Well, I wanted to come do drunk science but then I realized that no-one knew how to science except you, so I came to do it by myself."

"That's not really a good idea. What if stuff goes wrong and no-one even knows you're down here? You could set the place on fire, Tony. Wouldn't be the first time." He warned.

"Well, yeah but... Shut up, Bruce. Let go! Have a little fun for once. You want some vodka? Nat brought this with her – it's better than the expensive crap we buy." Tony beamed, holding out the half empty bottle for Bruce, but he could barely keep his balance. Bruce took the bottle and set it down on the desk.

"I think you've had a little too much, Tony. Come on. At least you're gonna be safe with me now."

"Not necessarily."

"What do you mean?"

"How do I know you won't take advantage of me?" Tony purred, shuffling closer to Bruce and leaning into him.

"I'll try and control myself."

"Aw but you're always keeping control of yourself... I think just once, you should just do what you want."

"Tony... Behave." Bruce said sternly as Tony looped an arm around his waist, batting it away. "You're drunk, and I'm here to look after you. Not... whatever you've got in mind."

"Aren't you sleeping over tonight though? I told you that you could."

"Yeah, I am. But don't get any ideas. I'm just gonna make sure you don't get alcohol poisoning, and then I'm going to cook you up a nice hangover cure in the morning."

"Does making me breakfast count as a date, Banner? Because sleeping in my bed before a date is looked down on – it's not good etiquette." Tony smirked, leaning into Bruce again. Bruce pulled out a stool and helped Tony on to it, before pulling one out for himself.

"Breakfast is not a date. Just because your idea of a date is cheap, doesn't mean mine is."

"Then let me take you out."

"What?"

"... Let me take you out on a date. Ever tried shawarma?"

"Tony, don't be an ass. Shawarma isn't a good date food anyway-... Can we stop talking about dates? We're not going on a date." Bruce frowned, although his cheeks were a little flushed. "Besides, I'm not sleeping in your bed tonight either – I'll be taking the camp-bed like I usually do."

"Ah, see there's the problem. I didn't know if you were coming or not, so I didn't set the bed up, and by the time everyone goes I'll be too drunk to get it out..."

"...Well I'll go get it then. I know where it is, I can set it u-"

"No, no... No need. You can stay in my bed. It's a double, you might as well. I don't bite, Banner." Tony smiled, sliding off his stool and strolling over to Bruce, standing between his legs. Bruce's face flushed again.

"Tony, get back on your chair."

"Make me." Bruce let out a sigh.

"You're a nuisance."

"You love it."

"... You could probably be on your death bed and still be flirting with me, huh?"

"Oh this isn't flirting, Banner. I've told you, you haven't seen my moves yet." Tony corrected, still stood between Bruce's legs.

"And hopefully, I'll never have to see them. Now get away." Bruce smirked, moving his foot to Tony's chest and gently pushing him away. Tony winced in pain and clutched at his chest but Bruce shrugged it off – he was probably being overdramatic. Bruce was interrupted by Pepper banging on the door of the lab. "Uh... Come in?"

"Bruce... Bruce, Tony... Holy shit. Uh... Tony's dad's come back and he's throwing everyone out." Pepper babbled, looking at Bruce instead of Tony – whether she knew Bruce was the only responsible one, or whether things were sour between her and Tony was anyone's guess.

"Crap. Okay uh... We'll be right up. Just make sure everyone gets out safely okay?" Bruce nodded, before turning back to Tony, who had wormed his way back in-between his legs, much to Pepper's dismay. "Tony, come on... Your dad's back. We've gotta go upstairs. Come on." He murmured, leaping off his chair and grabbing his backpack before heading towards the exit. Tony stayed by the chair so Bruce rolled his eyes, walking over and grabbing the boy's hand before pulling him up the staircase towards the busy hallway of dancing teenagers. He opened the door to find the place was practically empty – a few kids were still leaving but other than that, Tony's dad had obviously thrown everyone out. Bruce sighed to himself before pulling Tony, who by now was completely out of it, up the stairs and towards his own room. He put his hand on the doorknob but he couldn't turn it. "Tony, your room's locked from the inside. Is someone still in there?"

"Nope. Just didn't want anyone going in my room. JARVIS?" Tony asked towards the ceiling, his words still slurred. Bruce heard the click of the door unlocking, and raised an eyebrow as he opened the door to a perfectly pristine room with no mess whatsoever.

"Right. Bed. It's half eleven, Tony."

"Aw, Brucey... that's early!"

"I know. But if you sleep now, you'll feel better in the morning. Trust me. Now get your clothes off and put some pajamas on." Bruce ordered before whipping the backpack off his shoulders and rooting around for his own PJs.

"Knew you just wanted me to get naked." Tony smirked. "Actually, I think I might be too drunk, and you might have to strip my clothes off for me." Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"You're not funny. Now get changed." He murmured as he quickly stripped his jeans off and pulled on a pair of shorts, taking off the cardigan and t-shirt and replacing it with a dark grey shirt. Tony was sitting on his bed, still looking at Bruce with dark eyes as he watched him change, but he was brought back to his senses when he saw the number of bruises and scars on Bruce's torso.

"Bruce... your back..." He murmured incoherently.

"Yeah, I know. It's fine. Come on, hop to it. Get changed." Bruce smiled shyly, trying not to think about what Tony had just seen, and moving to sit on Tony's bed. Tony hobbled around the room, taking items of clothing off – he had obviously tried to make it sexy by keeping eye contact with Bruce and removing his clothes slowly, but the way he was staggering around made it about as arousing as a newborn foal. Bruce just chuckled to himself and then averted his eyes, and before he knew it, Tony had flopped down on to the bed beside him in a black wife-beater and a pair of very tight boxers. Bruce tried to avert his eyes again but he wasn't so successful – he just hoped that Tony was too drunk to notice.

"Knew you'd like what you see." Tony smirked as he got in the covers and turned his bedside light off, nestling down.

"Shut up, dick." Bruce defended himself, although the grin was still on his face as he mirrored Tony's actions, snuggling into the pillows and turning his own light off. "Happy Birthday, Tony." He murmured softly, but he got no response – Tony was already out cold.

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