4: Free Fall

Bruce hated the sensation of falling. Since the accident he had fallen out of and into buildings, off the side of mountains, from a fucking a plane – but that wasn't why he didn't like it.

He was six the first time he ever really thought he was going to die. His father shoved him off a two story deck and though it was only a short fall, it felt like forever and that feeling stayed with him for a long time, intrinsically linked with parental betrayal, with lovelessness, with fear. He knew in some vague way that he couldn't articulate, that that was the worst part of every fall he'd ever taken since the Hulk. It wasn't necessarily the fall itself – it was that the fall brought back so many memories that at this point in his life he would rather just put behind him.

But when he fell for Tony, he didn't even feel his feet leave the ground.

The night he'd realized was just like any other night, nothing special. They were on the rec room couch, side by side as usual, but no one else was with them tonight. Not particularly uncommon, they had places to be. Bruce was practically a prisoner in the tower thanks to his wanted status and Tony stayed with him a lot because why not? They always had something to talk about.

Tonight was no exception. Tony had a projection pulled up, rambling on about some notion he figured out after months of chewing it over in the back of his brain and Bruce was hardly listening as he flipped through a book he'd read several times before. It was relaxing to listen to the sound of Tony's voice, skimming pages full of familiar imagery, in a place that was home to him now, a place that was safe.

Occasionally he would look up at Tony, watch him as he talked, looking at his graphs and gesturing for all the world, like it didn't even matter if Bruce was there or not. And everything he was saying in this relatively routine and mundane ramble could've been recorded and stuck in an MIT lecture hall and kids would have paid good money for it. The thought made him chuckle. Living here, with Tony, was so surreal in comparison to the past few years of his life on the run, or ever his life at the university. It was unbelievable.

But then Tony's warm brown eyes were looking at him and it was like…

"Are you laughing at me?"

Bruce watched the way his eyebrows furrowed in mock offense that was a little too close to the real thing, watched the way his mouth dipped down but then curled at the end, a particular expression he knew so well but which only Tony seemed capable of making.

Then he really was laughing because it was preposterous, so absolutely ridiculous that he couldn't believe he was even entertaining the notion in his brain but Tony was right there, like he'd always been, like he always would be. The only person to stand beside him since Betty, the only one who truly cared. Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe Bruce was just a masochist.

"Hey?" Tony asked, becoming concerned, but when he fell silent and they were forced to just stare at one another, it was worse. In that quiet, the stillness between them, Bruce realized something he had known all along – Tony was beautiful.

And when Tony kissed him, it was gentle and sure, lips pressed to lips, an acknowledgement – like he had just been waiting for Bruce to get there too. But there was no judgement and there was no rush – and when Bruce opened his mouth, Tony pressed in, and then it was too late.

He was falling, falling fast and hard, a headfirst tumble that had Tony's hands in his hair and his own hands everywhere and god, he was scared. There was – there was rejection in the brief little moments Tony's lips left his and there was the Hulk in his pulse and – and there was Pepper and there were just so many things, so many things that could go wrong.

Tony straddled his hips and Bruce grasped at Tony's shirt sleeves, twisting them in his hands, sudden need, desire, panic overwhelming him. But Tony's kisses were persistent little hushes on his lips and he didn't budge, didn't speed up, just cupped his face with warm and rough palms, moving slowly, savoring every moment. In reply Bruce's fingers slackened, his tension ebbed, and it was – it waspleasurable. It wasn't the despair of futile lust that forced to go unfulfilled. It was patient and thorough and calm and…

His fingers reached for the back of Tony's thighs instead to pull him closer as Tony's hips pressed down into his and he gasped. He could feel Tony smile as he kissed him and rocked his hips a little more and damn – it felt good. And Tony was so slow and so methodical, the way he moved his body so deliberately, that Bruce was approaching the edge and he didn't even realize it.

What kind of idiot was he? Prior to that moment Bruce had thought he couldn't have sex, not since the accident. He'd thought that sex was like unrestrained fear, like crashing down a flight of stairs and he was always reaching, reaching, reaching but he could never find the purchase to save himself. But now? Tony was so… different, different than Betty ever had been. Tony was confident and calm and centered and so focused on him. There was no need for desperation or guilt. There was just something about Tony and he realized that, just like always, Tony would take care of him. Tony would take care of him.

It was liberating and exhilarating and strange – how calm he felt beneath him, how safe. And as Tony's hands reached for him, Bruce let them, let him touch him in a way he hadn't been touched in years, in a way he thought he'd never be touched again. And when he fell all too easily over the edge, he breathed out a nervous little whisper in the final moment, fear overtaking him in the free fall –

"Catch me."

And Tony did, wrapping him up in his arms and holding him tightly, planting kisses across his face, into his damp, sweaty hair, down his neck. Tender little kisses, each one a silent reply –

I will.

I will.

I will.