A/N: Halo! I'm baa~ack, and I managed not to get eaten by a bear or anything. Quick sorry if I haven't answered your review yet on the last chapter, I will get to it, promise :P I know I'm pretty damn bad for replying, so I'm going to make a more honest effort in the future! "
And so: Special thank-yous to 5harky, aisu10, Ginshi-chan, Guest 1 (who I'm assuming is Post_U_Later), CascadingStar, Trumpeteer34, Shara Raizel, Guest 2, MissGerardWay, NightblazetheFemme, Silver of Melody, Malkaviankitten7, camitake, and breakneck for your reviews, and thank-yous to the watches and the favs. And of course, love to NoOneShallKnow, as my beta.
I've nothing special to add on this, so please enjoy
`~+0+~`
The transport's steady hum was comforting, blurring into a blanket of white noise that let Tony forget he was sitting in an enclosed space with no way out. In the rush of landing and the meeting, he hadn't had the time to feel claustrophobic. Now that quiet had descended on the carrier Tony felt the entrapment the enclosed metal walls were imposing on him and it was a fight not to flip a switch on the controls and sit on the ramp for the remainder of the trip. He dreaded putting on the suit again, despaired of not being able to. He didn't want the beast to take Iron Man away from him, too. It was too cruel.
He was sitting in the pilots chair, cabin door shut on the rest of the carrier so he could sit in relative peace, staring out at the black expanse of water and night sky, broken only by moonlight and billions of stars. The sight of the stars helped, though he longed for a fresh breeze.
He munched on a protein bar as he contemplated what was in his hands. The others had thoughtfully taken all of his and Bruce's personal effects from the Helicarrier and packed them up along with their own, and that included one of his spare StarkTech phones, which he'd had wrapped up in a pair of socks. The phone was blank and dead, see-through like all of his personal tablets. It was encrypted and any call it made was reported to be calling simultaneously from Hong Kong, Miami, Toronto, Moscow and London, as well as a wide variety of small towns dotting the globe. It was perfectly safe to make a call, but he knew the rest of the team would object.
Right now most of them were asleep as the ship flew on autopilot. Barton and Romanoff had disappeared into the med bay to sleep. At first Tony wondered if it was a combination of over-protectiveness and a way for them to shag despite everyone's proximity, but he soon learned it was because of Thor, who had passed out on one of the benches. It sounded like there was a badger trying to eat a buzzing chainsaw in the hold. In order to escape, Rogers had fled to the tiny bunkroom and Bruce had gone into the galley to meditate for a little while. Sure that the sound would provoke either an episode, or force him to smother the demi-god with a pillow, he'd escaped into the cockpit.
He tossed the wrapper onto the dash, fingering the phone. He had a little bit of work to do when the small carrier landed. The transport needed to be made untraceable by SHIELD, so when they arrived in Italy he had to reconfigure the transmitters and codes. As far as SHIELD and affiliates would be concerned, the transport no longer existed. The carrier would be under the protection of JARVIS and Tony's private, unhackable networks, free and clear from any nosy groups. It was good to be a genius.
But that was for later. He had all night to watch the water, and look at his phone.
He glanced at the door. Everyone was asleep or otherwise engaged. It would probably be his only chance for awhile - Bruce could return at any moment. Tony didn't give a shit about how everyone would get pissed if he used his phone, but he didn't want an argument. He didn't really give a shit about anything, truth be told. He didn't care about where they were going, that he wasn't going to be alone, because none of it changed the fact he was leaving everything he had behind.
"So you're a man who has everything... and nothing," Yinsen's voice whispered.
"Maybe," he said. He was a man who only had belongings and a few people that he had no real claim to. Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, Bruce. The rest of the team. And now he was saying good-bye to three of them, forsaking some of the only real things he had in the world.
He turned on the device, slouching in the seat and putting his feet up on the dash. The little tablet booted up, and when Jarvis tried to speak he put him on mute. He'd be saying good-bye to Jarvis, too. Jesus. Even Dum-E and Butterfingers meant something to him, he'd had them since he'd graduated from MIT. He swore, twisting one hand through his hair. Why did the idea of leaving computers behind hurt so much? Maybe because he could talk to them without screwing shit up.
The screen glowed at him as the weather in Malibu, the current stock trends, and headlines scrolled past, making pictures and lines dance on the walls and dashboard.
"Pepper," he said.
Her picture appeared on the screen as it dialed. He imagined the signal bouncing around the world, untraceable, pinging from one tower to another as it found her, wherever she was.
The picture changed to a live feed. Pepper's face was pale, making her freckles stand out like little blazing sparks. A strand of hair draped over her face like a little ribbon of fire. He smiled, despite the fact she was making her worry face at him and he hadn't even spoken yet. He could recognize their silk and rayon sheets and the headboard.
"Anthony Stark, where are you?" she said, her eyes wide, voice edging on anger.
"Did you get married to Justin Hammer while I was away?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"What?"
"No one call's me Anthony except for that tool."
"Tony," she said, her voice edging towards the patented 'Pepper Growl.' He smiled - he wasn't sure why a tone that would normally make him sit up at attention was so welcome and refreshing, but it was. "I've been worried sick. What's been going on? There haven't been any aliens or attacks in the news, but-"
He cut her off before she could start ranting. "I can't get into it over the phone. Are you okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be? Everything's fine." If Fury was worth anything he already had agents on protective details in her office and several posted on buildings in clear view of the penthouse, watching her every move. He decided not to mention it to her. If SHIELD hadn't told her already she could stay blissfully unaware of the threat. She didn't need any more stress.
"That's good. Look, I'm going to be away for awhile. I'm being posted somewhere for a consulting gig. You're going to have to cancel that event thingy I have to do for the... um..."
"The demonstration you were going to give for the Clean Future Expo the arc reactor and Stark Towers, because Tony, you've been booked for months now-"
"Well, I meant that art thingy, but that's important too."
"The 'art thingy' I can get you out of," she said. "SHIELD's never had you posted anywhere before. What's going on?"
"Um... nothing. They just need me consulting, and-"
"Tony," she said, her eyes balancing between worry and frustration. "Would it kill you to talk to me for once? What's going on?"
"It's classified," he said, desperate for any kind of excuse. "So... when's that Milan thingy? I might need you to make a detour when you go."
"Milan's not for three more weeks," said Pepper. "SHIELD classified information has never stopped you before."
"Pep, please... I can't. Not over the phone. Now, I don't have any coordinates yet,but-"
"Tony, you can't call me in the middle of the damn night telling me to fly around the globe without so much as an apology for before or any kind of explanation."
Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. Pepper was frowning at him, but her voice was anxious when she spoke again.
"Tony, the last time you were this cryptic and vague you were dying. You're not... in trouble, are you?"
I'm going to be disappearing off of the face of the planet, MIA, declared dead, whatever you want to call it. I think I'm allowed to be out of character. He couldn't say any of it. "No. Just... I've gotta go. I'll send you the coordinates when I get them."
"Tony, you can't just-"
"Look, I can't get into it Pep. Things to do."
"You can't just blow me off like this Tony!"
"I'm sorry," he said, and before she could reply he hung up and switched off the phone.
Pepper's image was still burned into his retinas. He let out a slow breath. "I'm sorry. It's over. I'm not safe. I might hurt you. I'm not coming home. I can't." His imagination wasn't good enough to draw up any kind of graceful ending to that conversation. It was tempting to be a coward, to message her or something, to break it off, but he knew he'd hate himself pretty much for the rest of his life if he did.
He wondered if anyone had thought to bring booze, and longed to lose himself in the sinful haze of intoxication. Can I even get drunk? he wondered as he rubbed at his face.
There was a sound beyond the door. Without hesitating he shoved the phone into his pocket and slouched further in his seat, digging his hand absentmindedly though a box at his left side.
The door opened and Bruce appeared, along with a rising crescendo of noise from Thor's tortured nasal passages. He shut the door behind him, cutting off the buzz.
"He needs nasal strips or spray, or a good smothering. Seriously."
Bruce laughed as he sank into the other chair. "Not sleeping?"
"Bruce, between passing out in exhaustion and being tranquilized I'm fairly sure I've had enough sleep to last me the next three days or so."
They both chuckled together in the darkness as they looked out of the windshield. The silence that followed was companionable. Tony wouldn't admit it for the world, but Bruce's presence helped the claustrophobia that had begun to creep up again when the phone had shut off. It was good not to have to be alone.
"So what are the odds we're going to do any research while we're at Clint's villa?" asked Tony, resuming his fishing through the box.
"Not bad. They packed up some of the lab equipment. We've got a spectrometer, and a centrifuge, some microscopes... a few things we can use. No one really knew what to grab, but it could be worse, and Clint assured me that he could get me the enzymes we need for breaking down your DNA through the black market. We'll have to do everything else using your computer. There won't be any real synthesizing of cures without a proper lab."
"Ten floors of R&D and millions of dollars in lab equipment and lackey's to help, and we're stuck going on a vacation to a damn lake house and have to use less equipment than a high school Chemistry class," said Tony.
"I once made a centrifuge out of bicycle tires, an old electric moped engine and a dryer belt," said Bruce, patting Tony on the arm. "We'll be working in style."
Tony rolled his eyes. He pulled two protein bars out of the box and tossed one to Bruce. "Here. I have a perpetual case of the munchies."
"Thanks," said Bruce, ripping the wrapper open. "You've probably got a higher metabolism thanks to the increased regenerative abilities."
Tony shrugged, biting into the chewy bar. He wiggled his socked feet on the dash, staring at his toes. "You'd think with all the lab stuff they stole they could have stolen a pair of shoes for me. Or flip flops, even."
"They probably assumed you were already wearing them."
Tony huffed in annoyance.
Bruce waved his snack. "Where did you find these?"
"Rogers' stash."
Bruce snorted.
They ate their snacks, the crinkle of the wrappers and sounds of chewing were the only thing breaking the stillness. Tony secretly hoped that Barton had the sense to inform his housekeepers to stock up on munchies, because Rogers was about to run out of his supply.
When they ran out of food they discussed what was to come, both with and without the team, taking bets on how well they would live together, how long it would take for Natasha and Clint to admit they were sleeping together. They talked about meditation, breathing, that careful point which Bruce balanced upon between anger and serenity.
They did not discuss the anti-viral which would be so difficult to find, let alone synthesize, and instead focused on what they could touch and control until their voices ran out and there was nothing more than the hum of the circuitry all around them, the steady thrum of the engines, and the vast horizon and the cold moon splashing its light down onto the ocean.
Tony had angled his chair towards Bruce. He looked at him. Bruce's eyes were distant and contemplating as he looked out the windshield. Hope, Tony decided, was a really nice feeling.
Bruce sat up a little straighter. "Shooting stars."
Tony looked out the windshield as a meteor streaked over the horizon, bright and beautiful and sudden. Another two, both smaller but no less glorious, followed after it.
"Make a wish," said the physicist.
He glanced at Bruce. His brown eyes were serious, deep. Something was there, something that made him go dry mouthed, made him want to stop breathing.
Tony closed his eyes and made his wish.
`~+0+~`
"Ohmmmmmmmmm..."
"Tony."
"Bruce. You're throwing off my zen with your words."
Bruce sighed, opening his eyes. Tony's were still shut, but he was smirking. Candles filled the wide bedroom, dotting the patterned stone floor or over the furniture. Both of them were sitting in the lotus position on plush pillows they'd borrowed from Bruce's bed.
"Tony, I swear meditating does help."
"And it is helping. See? Meditating. Ohmmmmmmmm..."
"No. You're mocking me and my methods."
Tony looked up now, still looking amused. His eyes were black and glittering in the flickering candle light. "Sorry. I just don't see the point."
Bruce huffed. "I can control the Hulk better because I used meditation to get to this point."
"With other stuff. Besides, the wolf isn't always there gnawing at my mind."
That wasn't entirely true, even though Tony tried to wave all of that away and claimed nothing was different, but all of the other Avengers knew better. They'd been staying at the villa for a week, hardly enough time to claim complete control. And there was a matter of behavioral change that Bruce had never had to face.
"Humour me with actually trying," said Bruce.
Tony rolled his eyes before closing them again. He didn't make any more annoying 'ohm' sounds. Bruce had no problem with mantra's - when the user actually believed in them. Tony was thumbing his nose at him. It had been a struggle to get him to drink sencha green tea, and he'd only succeeded after dousing it with enough honey to satisfy Tony's stubborn palate.
Bruce had to rethink his methods, but he didn't want to give up on meditation just yet. Tony might not have rage gnawing away at the back of his mind the way Bruce did in every waking moment, but he did have something affecting the way he interacted with the others.
Back in the transport when they'd intercepted the others a Tony had gotten close to changing just because he'd seen Bruce hurt. It was the only possible stimulus that Bruce could figure out. The vehicle hadn't scared him, the flight hadn't scared him, nor the landing. That only left the blood and the injury. Add in the terrifying snarl when Steve and Natasha tried to touch him and there was no other conclusion that came close. He shuddered a little, remembering the black, dangerous look Tony had given Rogers, his lips peeled back in a snarl, his eyes silver and menacing. It had been like... like a dog or wolf, protecting a member of its pack. He'd glared at Natasha as well, Bruce remembered. The physicist didn't pretend to know anything about canine psyche's or pack dynamics, but he was itching to study a book on the subject. He was a little frustrated that the group had allowed satellite TV, but put a ban on Internet use, like Bruce hadn't gotten away with using it for years while he was on the run. He had half a mind to take the boat to the local town and find an Internet cafe. He couldn't ask the others about it, either. He didn't want Tony to know he was looking into his behavior, he doubted the other man would react well.
The other thing he wanted to study was Tony's increased senses of smell and hearing. Did it reach to other areas of his being? How had his biology changed to allow for an increased number of olfactory receptors? He'd heard of humans gaining training to follow scent trails, but the over-night development suggested something a lot more advanced than simply honing his latent abilities. He'd also said he could hear Bruce's heartbeat. Despite romance novels and fancy suggesting one could actually hear a pounding heart, doctor's needed stethoscopes for a reason.
Tony let out a slow breath, his head lolling down towards his chest. Bruce smiled. Maybe once Tony put his mind to something, he could -
"I just got the greatest idea. We need marshmallows, some PVC tubing, and one of Clint's bows."
Never mind.
"Alright, hopeless tonight," said Bruce, standing up. "Go on. Go do whatever mad idea you're planning now."
Tony opened his eyes, instantly repentant. "Nonono, I'm sorry Bruce, but when I relax I get ideas, and-"
Bruce rolled his eyes, blowing out candles. He gathered them as he went, setting them into a tray. He stopped at a hand wrapped tightly around his wrist and looked over his shoulder. Tony's eyes were imploring as he pouted. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just so boring."
Bruce sighed. "Tony, I'm trying to help you. For me to get better, it started with relaxation and meditation. Eventually I was able to work up to breathing techniques, but you've only been changed for a week. I can't just start teaching you Brazilian jiujitsu and slapping you off the hop - not if we want Clint's villa to stay in one piece."
Tony leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Bruce's shoulder. Bruce felt heat creeping up over his collar. Another strange quirk of Tony's was a desire for contact. Wherever Bruce went, Tony wasn't far behind. Eating at the table, watching a movie, working in the lab, Tony would always sidle up close, and seemed to relax at the slightest touch of Bruce's hand. It was starting to fuck with Bruce's self control. He'd developed a crush on Tony, which was ridiculous and unprofessional, and... and...
Tony made a little humming noise as he nuzzled Bruce's shoulder, and Bruce felt his hand wobble. He really had to figure out why Tony was so affectionate with him without really noticing what he was doing.
He fought to keep his voice even as he turned out of Tony's arms. "So what do you want to do then?"
"Let me try again," he said, one hand outstretched like it wanted to touch Bruce's arm. "Maybe out on the balcony?"
Bruce sighed, shrugging. "Fine."
cleaned up the candles together. The French doors which led onto the stone balcony were already thrown wide, the white curtains billowing gently in a light breeze which had swept up from the lake. They took their pillows outside.
Everything was stone in the beautiful mansion. Villa del All'alba, or House of the Dawn, was ridiculously large. It was built to a similar style as the Villa del Balbianello, a famous villa further down the coast of Lake Como. All'alba hugged a small peninsula that backed onto the forest, which swept up over the arms of the mountains behind them, cut off from civilization, which was how Barton liked it. Bruce had been awed over the size of the place, and marveled at how much the property must cost. Clint happily informed them that he'd turned down prominent billionaires who desired the place time and again. It was a relatively unknown landmark, being so far off the beaten path, and beautifully kept by a family who boated in once per week to do upkeep on the grounds.
Bruce looked up at the millions of stars dotting the sky. One thing about New York, and Kolkata, was that you never saw the stars. The moon, nearly full and smiling with some kind of secret on her round white face, hung above them, making spangles of light glitter on the water. Even from up on the third floor they could hear the gentle lap of the surf on the shoreline.
"Full moon tomorrow night," he said, throwing down the pillow.
Tony glanced up once, his brown eyes glittering in the faint light. "Don't expect me to howl."
Bruce smirked. According to Thor, the moon was another myth to be ticked off of the traditional werewolf lists. Several moons were visible both day and night on Asgard and had no bearing on transformations or changes in behavior.
The two of them sat back down. Bruce watched Tony get into the lotus position, looking grumpy about it. Bruce rolled his eyes. "Okay, how about you just try and get comfortable. Lie down, sit cross-legged - however you like."
"This is good," said Tony, pulling his foot up. "This is very... zen."
"Alright. Now, close your eyes."
Tony exaggerated a breath or two, before he relaxed, letting out a slow exhale. His shoulders drooped, head tilted forward slightly.
"Keep your spine as straight as you can," said Bruce, keeping his voice calm and soothing. "Now, focus on a calming sound. Your breathing, or maybe the sound of the lake. Ebb and flow, connecting the inside with the out. Keep your breathing focused and natural."
Tony refrained from sarcastic comments, though Bruce could imagine them floating through his brain. "Whenever your mind drifts focus back on your breathing. Ignore your thoughts, like they're just insects - brush them away and focus on your breathing."
Tony took long, easy breaths. Bruce listened to them, counting them. He watched as muscles in his face and arms relaxed, watched as his fingers curled in relaxation, his lips parted. Bruce smiled. Maybe Tony was actually doing this, or at least was keeping his half-cocked schemes to himself.
Tony claimed that he did not have the rage which stewed beneath Bruce's mind at all times. Fine. But there were other ways to tempt and calm the creature.
He'd planned on doing this eventually, but since they were outside he decided to go ahead with the plan. It was time to see how well developed Tony's senses were without high emotion or provocation. Bruce suspected they were merely latent or ignored - that Tony's strictly human consciousness chose not to comprehend it.
He slipped a knife out of his pocket. It was something he'd borrowed from Barton. A balisong, because apparently neither Clint or Natasha could own a normal legal knife that could be carried around in a pocket. He opened it carefully with both hands, lacking the skill to open it with a quick flick the way Barton showed him, and closed the latch on the handle. Staring at the straight, shiny blade, he took a slow breath of his own, holding up his left hand, and pricked the pad of his index finger.
A bead of blood welled up and he fought the urge to stick his finger in his mouth, ignored the brief tremor pain, and held his hand up.
The change which came over Tony was subtle. A minute tremor made his back twitch, and his fingers tightened on his knees as his brow furrowed.
"In..." said Bruce, calmly, like he was meditating as well, "and out."
Tony swallowed, nodding his head, his eyebrows now in a hard line.
The bead of blood grew larger. Bruce stirred the air with his other hand, wafting the scent towards Tony. The other man's breath hitched and his hands bean to shake. Bruce watched, fascinated, as the engineer fought to still the quiver of his body.
After another moment he opened his eyes, which were too bright in the darkness. His eyes zeroed in on Bruce's hand and he grimaced, his tongue pressing behind his teeth, which looked sharp. "What are you doing?"
"Testing you."
"By bleeding?" Tony's words hissed between his teeth, like he was afraid of opening his mouth.
"You wanted to be tested, so I'm testing you."
Tony closed his eyes, curling over himself, palms flat against the polished stone that floored the balcony. He took a deep breath. "You don't know what it's doing to me."
Bruce had a fair idea. "Tell me so I'll understand."
The blood trickled over the pad of his finger. The innocuous drop fell, hitting the stone with a sound that wasn't audible, at least to him, but Tony's eyes opened, found it unerringly. He focused on that tiny dark spot. Eyes that were too bright in the darkness now took on a silver sheen, like an animal's eyes in the dark, flickering back in the shadows.
"It... it's weird. It... fucks me up."
"How?"
"It gets close. The wolf. But not. I can't explain it. The smell sets my teeth on edge, makes me want to..."
"Want to what?"
Tony shook his head, closing his eyes. He turned and pressed his head against the railings on the deck, nudging his forehead between them, as if trying to hide himself or get away. Sweat was beading on his temple as he let out a shuddering breath.
"What does it make you want to do?"
Tony's head shook minutely. "It's horrid."
"No. It's not."
Tony let out an explosive breath. "Fuck."
"Tony, tell me."
"It makes me want to... hunt. I guess that's the word. Hunt."
"Like... prey?"
"Not like that! I don't want to... I don't know! I want to run, I want to hunt, I want to... damn. Fuck." He glanced back at the drop. "Alright, clean that up, now. Clean it up!"
"Tony, this is about pushing the limits."
Tony growled low under his breath, the sound growing more feral near the end. "It... I dunno. It doesn't just... fuck. It's dangerous. If someone walked in right now..."
"Why?"
Tony looked over, his eyes haunted. "It's not just that it's blood. It's y- it's.. never mind. I don't know why, but it's, I... fuck, don't make me say it, Bruce. I just don't think I could stop myself. If someone did something wrong. I'd lose it."
Bruce mopped up the drop of blood and stowed the soiled napkin in his pocket. He heard what Tony didn't say. It wasn't that Bruce would do something wrong, it was someone else. More protection? He decided not to push it and put his finger in his mouth. He'd forgotten to bring anything so sensible as a band-aid.
"Now, relax again, and breathe."
"Bruce..."
"Tony, trust me," he mumbled around his finger.
With what seemed like a Herculean effort Tony pulled away from the railings, his eyes a little calmer, and he sat back down on his cushion. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out through his mouth. It took a few minutes - in through the nose, out through the mouth - before Tony seemed visibly relaxed. He slumped after awhile, letting out a long, shuddering sigh, and opened his eyes, which were glassy and tired.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Bruce was getting used to his apologies. A week ago an apology from Tony came with a ten minute speech that didn't contain anything remotely resembling the word 'sorry' and a lot of 'I's.' Now every time he showed some kind of action that demonstrated his mutation he was quick with them. Went with the territory, he supposed. Turning into a raging beast seemed to bring about a tendency to guilt.
"I should apologize for throwing that on you."
Tony shook his head. "Progress is progress. Next time you spring it on me maybe I'll be okay. Although I could do without you, y'know, hurting yourself." His eyes were anxious.
Bruce smiled. "Of course."
They got up. Rather, Bruce did, and helped up the other man, who leaned heavily on him. Tony was rarely seen to go to bed before two in the morning, but now, judging by the way he whimpered, it seemed the exertion of mental control was a bit much and he wondered how far he'd pushed the poor man. He hadn't meant for a single drop of blood to do so much to him.
He led him into the bedroom and tossed his pillow on the wide queen sized bed. In the last week this wasn't the first time Tony had crashed here. It was Bruce's room - Tony's was just across the hall - but the man's need for perpetual reassurance seemed to extend to when he slept, so Bruce didn't bother claiming there was some kind of boundary, even though Tony seemed anxious not to cross it and guilty when he did.
"Down you go," said Bruce, letting Tony fall onto the soft mattress.
Tony grunted, his brown eyes blinking dumbly in the poor light. "You staying?"
"I'm going to have some tea. I'll be back up soon," he promised.
Tony smiled, nodding. "'Kay." His eyes were shut and his jaw cracked in a yawn. "Stupid meditating. Got me all fucking exhausted."
"Right."
Tony smirked.
Bruce left him alone after shutting the balcony doors. Tony didn't move, either already asleep or very nearly there.
He made his way down a spiraling stone staircase past stained glass gothic windows. The moonlight splashed through them, casting dark coloured patterns on the walls. The upper floors were traditional with updated bathrooms, but the lower floors were somewhat modified, a mixture of old and new.
He glanced into the living room as he passed. Blue light from the big screen TV threw shadows over the room. On the screen a cowboy figurine was yelling at a space man.
"I still do not understand. Are these toys imbued with magic? My brother Loki once did something similar when we were but small children in the nursery..."
From the spacious kitchen he could still see the light from the TV as he busied himself looking through cupboards for the boxes of tea and mugs. The kettle sang and he made himself a cup of chamomile tea, listening to the sounds of the movie. He'd never seen Toy Story before, but he recognized the characters from when Tony had forced the entire team to endure a day at Disney Land "For the cap and Thor's sakes!"
Avoiding any angle that might put himself in view of the living room he let himself out into the darkness of the garden. His feet traced a familiar path which lead him past an ornate fountain and to a small bench nestled beside a wall draped with bougainvillea. In the day the tree would be bright with thousands of purple blossoms, but now it was dark and shadowy. He slipped down onto the cool bench, curling his legs up, cupping the mug of tea as he inhaled the steam. He stared at the twinkling of lights from far off villages and homes, listened to the absolute silence, and wondered what it all meant.
He thought about Tony's nuzzlings and felt a little curl of warmth in the pit of his stomach. Bruce covered his face with his hand, sucking in a breath. This was stupid, and wrong, and Tony was just messed up. There was no way it could work, and there was Pepper to consider, not just Tony's condition and how badly that kind of contact could end.
He'd have to draw a line. As soon as possible. But how come it hurt so bad?
`~+0+~`
Till next time, which I promise won't take so long. Maybe a few days?