Author's note:

Sorry it took so long and is so short. I'm having trouble working back up to the action again. Please excuse the absolute bullshit speak I make up for discussing the weapon in this chapter. It's pretty low-grade hollywood and I apologize.

Please review! For every person to review, Tony Stark adopts a puppy in Cambodia!

(a/n: Edit 8-22-2012: I would like to thank everyone for the faves, reviews and helpful criticism. This update includes the smoothing out of minor issues, grammatical errors and continuity inconsistencies. Thanks again for your support. New chapter soon, I promise!)

(a/n: Edit: 8-23-2012: I fixed a few more boo boos and added a cozy little bonding moment between Bruce and Pepper for my own consideration.)

I

"JARVIS! I need your help!"

Bruce clutched Tony's transparent phone in both hands and yelled into it. Normally, he didn't yell. In fact, he only yelled when things were really bad. But right now, he felt pretty justified in his conclusion that things were really bad.

An hour into their work, Tony had dropped unconscious onto his suit. For a second, Bruce had no clue what had just happened, but then, as a loud and steady beeping suddenly erupted from his Italian leather watch, he realized. Tony had passed out.

"Anything I can do, Dr. Banner," said the computer.

"I'm trying very hard not to panic, but I have only treated three cases of hypothermia in my entire life. I'm a little worried," said Bruce, pretending he wasn't concerned about the level of panic in his voice.

"I would recommend bringing Mr. Stark's body temperature back up."

It took all the strength in Bruce's body not to say, "No shit, Sherlock."

He took a deep breath. He counted. He focused on the sound of his breath. He felt the oxygen being absorbed by his lungs. He took another breath. And another. Finally, he found the clearing in his head and he saw everything. When he reached that point, lives got saved. And right now, a very important life needed saving. He was ready.

"JARVIS," he finally said, rolling Tony onto his back and off of the suit, "which device in here could tell me Tony's temperature?"

"The suit would, sir, if he was in it. Try lowering the chest plate over Mr. Stark's body and I'll see if I can get a reading," said the voice from the phone.

Bruce picked up the heaviest piece of the armor, the Arc reactor in the center glowing coolly, and laid it over Tony's chest. The machine was still dead, so nothing hissed or fitted into place, to Bruce's subconscious disappointment.

"Body temperature at 94.3 degrees Fahrenheit," said JARVIS. "This constitutes a mild case of hypothermia, Dr. Banner. Mr. Stark's loss of consciousness could be attributed to his alcoholism, which, in cases of hypothermia, often leads to hypoglycemia."

Bruce nodded as he lifted the chest plate, even though JARVIS couldn't see the gesture. Hypoglycemia made sense, because he honestly couldn't account for the fainting this early on in the case otherwise. If he could get Tony warm and wake him, the powdered donuts Tony had requested earlier should serve to raise his blood sugar and get him back on track quickly.

"First, I gotta warm you up," said Bruce.

He removed his snowsuit and tucked it around Tony as best he could. He knelt beside Tony and rubbed his chest for several minutes before using the chest plate again to gauge his temperature.

"I'm afraid your efforts have only marginally affected Mr. Stark's body temperature, Dr. Banner," said JARVIS from the phone's speaker. "Mr. Stark's temperature is only 94.5 degrees Fahrenheit."

Bruce would swear the AI's voice sounded remorseful. Leave it to Tony Stark to program a computer that could be both sarcastic and remorseful.

"We need to build a fire, JARVIS," said Bruce, rising to look around.

"Indoors, sir, I'm afraid you'll suffocate on the smoke."

The door was wedged shut against the roaring wind outside. There was a single, thick-paned window on the east side of the building. Bruce looked up and noted the roof rose to a point in the center.

"JARVIS," he said, laughing inwardly at his own stupidity, "can you help me attach just one of the Iron Man gauntlets?"

"Step by step, sir," said the computer.

With Tony's prone form wrapped warmly in the corner of the room, underneath the shelter of the worn work table, Bruce stood in front of him and aimed the forearm of the Mark V armor at the peak in the ceiling.

"Just a tiny hole," he said.

"As small as possible sir."

A tiny whine. A loud whoosh. And then a crash that would normally embarrass Bruce if anyone had been around to hear.

"Wow," he said, sincerely impressed at the precision of the weapon in Tony's suit. The blast had been as small and gentle as he had needed to create a hole just under two feet across in the highest point of the ceiling. "Thanks, JARVIS."

"Always a pleasure, Dr. Banner."

Snow swirled down into the hole, but only lightly. The wind seemed to be whipping most of it by too quickly for it to fall into the hole.

In the corner, Bruce dismantled the remains of a wooden packing crate and piled the broken boards in the center of the room. He found some organic packing material for kindling and wadded it neatly in the center of pile.

"JARVIS," he said, "can any of Tony's devices start a fire or do I have to do this by hand?"

"There should be a cigarette lighter in Mr. Stark's pants pocket, sir," said JARVIS.

"Tony doesn't smoke," Bruce mused, kneeling beside Tony.

JARVIS didn't respond.

He was only slightly uncomfortable reaching inside the layers of cold weather suits to Tony's pants. As embarrassing as it was, he was relieved to find a black Zippo in Tony's right front pocket. The scratched metal casing bore the letters H-A-W-S in a swirling script.

"Whew," sighed Bruce, wiping a thin line of nervous sweat from his forehead. As cold as he was without his snowsuit, he still managed to perspire with anxiety. At least his watch had stopped beeping.

The fire lit easily and in a few short minutes, Bruce had a really comfortable blaze going in the center of the room.

"Now, you better not catch fire," he said, carefully dragging Tony's unconscious form closer to the flames. "I don't want to have to throw you into the snow to douse it."

"Mr. Stark does have a tendency to combust, Dr. Banner," said JARVIS. "If I were you, I'd keep a close eye on him."

"Is he always this much trouble?"

"More so, sir. Though, granted, this is his first time developing hypothermia under my watch. But I am on a first name basis with the fire chief of Malibu."

Bruce chuckled. Naturally Tony's AI butler would know the fire chief. Naturally.

With trembling hands, Bruce put his own snow suit back on. He'd be no good to Tony if he couldn't think or move properly from his own mild case of hypothermia. His shivering stopped almost immediately. He stood by the fire and breathed deeply the sticky smell of the treated wood as it burned.

A sense of peace fell on him. With Tony, Bruce never knew what was about to happen. It was Tony's own unique brand of chaos. But in a crisis, with someone injured or bleeding or dying, he at least knew what he needed to do. That purpose kept him sane, kept his heart rate down, kept him from running around screaming. It was a predictable kind of chaos. Fire? Treat burns. Illness? Treat symptoms. Sun stroke? Give fluids. Lives, of course, would always be lost, but he could rejoice in the ones he could save. For a moment, he felt like he was back in Calcutta.

Tony let out a low groan, and Bruce dropped to his knees beside him.

"Tony?"

Tony said nothing else, but looked slightly more peaceful than he had when he first went unconscious. Bruce sighed out of a mixture of frustration and relief. And then he realized that only Tony could make someone feel relief and frustration at the same time. As Bruce lifted Tony up on his side so the fire could warm the chest piece, he thought to himself, Right now, I know what it is to be Pepper Potts.

"Oh, Pepper!" he said aloud.

"I've been blocking her calls while you were caring for Mr. Stark," said JARVIS suddenly. "I thought the phone ringing might… irritate you, sir."

"Thanks, I think."

"May I try her for you now?"

"Please," said Bruce, picking up Tony's phone from the table.

Pepper's flushed face appeared within seconds.

"Anthony Edward Stark, I'm going to kill y – Bruce?" she stuttered, taken aback to be looking at Bruce instead of Tony.

"Hi, Pepper," said Bruce, smirking sadly at her.

"Where the hell is Tony?"

Bruce knew it was cruel, but he couldn't resist turning the phone around and leaning over so Pepper could see Tony in a sad, unconscious heap on the floor.

"What on earth is going on?!" she cried.

"Tony's hypothermic. We're stranded in the tundra," said Bruce, turning the phone back to himself. "He'll be fine. JARVIS and I are taking good care of him."

"How did he…? Do I… Do I even want to know, Bruce?" sighed Pepper, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.

Bruce took a deep breath told Pepper everything about Tony's trip out into the cold, the crash, Bruce having to wear the suit and Tony passing out from cold and hunger in the middle of fixing the Mark VII. Pepper watched in awe on the other line.

"And now I'm just waiting for Tony to warm up enough to wake up," Bruce concluded, reaching over Tony's body to rub warming circles around the lump in Tony's snowsuit that was the Arc reactor. "We can't get his strength up again until he's lucid."

"When will he wake up?" asked Pepper, her voice breaking.

Bruce shrugged. "Hopefully soon. As soon as I get some food in him, we can finish the suit and get out of here."

"I'm really disappointed in our security team for not being able to come get you," she said, consulting a tablet.

"Please don't be, Pepper," said Bruce, running his fingers through his hair in tired frustration. "The ground is covered in about ten feet of snow, maybe twelve. They couldn't get out here. Tony…" he paused. "Tony anticipated needing my help. Something tells me he's got an unhealthy determination to find this weapon. It's like he's holding himself responsible for it."

Pepper smiled ruefully. "You'll get used to that, Bruce. I vividly recall a conversation I had with Tony about something similar."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But let me tell you something. That conversation frightened me more than I would ever want to admit to anyone, but it also made me love him more than I would ever admit to anyone. It chang – No, I'll correct myself." Pepper's smile warmed and she said, "It made me see how wonderful he was. It didn't change how I felt for him. It made me realize what was already there."

"Tony's eccentricities are his strengths," said Bruce, matching Pepper's smile. "I can see that, Pepper. But they're also going to be his undoing."

A silent laugh escaped Pepper, half sigh, and she said, "But that's why he has us. To keep him from breaking."

The pair smiled at one another for a long moment.

"Are you going to be okay, Bruce?"

"Yeah. I promise I'll get Tony back on his feet. Get back to work, Pepper."

"Okay. Will you please call me the second you get back to the plane?"

"Of course."

"Goodbye, Bruce. Be safe."

"You have my word, Pepper. Bye."

The line closed and Bruce found himself suddenly alone. The fallen snow and thick cement walls of the building hushed the roar outside into a dull vibration that matched the sound of blood in Bruce's ears. It was a sullen, weighty quiet. He liked being alone, of course, but there was more than solitude in that place; there was genuine loneliness. Bruce found himself silently praying for Tony to wake up so he'd have someone to talk to.

"JARVIS," he said to the phone, "are you like a geisha?"

"I'm afraid my services are quite limited to that end, sir."

Bruce laughed. "I mean trained in the art of conversation."

"I learned from the best," said JARVIS.

"I bet you could be a sarcastic bastard, huh?"

"I could actually put Mr. Stark to shame if I had to. When he designed me, he had in mind someone who could keep up with him."

"Makes sense," said Bruce, absently rubbing the warming circles on Tony's chest. "Tony's damn hard to match. I wish I could keep up with him."

"You do far better than you give yourself credit for, Dr. Banner. There's a reason Mr. Stark values your company so."

"Thanks, JARVIS. You're an alright guy," said Bruce, dozing as he leaned against Tony's still form.

"As are you, Dr. Banner."

II

Bruce was awakened by Tony rolling onto his back and groaning.

"…perfectly legitimate theory, Pep. Gimme back my kite!"

"Tony?" said Bruce, leaning over him and checking his pulse.

Tony's dark eyelashes fluttered and he looked at Bruce.

"You're not Pepper."

"No, I'm the guy who saved your life."

"Pepper's prettier."

"Guy. Who saved. Your life."

"That list is growing every week," groaned Tony, raising a hand to his face.

"Twice," reminded Bruce, smiling wistfully.

"Touché. You're the first on that end."

Tony attempted sitting up and groaned in pain before settling back on the ground.

"Alright, Bruce, wanna fill me in? I feel like I'm reliving Afghanistan."

Bruce looked down at Tony and tried not to smile. "You kinda are."

Bruce related Tony's frostbite and hypothermia and unconsciousness and the subsequent events.

"You blew a hole in the roof?" repeated Tony, looking at Bruce like he thought him a goddamn liar before turning his eyes to the ceiling.

"There's a fire inside this building, Tony. You miss that part?" Bruce smirked. "JARVIS helped."

"JARVIS?"

"Everything's true, Mr. Stark. Dr. Banner proved more resourceful than you had previously concluded," said the voice from the phone.

"Thanks?" said Bruce, digging through his dufflebag for the powdered sugar donuts. "Here," he said, handing one to Tony. "You need to eat to get going again."

Tony eyed the donut, then, in one swift motion, sat up, snatched it out of Bruce's fingers with his teeth, and fell back on the floor.

"Ew!" cried Bruce, wiping his fingers on his snowsuit. "That's gross. Don't do that. I don't know if you've had your shots."

Tony smirked as he chewed.

Shortly, the package of donuts was consumed and Tony's bloodsugar was clearly on the rise. He was on his feet in minutes and nervously attacking the last steps of his project. Bruce just looked on, unable to help or add any input when Tony was on a sugar high. It was as if he was five years old.

Bruce couldn't help but notice, however, that Tony frequently paused to clutch his chest and cough. As he put the finishing touches on the Iron Man helmet, he got into a choking fit that brought him to his knees. Bruce put an arm around Tony's middle and helped him closer to the fire.

"I need to finish this, Bruce," said Tony hoarsely.

"You will," said Bruce, settling down beside Tony, "but you need a break."

Tony glared, but relaxed beside Bruce.

"Trust me, Tony," said Bruce, absently stoking the fire with a board that wasn't burning, "I know about physical limitations."

"I have no physical limitations," said Tony, affronted, rubbing his chest.

Bruce looked at him. He thought perhaps it was best not to say anything to that. He just shook his head. Then he remembered.

"Hey," he said, retrieving the Zippo from his pocket, "this is yours."

Tony glared at the lighter in Bruce's hand and instinctively felt at his hips.

"Where'd you get that?"

"I needed to start a fire," said Bruce. He suddenly felt guilty without knowing why. "JARVIS told me where it was."

Tony snatched the lighter back, flipped it open, lit it, looked at the flame for a full ten seconds, blew it out and tucked the lighter gently into his pants pocket, deep inside his snow suit.

"I'm sorry," said Bruce, realizing on instinct that he'd stumbled upon something sacred by mistake. "You can… You can, you know, tell me…"

Tony looked determinedly at the wall and dragged his fingers across his hips, feeling for the lighter through the layers of down and neoprene. Bruce looked at the fire.

"My dad… was a business man."

Bruce felt eyes on him and looked up to see Tony peeking at him from the very corner of his eye, feigning covertness. Bruce waited patiently for the next sentence.

"He taught me that business is about charm," Tony finally continued.

"That's completely logical and it accounts for your personality," Bruce ventured, smiling.

Tony bit his lip, staring at the fire, which competed with the glow of the reactor for the position of dominant color on Tony's face.

"Charm involved being whatever someone needed you to be. In his time, you could sum that whole concept up in one action: Lighting someone's cigarette."

Bruce frowned, confused.

"Everyone smoked in the forties, fifties and most of the sixties," Tony clarified.

"Ah," said Bruce, nodding.

"If someone was out of matches or couldn't find their lighter, you whip a Zippo out of your pocket and light their cig before they realize it and you're gold. The deal's done, the contract signed, the check posted," said Tony, reaching for the lighter again. He flicked it on before continuing. "I learned when I was twelve that the only time my father smiled at me was when I lit his cigarette."

Bruce didn't know what to say to that. He was suddenly five, trembling on the floor as strong, bruised arms clutched him away from another falling blow. Had his father… ever smiled at him? Somehow, he didn't feel sympathetic towards Tony's situation at all. And yet, simultaneously, Tony had all of Bruce's sympathy. It was a strange and uncomfortable sensation. He could easily imagine the warm light of approval shining from an imaginary father's face; he readily saw himself willing to do anything to earn that approval. Tony's sentiment made sense.

He couldn't think of a response as a sickening mixture of resentment and sympathy weighed on his shoulders, so he leaned over and blew out the flame, earning a confused look from Tony.

"I kept a cheap lighter in my pocket all the time until Dad died," sighed Tony, putting the lighter away again. "I found this one on his nightstand and kept it since then. It's sealed more than one business deal."

Bruce smirked. "Whatever works."

"Speaking of which, I'm not," said Tony, rising. "We need to get the hell out of here before dark."

"Dark?" said Bruce.

"Mr. Stark, it's 8:47 pm local time," said JARVIS through the phone.

"How the hell did that happen?" said Tony, peering through the single dirty window in the building. It was hard to tell night from day through the thick glass, especially with a blizzard outside.

"You were unconscious for over four hours, sir."

"Shit."

Bruce shrugged when Tony looked at him. "I dozed off, so I can't attest."

"Well," sighed Tony in exasperation, "let's get out of here before midnight, then."

"Sounds like a plan," said Bruce.

It only took a few short minutes for the pair to finish repairing and assembling the Mark IX. This model didn't need a compact form to assemble. The standing form simply folded itself open and wrapped around the wearer. Tony thought it was a little trendier to step into the armor's niche in his workshop and let it assemble over him without any effort. Visually, it resembled both the Mark V suit case and the walking arch assembly he'd set up at Stark Tower.

In three seconds flat, after the suit's initial pressurization, Tony was suited. He assisted Bruce in donning the Mark V, which was still incredibly uncomfortable, but this time Bruce was prepared.

"You look dashing in my clothes, Banner," said Tony, smirking at him with the face plate raised.

Bruce grimaced. "I find that incredibly hard to believe when even you don't look dashing in your clothes."

Tony gasped. "You don't think I'm fabulous in my suit? You, the guy whose super power is getting naked in record time?" Tony gestured up and down at Bruce's body. "A pox on thee."

Bruce faltered. He didn't have a snappy comeback to that. "Hey, I look great naked. Kiss my ass, Stark," he quipped.

Tony smirked. "Gladly. Outside, Zoolander. We have places to go and people to 'splode."

The wind was roaring outside. It bit even through the warming layers inside the suit. With his helmet sealed, Bruce saw the HUD labeling everything around him. The temperature was dismal, displayed in a green number on the right side of the screen. It went from 26.8 degrees below zero to 27.2 in the first minute he was outside.

"The suits can make it in this, right?" he shouted over the roar.

Tony's voice sounded in his ear, "No need to shout, Grandpa. We have a comm. system!"

"Sorry," said Bruce. "Reflex."

"And yeah, the suits'll be fine as long as we don't crash again. Damn, there's no chance whatsoever of tracking the radiation," said Tony, rotating in place. "This blizzard and that lead blanket really fucked us."

"All this trouble for nothing," sighed Bruce, folding his arms as best he could in the armor.

"Nothing I do is ever for nothing," said Tony, blasting up to the roof.

"How can this debacle help our cause?"

"Everything I do is for a reason. Come on, you should know me better. I've been taking in information this whole time, cataloguing it, analyzing it," said Tony, walking around the roof of the building as snow whipped around him. "JARVIS has been tracking the plane."

"How can you track the plane?" asked Bruce, sloppily rocketing up to join Tony, landing on one knee.

"I have my ways," he said enigmatically.

As the pair flew back to the plane, Tony had the courtesy to fly slow enough for Bruce could keep up. It was a lot less awkward for him the second time around and a very tiny part of him could see why some people might enjoy being Iron Man on occasion.

"A couple years ago, my buddy Rhodey took one of my suits…" said Tony.

"Colonel Rhodes? I think I met him after the battle in Manhattan."

"Yeah, him. And they gave him this cute nickname. 'War Machine.' You know, 'cause he's in the Air Force and they weaponized the suit."

"Okay? What are you getting at, Tony?" said Bruce, feeling like a punchline was coming.

"You need a cool nickname."

"Nope."

"Come on," whined Tony. "It'll be cute!"

"No."

"Please?"

"Allow me to take a page out of your book of creative negotiating techniques, Tony, and say, 'Fuck no.'"

"Ooh, Brucey, you swore. That's hot."

"Bite my shiney metal ass, Stark," said Bruce, doing something he never dreamed of doing: rocketing past Tony.

Bruce couldn't believe he was racing Tony to the plane in Iron Man armor. He felt like he was a teenager in a souped up convertible. This really went against everything he believed in, everything he worked for. But at the same time… It was really fucking exciting.

Over the comm., Tony was suggesting names and Bruce was trying really hard to ignore them as he focused on flying.

"The Steel Scientist?"

"No."

"The Hurtling Hulk?"

"No!"

"The Flying Physicist?"

"Tony, no!"

"The Green Goblin?"

"You're just being a dick now."

By this time, they could see the Stark Industries jet. Tony sped up and Bruce knew that the race was over. But he wouldn't lose for lack of trying. He blasted as fast as he could after Tony. Bruce watched him land (crash) gracefully on the wing of the plane and he made every sane attempt to follow suit. And failed.

First, the plane was upside down. Then, there was moment of blackness. A sizzling sound. Snippets of JARVIS saying something through a damaged speaker. Flashes of the HUD trying to come back online.

"Hey, Big Guy."

"Tony?"

With a small rush, the faceplate opened and Tony was kneeling over Bruce, who suddenly found himself in a snowbank, looking up at the white-silver rush of the blizzard – and Tony's face, smirking out of the Mark IX.

"You okay?"

"I'll be better when I get this horrible suit off and curl up in a warm blanket," said Bruce as Tony helped him to his feet.

"That's one of the fruitiest things I ever heard anyone say. And I've spent time with Navy seamen."

"You're sick, Stark. You know that, right?"

Tony just chuckled as the two boarded the plane.

III

"…Am going to kill you with one of your own robots! Do you understand me? I'm gonna use my emergency override protocols for JARVIS, hack your bot, send it to you wherever the hell you are and have it kill you. Would you like that, Tony?"

"Parts of it, yes."

"Butterfingers and Dummy dismantling you for a change. I know I like it."

Pepper was in the video chat window of the big screen in the plane's cabin. Tony was propped on the lounger with a hot electric blanket wrapped around his chest and a small drug cocktail Bruce had concocted in his system. The glass of scotch in his hand had been recommended against by his "physician" but he had the security clearances to have the plane take off, so Bruce couldn't argue. Tony at least agreed to balance every glass of scotch with a cup of hot tea.

Bruce was sitting beside Tony in a comfortable chair, a blanket around him as well with a cup of steaming chamomile tea warming his hands, watching the show with amusement. There were three bleeding cuts on his arms from where the suit had pinched him and he'd had to do some damage control before the suit was put away. Tony insisted the suit be put through a robotic cleaning process back home rather than risk letting Bruce make a bigger mess of it, so the now dented and bloodied Mark V went into storage for the remainder of the trip. Clear bandage spray had taken care of his arms.

"Pep, my love – "

"Don't you dare!"

"Yes'm."

Bruce had never heard Tony say, "Yes'm."

"We both warned you, Tony," piped Bruce for the first time since the conversation began. He smiled behind his mug.

"Stay out, Banner," warned Tony with a finger.

Bruce was about to respond, but Pepper cut across them both.

"We did warn you. I knew that stupid radioactive suit would lead to no good. You almost died! Again! If you hadn't had a spare suit…! If Bruce couldn't fly it…! If JARVIS's comm. had been damaged in the fall…!"

Bruce felt a shadow fall across his own face. Softly, he said, "You'd be dead."

"Nothing new to me. I die all the time," said Tony, stretching back in his lounger. His ribcage popped uncomfortably.

"But it kills me every time," said Pepper, hastily wiping tears from her lashes before the mascara ran.

Tony's look changed. "Oh, Pepper. I'm sorry. I really thought it would work. Look at the bright side! I got some useful data, I tested a fascinating new use for the suit and Bruce learned to fly!"

"I… I didn't… It was a one time thing!" stuttered Bruce, nearly choking on his tea.

Pepper smiled on the screen, her eyes glittering.

"Yeah, sure, one time," said Tony, swallowing an ice cube, which probably wasn't a good idea, considering. "Except for that one time you raced me back to the plane!"

"I… It wasn't…"

"Raced?" repeated Pepper, smirking.

"No! I was following Tony… and he was flying too fast… and I tried to land the way he did…"

"And you crashed. Twice. Which was awesome, by the way," said Tony, knocking back the last of the scotch and reaching for a hot mug of tea. "You looked totally awesome the way you did that backflip right before landing."

"I can't believe you got Bruce to race you in an Iron Man suit," said Pepper. Her shoulders shifted as if she'd put her hands on her hips offscreen.

"Oh, hells yeah. I'm gonna make a suit just for him. I'm painting it green and purple. And we're getting him a cool superhero nickname."

"Tony!" said Bruce warningly.

"Nickname? The Incredible Hulk isn't enough?" giggled Pepper.

"Pepper, don't encourage him, please," whined Bruce, giving her his best puppy look.

"Oh, no, no, no. Now that he's flying, we have to improve it."

"Tony!"

"Faster than a speeding centrifuge."

"Tony, stop."

"More powerful than a Tesla coil."

"Tony, I swear to god…"

"Able to solve for X in a single bound."

"I'm going to kill you!"

"It's a beaker! It's a mass spectrometer! It's the Scientist of Steel, Super Bruce!"

Bam!

Bruce had punched Tony in the face.

After her initial gasp of shock, Pepper cracked up.

"You sod ob a bidge!" growled Tony, clutching his nose.

"I warned you," said Bruce, hands on his hips, unable to hide his grin.

"I'm godda make you pay for dat lader," said Tony, getting up and running to the bathroom mirror, his hot blanket still wrapped around his torso.

"It's not broken," said Bruce, turning to Pepper.

"He deserved it," she said, smiling knowingly. "Besides, if you did break it, it'd only be the thirteenth time our plastic surgeon had to fix it."

"Thirteenth? Wow, I'd feel special," said Bruce, smirking.

Tony returned shortly.

"Thankfully, I'm still beautiful," he said, glaring at Bruce. "If it was broken, I'd have had to break something of yours."

Bruce shrugged. "I've had it all broken at least once. Nothing new."

"If you girls are through fighting over lipstick," said Pepper on the screen. They turned back to her. "What now?"

"We're on our way back home," said Bruce, sitting back down.

"Via Switzerland," said Tony. The other two turned to him in surprise. "We still have to check on the plane."

"What plane, Tony?" cried Pepper in obvious frustration.

He looked at her and Bruce like they were crazy.

"Duh, the one that's gonna release that superweapon onto mankind and blow up an area the size of France!" he said, tossing his arms into the air.

"Can't the bomb be detonated without it?" asked Bruce.

"No. That's the failsafe. The bomb literally cannot be detonated without a control program on the plane itself. Why do you think they were kept so far apart?"

Bruce collapsed back in his chair, his hands over his face.

"Why didn't you say so from the beginning?" he groaned. "We were panicking for no reason!"

"What prevents the weapon being fired exactly?" asked Pepper.

"It was Hammer's idea. He's obviously not as big an idiot as he wants me to think. The ignition protocols for the Devastator don't exist until someone programs them into the plane, which isn't yet finished. The only way for the weapon to be used right now is if someone dismantles it and rebuilds it into a more traditional weapon." Tony paused to sigh. "And let's be real here. Who'd go to this much trouble for a little bit of plutonium?"

"I'm honestly amazed by Hammer's innovation," said Bruce, rubbing his eyes. "But there's no need to panic yet as long as that plane's safe."

"That's why we're stopping by on the way home. I'm installing my security team there to help keep an eye on it. When it's finished, I'm moving it to my private airfield in LA," said Tony, making a face as he sipped some tea. "Gross, Banner. How do you drink this shit?"

Bruce looked at Pepper, exasperated.

"Put a couple tablespoons of sugar in it, Bruce," she sighed. "He'll drink it all."

"Or some vodka," added Tony. "Or something, you know, good, like coffee or cocaine or something!"

"I don't think you need coke right now, Tony," said Pepper, running a hand through the end of her ponytail. "You need rest."

"Don't shit me, woman. I slept for hours while Bruce cuddled me," said Tony, emptying several packets of sugar into his mug.

"Uh, kept you warm, Tony. You know, so you didn't die," said Bruce, handing Tony a stirrer.

"Same thing," shrugged Tony, sipping the now cavity-inducing tea.

"Saved your life," said Pepper with such an air of finality, both men were silenced. "Now, I can't take anymore drama. I'm going to spend tomorrow at the spa. Watkins can run the company for a few hours for me. You two call me the second you leave Switzerland so I know what's up. Good night, guys."

Without another word, Pepper was gone and the cabin was silent, save for the muted roar of the engines.

"Tony," said Bruce, sitting up to look at him, "you've had a look on your face the entire time we were discussing the plane. You know something else, don't you?"

Tony smiled over the edge of his mug. "A look?" he purred.

"Come on, Tony, spill. What's the joke?"

"It's not a joke." He paused, stirring his tea, then he sat up and grinned at Bruce. "Only Hammer and a few of the scientists working on the project knew the truth about the ignition protocols."

Bruce nodded for him to continue.

"If they just stole the weapon and nothing happens, it means they just stole what they thought was a powerful nuclear bomb and were unable to fire it. But if attempts are made to steal the plane, it means that the person or persons behind the theft knows about the design."

"An inside job," said Bruce, cocking his head and thinking hard. "But they already had insiders, like Reynolds, right?"

"Right, but Reynolds didn't know about the plane."

"He didn't?"

"Nope," said Tony, bobbing his eyebrows at Bruce. "Like I said, only a handful know, including a couple working on the bomb and a couple working on the plane. Between us all, less than ten people know the truth."

"Okay, so who could be that inside and still not be working on the project?" mused Bruce, still not seeing the big picture Tony was hinting at.

Tony chuckled. "That's why we're going to watch and wait for this plane to get stolen. If something happens to it, we'll know once and for all who's behind the whole thing."

"You're starting to sound like a pulp detective, Tony," said Bruce, laughing.

"I'm starting to feel like one, my dear Dr. Banner."