disclaimer: I own nothing, yadda yadda.
A/N - thanks again to all who read this, I am eternally grateful and still figuring out my voice in all this and where it's all headed (although I have a fairly good idea). The one thing I'm struggling with at the moment is pacing and if you could let me know what you think of it, are things moving too slowly or just right, it would be really helpful! I feel like this one's a bit of a slow burner, I just don't want it to burn itself out before anything actually happens! Please please, read, review, and enjoy!
Y.A.
They stayed all night.
After Steve had been ordered to take a shower by Natasha ('Captain, with all due respect, you stink.') and Clint had returned from whatever ledge he had been perched on, Tony grabbed them beers and they took up their places in Bruce's room. They played board games to pass the time as they usually did when they were all together, a stab at normality when the situation was anything but, and frequently they glanced over at Bruce, concern furrowing brows and fondness softening eyes.
It wasn't a vigil. Vigils are for the dying and Bruce certainly wasn't dying. It was more a guard, like the Knights Templar Tony joked softly. So was Bruce Banner the Holy Grail, Clint ventured, a thought which kicked off one of the more philosophical, if redundant, conversations of the night, especially as Tony complicated the whole matter by insisting that, in fact, he was the Holy Grail of the group.
'Because, guys, just look at me!'
They all did, equally unimpressed.
That was their night. Beers, banter and board games, which slowly turned into coffee and cat-naps as the sun began to rise over New York City. Not once did they discuss Thor's absence, which felt like a dam waiting to be filled, nor did they speculate on Banner's words and neither Tony nor Clint felt the need to bring up the conversation they'd had prior to Bruce's reappearance. It just wasn't the right time for any of that. The right time would come when Bruce was awake and whole again and they could properly sort through their problems. And god, did they have a lot of problems.
This was how Bruce found them when he finally woke the next morning –
Cap sound asleep on an armchair, arms and legs spilling out over the sides, head back mouth wide open, drooling. Clint and Natasha side by side as usual, both dozing but she with her legs laid across him and he with his arms draped over them protectively. Banner's eyes took in a table set up between them all which bore the remnants of their night, beer bottles strewn across the surface amidst what appeared to be evidence of a particularly hard fought game of Risk, and Tony closest to him, asleep with his legs propped up on his bed.
Not exactly the scene he had been expecting but he could roll with it. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting really, but he was glad for them in that moment and glad to be home. Home. When Stark Tower had become home for them all he wasn't quite sure, but it was an unspoken and unacknowledged truth that it was.
He groaned inwardly as a wave of fatigue washed over him, putting lead in his limbs and settling decisively as a throbbing ache in his head and was honestly relieved when the darkness claimed him again.
He started to return to consciousness later that day, a vague feeling of a weight being lifted and a curtain drawn. He could hear voices hovering somewhere near him and could pick out certain voices. Steve, Tony, Natasha, then Tony, Clint, Tony again. Tony. Tony. Tony.
'Do you think we should wake him up soon? I mean, we don't want to completely ruin his sleeping patterns.' That was Steve, ever the practical man.
'God Captain Underpants can't you just let a man sleep a little? You've obviously never had to sleep off a really bad night have you?'
'Stop whining Tony, it doesn't look good on you.' He could hear the roll of Natasha's eyes.
'Everything looks good on me.'
'Lycra doesn't. We've all seen the photos of when you tried on Cap's suit and it wasn't pretty.' Clint drawled and Bruce could hear him twanging a freshly strung bow. This he snorted at, he definitely remembered the photos, a sight burned into his retinas. Pretty it was not.
'Guys, I think he's waking up!' Tony's voice was louder and very close to Bruce's ear. Alarmingly close. He risked cracking open one eye to assess Stark's proximity to his own face. As it turned out, there was a space of about 2 centimetres between his face and Stark's. Joyous. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as though trying to will Tony a way.
'Hey, hey Bruce. Bruuuuuce. Brucie Brucie Bruce Bruce.' Tony sang to him. No such luck then.
'You know,' he coughed against a dry throat, 'Being this close to you is making me a feel a little green. And I know the other guy could do with a little…walk.' He opened his eyes again and was relieved to find that Tony had moved a little farther away from him, a look of horror on his face.
'You wouldn't intentionally set the Hulk on me! We're bros! Science bros! Nothing can break that bond!'
'An arrow through your head might,' Clint snarked from the corner of the room.
'Can it Katniss.' Even before he could finish speaking an arrow had rushed past him, disconcertingly close to his eyeball. He gulped. Natasha cocked an eyebrow at him, with that small movement her meaning was clear: I did warn you.
'Urgh, Tony you're killing me here…' Bruce managed to sneak in before the real bickering started and they all turned towards his bed as they remembered why they were all really there.
'Sorry', Steve smiled apologetically, and even Tony managed to scuff his toes and shut up in a show of remorse. 'Come on, let's leave him to get up and get dressed. I know we all have things to do before…we catch up.'
Thus, with the orders from their leader imparted, they all trooped out of Bruce's room, leaving Bruce to attempt to piece back together the events that had brought him home.
Eventually they all found their way to the kitchen, which was the nucleus of all of their activity. One by one they drifted in until they were all sat around the large table, various food and drink in hand. When Bruce stepped into the room, hair still wet from the shower but looking and feeling significantly more alive than earlier, they ceased whatever argument they were having (pancakes vs waffles, as it happened) and looked at him with expectant eyes.
Out of nowhere Tony placed a cup of coffee in his hand and steered him to an empty seat at the table. Bruce scanned the rest of the room as he sat because he had finally worked out what had been missing earlier.
'Where's Thor? He not here yet?' he sipped the coffee and damn was it good, but then it was Tony Stark and Tony Stark only had the best. Tony Stark had often told Bruce this himself.
'Uhh..not here yet. But he will be.' Steve said firmly.
'Soon.' Tony interjected.
'Yes, soon, thank you Tony.'
'No problemo, el capitan!' Tony took a gulp of his Scotch – Bruce wondered fleetingly how much more drinking his friend had been doing recently – before he suddenly became very serious. The mood in the entire room seemed to change and it even appeared darker, as though JARVIS was controlling the light filters on the windows in tune with Tony's moods.
'Bruce…you said something when you came back, just before you collapsed. Something about shadows. You said….'it's coming'. What are the shadows? What are you talking about? What's coming?'
Four pairs of eyes burned into him, questioning, confused, nervous. He took a deep breath to steady himself. His story wasn't going to be an easy one to tell or for them to hear. He himself didn't understand most of it or what it meant.
'Well,' he started hesitantly, feeling like the kid at camp sitting with a torch under his chin ready to top all other stories with the most terrifying tale of them all. 'It started in Kazakhstan…'
