Bruce unbuttoned his cuffs, eying the touch-screen keypad beside the door as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. He enjoyed the occasional puzzle- a sudoku or crossword to get his mind rolling- but even the most advanced puzzle typically came with hints. He asked himself what he already knew, or rather, what Tony knew he knew as he removed his glasses from his front pocket and committed them to his face. He leaned in and chose a random string of numbers with the pad of his middle finger.
It was rejected immediately of course, but it gave him the info that the code he was looking for was six digits long.
Bruce hummed, folding his arms. He tried to recall if there was any particular piece of their algorithm that would make sense here, but nothing really stood out. Maybe it was a date… month, day, year? He tried the day they met as well as the day he left with no success, the panel flashing a red capitalized 'DENIED' at him. What else? Was there any possibility Tony would've used something he'd said during their talk on the phone?
The phone. Numbers corresponded to letters on each button. Bruce snapped his fingers a few times out in front of him, making the motion as if he were attempting to kindle a fire in his head. What would Tony spell out that was six letters long?
Not six letters long, he realized. Two words that were three letters long.
Bruce keyed in 244-489 (BIG-GUY) and felt a pleased grin overtake his features when a green 'GRANTED' lit up and the door unlatched. He grabbed the handle and let himself in.
Now on the other side of the soundproof glass, his ears were filled with the cacophony of metal on metal… being hammered, rivetted, drilled through and medley of other things Bruce couldn't discern from the echos. Though the layout of the lab was unknown to him and dozens of projects in states of semi-completion were scattered willy-nilly creating labyrinthian pathways, he managed to follow the noise to its current source. Doing so led him right to Tony, who was currently hunched over the guts of one of his suits, yanking out parts he clearly wasn't very happy with. The engineer was oblivious to his presence at the moment. Bruce crossed his arms and leaned back into one of the work desks, taking the opportunity to quietly observe from afar. A few sparks flew and Tony spat out a curse as he yanked back his right hand. He put the injured finger to his mouth and reached into his toolbox with his other hand, scrounging impatiently for what he needed next; a few things clattered to the ground.
The physicist frowned, registering another sound at the peripheral of his hearing range. It sounded like a bumping… scratching noise. His eyes searched around for it and spotted a vintage record player- a gramophone, to be precise, from the large bell angled to fill the room with music. The corners of his lips quirked; how quaint. He didn't know the innovator had an interest in old technology as well as new. The device was still on, turning the vinyl record round and round, but the needle had reached the end of the grooves and fallen off, creating the bumping he'd been hearing.
Bruce walked over to it and flicked it off, removing the phonograph record from the pin to study the label in the center. AC/DC. Of course. "Hey, you want me to flip this to the other side, or…?" he left the question open.
Tony dropped about three other tools to the ground. "Bruce! Ohmygod. You're here!" he exclaimed, abandoning his work to hurry over to him. He stopped about three feet away, glancing down at the vinyl record he was holding carefully by the edges; the engineer gave a sheepish laugh, "I didn't even hear it stop. I was kind of… emersed," he gestured emptily at the room. He reached out and nabbed the protective paper sleeve from the nearby rack, pushing on the top and bottom just enough to get it to flare open; Bruce slid the record into it.
Tony re-racked the disc and looked at him with big brown eyes. They were ringed with red and bloodshot like he'd been up since the day before, but they were what Bruce would categorize as 'puppy-eyes' nonetheless. "But you're really here? I'm not dreaming?" he went on.
Bruce chuckled. "No, you're not dreaming, Tony. You'd have to be asleep to be dreaming," he pointed out. Though he could understand the other scientist's uncertainty- it wouldn't be too far-fetched to conclude he'd passed out from physical exhaustion at the work bench or wherever. He'd probably done so in the past when his body simply refused to go on any longer.
"Guess you're right about that one," Tony took it back, hooking his toes on a nearby stool and pulling it to him, the rubber feet of the chair scraping along the concrete floor. "And I haven't been doing much of that," he added as he plopped down on the round black leather cushion. He gestured at the physicist. "Find a seat. Seriously, anywhere's free game if there's not crap on it."
Bruce didn't bother searching. "I'm fine standing," he said as he once again leaned his rear end against a work desk. Instead he studied the man across from him. From the state of his gel-stiffened locks and facial hair, Bruce could tell Tony had taken at least part of his advice from a couple of days ago and showered and shaved, so there was that. But a lot about him didn't look as healthy as Bruce remembered last time they'd been face-to-face in New York… his skin had developed a pallor that contrasted sharply with the black tank currently thrown over his top half (it was also inside-out, the doctor noticed) and he'd been neglecting meals if the slight hollow to his cheeks and thinner frame was any indicator.
Tony didn't take note of his scrutinizing gaze, in fact it looked like he was on the verge of asking a million questions all at once. If his mouth was capable of vocalizing them all simultaneously, Bruce had no doubt he would've; instead he had to settle for one at a time. "So you made it in. To the lab, I mean," Tony clarified, a mischievous little grin on his features. "How long did that take?"
His smile was infectious. "Not too long," Bruce answered.
"Of course not," Tony waved him off as if he'd expected no less. "I wanted you to be able to get in after all. If I didn't, believe me, you'd still be out there." His own words seemed to stop him in his tracks; he blinked twice. "Shit, I didn't leave you stranded at the airport, did I? Did you have to take a taxi?" His voice turned rapidly apologetic, "I meant to come… really. I just got so involved and I completely lost track of time-"
"Oh, no no," Bruce interrupted before he could get too far, "Pepper came and got me. I didn't have to wait at all."
"Thank God," the engineer let out a loud sigh, deflating back into his chair with relief. "I tell you, she's a real lifesaver," the man said with an effervescent smile. "I don't know what I'd do without her."
Bruce considered that sentiment to himself privately. Tony seemed rather oblivious to the pain and worry he had been causing the woman as of late, as if all his late nights and isolation weren't having a negative effect on their relationship. As important as the company and their joint careers were to the both of them, it was still necessary to cultivate moments together to keep their relationship strong and healthy- Bruce had learned that back when he was dating Betty long ago. Tony hadn't been keeping up his side of the bargain.
"So then… what time is it, anyway?" the engineer asked, jarring Bruce out of his thoughts. Down in the lab it was impossible to tell whether it was even day or night, since it was underground and lit entirely by fluorescents.
Bruce checked his watch. "Eleven-ten." When Tony continued to look at him expectantly, he added, "AM." How long had he been down here? Bruce wondered.
"Perfect!" Tony bounced up from his stool. "You hungry? We can go grab a bite to eat." He hooked his thumb to the north, "There's this awesome fish and chips place down the highway just a couple of miles. Afterwards we can hang out at the beach, catch a few rays."
The suggestion brought warmth to his chest, spreading to his face. Of course it was his professional opinion what the innovator needed most was more rest, but Bruce recognized how much luck he'd have in convincing Tony to lie down. Especially now that he'd just gotten here. "Yeah, all of that sounds enjoyable," he accepted the offer. It would do his friend a lot of good to get out of the laboratory for a few solid hours, and his skin would get some Vitamin D that he desperately needed. It might not be rest for his body, but it would be rest for his mind, and that was just as important. Bruce considered asking if they should invite Pepper along as well, but she had indicated she had things to do that afternoon, and it was probably better if Bruce tackled one problem at a time.
"You bring trunks?" the billionaire asked then.
Bruce laughed at the absurdity of the notion that he even owned a pair to bring. "No, I didn't."
Tony tsk'd. "That's alright, I'll let you borrow a pair of mine."
Tony gave him more than just a pair of swimtrunks.
In fact the Malibu-ite had transformed him into the spitting image of a local resident… thong sandals, a woody-wagon-and-surfboard print Aloha shirt, and a pair of shades. He would've felt silly and gimicky… if it weren't for the fact that the fully-grown, middle-aged man behind the wheel of the convertible mustang was sporting exactly the same ensemble.
The salty air licked his curls as they sped along down Highway 1 in fourth gear at forty-three miles an hour. It was a good cruising speed- got them where they were going while simultaneously providing a nice view of the scenery; Tony was having a splendid time pointing out all the landmarks to him as they zoomed past. Of course Bruce had been to a lot of destinations and seen his share of tropical landscapes. It wasn't anything remarkable in that sense. What really made it special was the company he was keeping. Bruce felt himself smile as Tony went off on a tangent about a small business in the area that was developing and distributing tools to harness tidal power as a renewable energy source (to which he'd also sent a 'modest donation' in support of their cause); the guy seriously had an unending ability to talk, as if there was a direct channel from his brain to his mouth, provided, of course, the right person was there to listen.
"Oh, here it is!" Tony interrupted himself, pulling his foot off the gas to decelerate. They'd gotten to the restaurant. It wasn't much, just a small property on the beach side of the street- probably hadn't been renovated in thirty years if the sun-bleached paint was any indication- with a cramped little parking lot and a sign that said 'Paradise Cove Cafe'. Hyperbole likely, but Bruce had learned that sometimes flawed things were the best things, the things that left a lasting impression. The billionaire pulled between the faded yellow lines of the last available spot and cut the engine.
The two of them entered the joint and Bruce removed his sunglasses to look over the menu above the counter. Battered seafood was definitely their speciality; besides cod they had prawns and scallops and calamari and oysters and popcorn shrimp, all jumbled in different combinations #1–10.
"I always go for a number four myself," Tony spoke off-handedly, propping his shades in his hair.
"Four looks good," Bruce agreed.
The other scientist's eyes sparkled. He all but skipped up to the counter and placed their order for two #4s, sliding a twenty to the cashier. He took all of the change and dumped it into the styrofoam tip cup. It was only a few minutes before their meals were ready, hot from the fryer and cradled in red checkered wax paper and a plastic basket. "Enjoy," the employee imparted as she handed them their baskets.
"Already know I will," Tony flashed a charming smile the girl's way. The two of them went to go find a place to sit outside under one of the umbrella tables and dug in. The batter on the shrimp was fluffy, crispy and deliciously greasy. In India, cooking most of his own meals, Bruce had followed a strict regimen about what he ate. This definitely wasn't within the boundries of said diet.
"Good, right? What'd I say?" Tony said, licking his fingertips clean.
His mouth was full, so Bruce nodded in agreement. He grabbed for his glass bottle of Coca-Cola and narrowed his eyes on the top of it, noticing it didn't have a screw-cap. He didn't have a bottle-opener handy…
Tony made a noise, spotting his dilemma. "Like this," the engineer grabbed his own. He positioned the ridge of the bottlecap on the edge of the table and gave it a good hard tap with his other hand. The cap flew off and a cool waft of vapor rose from the inside of the beverage. Bruce marvelled at the simplistic use of the wedge before replicating the procedure himself. "Trick Dad used to use," Tony said.
"Works like a charm," Bruce commented, taking a long draw. Problem-solver indeed.
"Yeah," Tony spoke through a mouthful of fish, not showing the same politeness Bruce had, "Dad had a lot of things figured out."
Bruce sensed their conversation had taken a slightly more serious turn. He decided to pursue the topic, "Such as?"
The innovator chuckled half-heartedly, looking away from his food for a moment and then looking back at Bruce. "Well for one how to 'keep calm and carry on'." He gestured with a hand, "Guy was smack-dab in the middle of World War II. Do you think he ever lost a wink of sleep?"
Bruce absently sucked on one of his teeth where a food particle had lodged. Better question for Rogers. "Did he?" Bruce posed back, questioning the question.
"I don't know," Tony gave an exasperated motion of his hands before flopping them back down into his lap. He shook his head.
Bruce hummed, picking up a couple of fries to stick them in his mouth and chew. He didn't know what to the tell the other man about his father, but he could offer something else. He swallowed before speaking. "Well, I've got a few methods for keeping calm, if you wanted me to show you," he ventured, though he doubted Tony would. Despite his figurative (and literal) prodding back on the helicarrier, his 'secrets' weren't that extraordinary.
The man laughed. "I bet you do." He rubbed at his nose thoughtfully. "Yeah, guess you can show me. What could it hurt?" He shrugged.
The doctor was surprised by this turn of events. Rather than express his dubiousness however, he nodded. "When would you like me to show you?"
Tony went back to picking at his fish; he wasn't quite consuming it at the rate Bruce would've liked. "Whenever, I guess." He looked a little unsure of the answer he had just given, so it didn't surprise Bruce when he amended it. "I mean, I really need to get back to what I was doing when you came in…"
The doctor hoped he was managing to keep the strong disapproval he felt from showing on his face. Tony had said he'd take a break from working if he visited and he expected the man to honor that.
Tony switched gears. He spoke sheepishly, "But it can wait a little longer. At least until after you show me tonight." The engineer paused and peeked up at him, shamefacedly, "Does that… does that work for you?"
Tony's mind sure had a fickle way of sorting through things. It would probably make the prospect of 'tonight' very interesting. "Yeah, that works for me," Bruce said, taking another fry out of his basket.
"Great," Tony said, a grin working its way back over his features.