As much as Bruce liked to deny it, he really was the team's doctor. He insisted regularly that his title didn't mean he was medically qualified but none of the others seemed to mind. Besides, he liked the feeling of helping patients; the Other Guy had destroyed so much in his life that he thought of it as a kind of penance, a way to pay back for the destruction caused at the overgrown hands of his alter ego, a debt is what a certain Russian assassin would call it.
It also helped that he was part of the team, knew what his members would tolerate, what would freak them out and what would damage them beyond recognition. They were all wary of medics to a certain extent and he couldn't blame them; especially Clint and Natasha. After Tony and Steve had leafed through Barton's file, both turning shades redder and paler as they read further on. Natasha's SHIELD dossier had turned up the very next day. It was painfully clear to all that if one went the other would undoubtedly follow.
Tony had grimaced when handing him the information, patting him on the back sympathetically in a sort of you have no idea what you're letting yourself in for kind of way. Their live-in spies had obviously led no pampered lifestyle but seeing the strain so clearly displayed on the inner half of their bodies was an excruciating ordeal and Bruce had locked himself in the Hulk-Out Room and it had taken every last inch of his self-control not to let the change happen. Seeing the pristine condition of Natasha's body but the highly unusual brain activity and the deep groves scarring almost all of her bones and the remnants left behind on her organs hurt more when he thought of her as the person who brought the warm blanket after the Other Guy had come out to play, dusting off the remaining rubble where he had passed out, the person who liked to drink tea and spar with her partner when she was feeling down and the person who was perpetually terrified of medical equipment and for a very good reason.
Clint's hit a little closer to home. The wear and tear of his joints showing long endurance even at his young age, his lack of body fat, the undisputed evidence of torture on his feet and hands, whipping scars deep into his muscled back and the long since healed spiral fractures in his wrist - the most common calling card of physical child abuse. Bruce knew that there was a story behind the fact that the two SHIELD agents had a defining dislike towards hospitals and now he completely understood. Natasha had mentioned only ever trusting Barton and Coulson, one had made a different call and the other had saved Barton when she couldn't.
Usually they would patch each other up, their distaste for anyone invading their personal space was normally accompanied by death threats but they didn't seem to mind when Bruce checked them over which he found surprising. He had asked Clint.
Why do you let me treat you and Natasha, Clint? I've seen you with doctors and you're nowhere near this compliant.
Dunno doc, just trust you more I guess. 'Sides you don't smell chemically like in hospitals. 'S nice.
Of course he had been half off his face with painkillers at the time and had soon fallen asleep next to the formidable Black Widow, looking a lot less formidable when she had her knees up at her chest and fast asleep on one of the Quin Jet's cots, in under a minute.
Tony was another who didn't like being treated as a patient, brushing it off with a sarcastic comment or avoiding it in general. Bruce knew it was a direct link as to how he got his arc reactor but his state of mind seemed fragile concerning that sort of thing so he respectfully didn't push it. Sometimes when he was stitching Tony up he would tremble for a minute second and seem to struggle to get air into his lungs but would force his hands to stop shaking and clenching and grit his teeth and tough it out. He tried to be as careful as possible when stitching up Tony, consciously aware of how much pressure and how much skin-to-skin contact he had with the genius.
Steve and Thor rarely needed seen to, the super soldier and god with their advanced healing abilities meant that while they might be in pain for a couple of hours there would be no lasting after shock.
This was why, Bruce told himself, he was so taken back by Jarvis's collected voice informing him that Thor needed medical assistance the sooner the better sir.
Bruce was convinced Tony tinkered with his AI just to screw with them all.
The lights around the tower, Tony still insisted it was his but it was now permanently dubbed the Avengers Tower, were dimmed. Everyone sleeping off the exhaustion from their latest battle more than a little annoyed because really, what was the obsession every super villain had with genetically mutated animals. They had all been overly-tired and cranky before they had even got on the flight home and quickly dispersed after being dismissed from a hellish debriefing. Bruce had planned to have some tea, the kind that warmed you from the inside out, and collapsing bonelessly on the spacious sofa that occupied his living space on his private floor if he didn't make it to his bed in time. After the Hulk came out to play it could leave him sore and feeling sleep-deprived for days.
He got on the nearest elevator and instructed Jarvis to let him off on the same floor as their thunder god, mentally going through all the things that could be wrong with him. Thor was hardy and healed but he did have scars, apparently Asgard's royalty was expected to fight for their country too, not just sit on the throne and look pretty. Bruce was sure that was why everyone liked Thor; he had this air of a princely upbringing but also a warrior's upbringing, quick to defend his friends, his shield brothers if they were to come to any harm. He would make a just king back home, Bruce was sure of that.
The lift stopped on the communal floor and although the room was in semi-darkness Bruce could make out the massive bulk that was Thor standing next to the big table where the team usually ate.
"Thor," he greeted cheerfully with a hint of concern seeping through, "Jarvis called me, are you alright?"
The blonde demi-god jumped, hand already half way into the practiced movement of calling Mjölnir before it jarred and dropped to his muscular side when he saw the doctor and instead sighed a world weary sigh.
"I am sorry friend Bruce, I confess I am not feeling completely well at the moment and apologise for my… restlessness."
"It's all right; let's just get you patched up, okay? I'm sure we'll all feel better after a good night's sleep," Bruce babbled as he approached the table which he could now see was covered in the general items found in a first aid kit. He made sure his voice was calm, reassuring. The worst thing was a panicked doctor when you were scared and alone and ill. It was normally the voice he reserved for his young fevered patients in back water towns that had never been treated in their life and where a simple sickness could mean death to many. Lately though, he'd used it when patching up his comrades, Natasha and Clint and Tony all being so scared of hospitals he felt like they had needed a reason to relax and it had worked. Slowly lulling them into unclenching their overworked muscles and letting him touch them without being startled or their hands inching towards their concealed weapons.
The blonde nodded, head hanging heavily as he slumped into one of the chairs and shrugged off his loose long sleeved shirt on the way to reveal the nasty gash that ran deep into his skin and traced from one shoulder across the broad expanse of his back before it tucked behind an opposite rib. The surrounding skin was enflamed and angry and followed the track of the wound. Thor grimaced before rolling his shoulders, folding his arms on the table and laying his head down, exposing his back so that Bruce could clearly see the damage on his otherwise unmarred skin.
"Jeez Thor! Why didn't you say anything?"
"I did not find it pressing at the time, it was only now I realised the extent of the injury," his princely voice muffled slightly by his bulging arms but still identifiably princely, "I did not want to trouble anyone either," was said in a much smaller voice.
It was Bruce's turn to sigh in exasperation and guilt this time. He'd thought he had made himself seem harmless enough that his friends wouldn't fear to come to him for help or treatment. The fact that Thor had ignored the state of his injury for so long worried him, he didn't actually know if gods could get infections but the chances were definitely increased if they had been lugging around in sweltering weighted armour all day.
"It's all right Thor; you don't have to come to me. We could go to the Helicarrier or a hospital, hell I'm sure Natasha or Clint would see to you if you're uncomfortable," Bruce blurted out, putting a safe distance between himself and the thunderer, as if to ease any anxiety.
"I apologise if I mislead you doctor, you have been nothing but patient and kind towards me," Thor smiled reassuringly, momentarily glancing up from where he had buried his head in his arms, "I am merely unused to someone taking care of my battle scars other than my brother."
Oh. Oh. Bruce kind of felt like an idiot now, it was so easy to forget that their loyal alien ally was related to the complete madman that had totalled New York. Loki had been completely unhinged when he attacked Manhattan and even though Thor had said that his brother was adopted, it was difficult to see any similarities in those moments at all. He'd been relieved when Thor had dragged his estranged sibling back to Asgard, chained and muzzled like a hound. He hadn't really thought about what Thor was feeling at the time, how it must have hurt to tighten his little brother's shackles and to gag his notorious silver tongue and to return the wayward prince to face Asgardian and Chitaurian justice. Bruce didn't know about siblings, he'd been an only child and had never, never wished his father's abuse upon anyone but himself, but even him, with a ridiculous lack of a normal childhood, could see that the two princes had been exceptionally close at one point.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't really think of it that way. Is he… Is he better now?"
"What you must understand friend Bruce, is that when Loki was here last he was broken in both mind and body. The Chitauri had bound him to their will so he had no other option but to obey their demands." Thor shuddered has he explained this, pressing himself further into the table and clenching his fists, "My brother was not as you had seen. As a child he was fond of his mischief but was kind. I do not know when his mischief became cruel trickery and when his kindness became deceit. He was… is a brilliant tactician upon the field of battle, if he truly meant to rule Midgard we would have been powerless to stop him."
Bruce could totally understand that, Loki had been, for lack of a better word sloppy in his ruling. If what Thor was saying was true it meant that Loki had been manipulating everyone, and wasn't that a scary thought?
"Well, that's a bit intimidating really, isn't it?" a forced laugh on Bruce's half rose a chuckle from the pile of blonde muscle on the table, "Are you sure you don't mind me fixing you up?"
"Do your worse Banner." Thor really had been hanging out with Clint too much recently, that expression rolled far too easily of his noble tongue for Bruce's liking but it did make a genuine smile cross his lined face.
The cut, as deep as it was, was blessedly clean and after gently dabbing away the excess blood it looked a lot less festering around the edges. Thor hadn't stopped talking the whole time; Bruce thought it was to ground himself so didn't mention it. He talked of grand tales of himself, the trickster and the warriors three, of him and Loki as children, his tone filled with an age-old heart ache that would take a lot more than a neat row of stitches and bandages to heal. There had been a couple of times when he had frozen completely under Bruce's careful and steady hands, not struggling and not jumping just… stilling. It kind of freaked the doctor out a bit but he had dealt with Natasha trying to skewer him with a throwing knife when she was supposed to be unconscious so he figured he could deal with a little weird behaviour. It wasn't like he was the pinnacle for normal either.
He also didn't mention the fact that the only person Thor usually let near him to medicate his injuries was his brother and that he seemed to trust Bruce enough to fill this role. The god should have been wary and closed off at the betrayal of such a close friend but he had let Bruce and the rest of the team in, somehow able to look past the grief and despair unbelievably, find some hope again.
Bruce just wished he would be able to do the same if he was ever put in Thor's position.