Vital Communication Chapter 11
Disclaimer – lost track of my verses...ah well, onward!
AN – TRIGGER WARNING – brief description of a nightmare event at the end, feel free to skip the last quarter of the chapter. I'll stick a mark in there for where it begins.
Days later, Bruce is working in his lab, still drawing up details on a Hulk Room, when Tony bursts in, causing the stylus in Bruce's hand to light a jagged line across the three dimensional space glowing before him.
"Bruce! There you are! You still working on that? C'mon, Steve's called, needs a pick up from somewhere out in BFE," Tony rattles around Bruce like an erratic satellite does its primary, poking at the 3D drawing. "Huh, nice place. Looks very Zen. Is this for you, or Green Jeans?", Tony's poking exposes the room in parts and he expands a few sections.
"Um," Bruce stalls, fiddling with the stylus nervously. Tony takes a good, long look at the dimensions of certain pieces and realizes everything.
"It is for the Hulk! Damn Banner, that's one tricked out room! What is that, a pool? Hulk swims?" Tony laughs. Bruce's cheeks pink a little in embarrassment but he won't back down on this.
"We find it useful to burn off the adrenaline if its not otherwise used up," Bruce told him, then damn near slapped a hand to his forehead for the slip.
"We?" Tony asked, but was interrupted by Clint and Natasha coming to the door of the lab.
"Stark! I'm going to get Rogers. Can you provide transport?", Clint asked.
"Yeah bird brain, I've got something you can fly. Just gotta call the hangar. We're not done, Banner!", Tony said, letting himself get swept away by the two SHIELD agents. Bruce breathed a small sigh of relief when all 3 had left. He cleared the 3D modeling and called up the files on the Iron Man armor to tinker with for a few hours.
All too soon, Tony's back, all boundless enthusiasm like a Labrador puppy. "Ooh, the armor? Cool, we can work on that", Tony sounded gleeful. Bruce was happy to have successfully distracted him, knowing it wouldn't last long. At one point, they have to go up to one of Tony's labs where he worked on the suit to utilize the tables where the parts were spread out.
Tony was working on an electrical relay, soldering iron in hand and magnification goggles on his face when the relay flashed, puffing up smoke and sparks. "Sonnofabitch!" he cursed, flailing away from the table in surprise. The iron skittered off the table to the floor.
"Tony?", Bruce looked up from his notes on one of the displays.
"M'fine," Tony said, trying to collect himself.
"No, you're not. What happened?" Bruce got up, and walked to the other man's station. He saw the slagged relay and scorch marks, and followed the cord to the still hot soldering iron on the floor. He went around the corner of the table and picked it up, turning it off before setting it back on its cradle.
"Stupid relay slagged," Tony half-heartedly explained. He hated admitting mistakes. Bruce looked at the genius, taking in signs of exhaustion clearly marking his friend's face.
'Damn', he thought. "Okay, and when was the last time you got any sleep?", Bruce wasn't comfortable with the idea that Tony wasn't getting any rest, probably over this still unresolved military thing.
"Hmm, don'member," and now Bruce could tell the adrenaline was wearing off as Tony's words were slurring together.
"JARVIS?" Bruce queries.
"Sir, Mr. Stark hasn't had more than one 20 minute power nap in the last 36 hours. Nor has he eaten more than peanut butter and marshmallow fluff for sustenance," JARVIS would see his primary function carried out.
Bruce quickly makes a decision. "Save all this please, JARVIS. Tony's going to bed after I feed him," he instructs the AI.
"Very good sir," and JARVIS fairly hums with pleasure. He realized he'd just found a kindred spirit in keeping Tony sane and whole.
The holograms and digital files disappeared and the lab lights start shutting off as Bruce maneuvers to haul Tony out bodily.
"Nuu Bruce," Tony tries to resist, but at that point, it was like resisting the tide. Bruce throws his right arm around Tony's back and lifts him from the rolling task chair. For all his unassuming postures and habits, Bruce is rather strong, and had been for a long time.
"C'mon sleepy. We're closer to my room and I know I can put together something better than PB and Fluffernutter," Bruce makes a face. That was a college food, suitable for late night cram sessions or the hole between funding. Not for keeping this egotistical genius with more money than sense functioning. Tony was definitely sleep deprived, he broke into giggles at "Fluffernutter".
Bruce maneuvered the pair of them to the elevator and punched the print scanner long enough for it to register his presence. The elevator obediently rose to the last available floor before the security system (JARVIS) required Tony's or Pepper's input. Bruce figured he could corral Tony into at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Longer if he contacted Pepper. He contemplated that, glancing at Tony's face, currently smooshed against his collarbone. The exhaustion was even more pronounced this close. Tony's nearly amber eyes were glazed with fatigue and his skin tone was grayed out.
'Ah Tony, are we worth this?', he thought to himself, carefully keeping the thought from reaching the Hulk.
"C'mon Bruce, we weren't done!", Tony whined, wriggling in Bruce's arms. He sounded all of six years old.
"Tony, stop it. A nap lasting longer than an hour won't kill you," Bruce insisted, tightening his hold to convince the other man to stop moving before Bruce dropped him.
Bruce got Tony to his apartment, thankfully located closer to the elevator than the one on the 30th floor had been, and unceremoniously dumped the engineer on the couch. "Stay there, while I start some food in the kitchen. JARVIS, contact Pepper for me please?", Bruce sighed, moving into the open kitchen.
"Right away Doctor," was the AI's reply. He was grateful to have the continued presence of the AI, as he found the intelligent system useful in keeping up with Tony. Bruce's rummaging in the fridge turned up cold cuts to turn out club sandwiches and he discovered caffeine free soda.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, bless JARVIS. He fished it out, in between slathering slices of bread with mayo.
"Pepper?", he asked, answering it.
"Hey Bruce. JARVIS said you needed me?" she queried, curious, and a tiny bit worried.
"Yeah, um Tony's wiped out, and I ah...have him here in my place to get some sleep. If that's all right?", Bruce was nervous. He'd not had to make such a unilateral decision for anyone else outside of himself and was unsure how she'd take his presumption.
"You got him to leave the labs?", Pepper couldn't mask the shock in her voice.
"Well..." Bruce demurred, "I hauled him out bodily, to be honest. After a small incident with a relay."
"What?" Pepper was concerned now, "Is he okay?"
"Yeah, fine. Just, he needs sleep. Does he need to do anything SI related this afternoon?", Bruce asked.
"No, his schedule's been clear again since the Incident," She sighs, she hadn't known he'd been staying up all hours again, too busy with other matters. "Bruce? Can you look after him for me? It's a hell of a thing to ask, you must have work of your own."
"No, not really. Hadn't started any experiments, and the work I was doing was either on the Hulk Room or on the armor. It'll keep for babysitting," Bruce reassured her.
She snorted at his choice of words. "And Natalie and Clint?" she asked.
"At least Clint went to get Captain Rogers. I think Natalie went to get him past the crew at the hangar," Bruce was guessing, but it made sense. Natasha had reactivated her persona "Natalie Rushman" to act as Pepper's PA, mostly working on the security issue, and as liaison between Pepper and Tony. Clint had come aboard Stark Industries as a "jack of all trades", and worked mostly as an analyst, who was helping them figure out where they could make other changes. The pair were making huge strides on getting to the bottom of the military problem, and ferreting out other issues besides. But it didn't mean Tony had to be sacrificing himself like this. They were a team, and everyone could help, somehow.
"Okay, I'll try her cell next. Thanks Bruce, I appreciate it," and there was an undercurrent to Pepper's thanks that Bruce could not figure out right then.
"No problem. I'll wake him for the dinner meeting we had planned. I'm still cooking, right?", he tried for lightness, when he knew something had made Pepper a little sad.
"Sure, you promised something Jamaican, as I recall. See you at 6," Pepper disconnected the call, leaving Bruce feeling vaguely discomfited by the whole conversation. He put the phone on the bar, and finished the sandwiches. Grabbing 2 root beers, he went back to the couch, finding Tony mostly asleep.
"Tony," he called, nudging the other man with his foot.
"Hmph?", Tony grunts, trying to claw his way to consciousness.
"Food. Eat, then I'll let you sleep for awhile," Bruce told him, handing over a plate and depositing the bottles on the coffee table.
"Don'wanna", Tony half-heartedly protested, even with a fourth of the club in his hands, and two bites taken out of it.
"I know, but do this for me, okay?", Bruce was unsure why he was trying to convince the man. But honestly, when he couldn't look after himself, someone had to!
The clarity of that thought had Bruce pausing, bottle of root beer halfway to his mouth. That's what was wrong with Pepper. She hadn't known Tony'd gotten this bad, and was feeling guilt? Maybe. He took a long pull from the soda, draining half of it. He'd worry about that later, probably during the dinner meeting.
Tony managed 3/4 of the sandwich and half of his own soda before he shoved the plate onto the table and listed sideways. "Happy?", he grunted.
Bruce finished his sandwich and root beer, and left the plate on the table. "Good enough, Tony. Now, you can stay out here, or use a bed," he offered.
"Bed?", Tony groaned, loosing the battle to stay awake fast.
"Okay, guest room it is. Let's go, Tony," he stood and reached for the other man, hooking his hands around his chest to haul the younger* man upright. Chest to chest, they stood there, while Bruce got coordinated enough to shuffle out from between the table and couch. He ended up holding Tony tighter to kick the table away. The increased closeness made Tony hum in pleasure. Bruce's body temperature was quite warm, and Tony reacted in the haze of his sleepiness to burrow. Bruce's ears pinked, but he just manipulated the mostly asleep genius to his spare bedroom and to the bed. He managed the covers without losing Tony, and then got the man out of his shoes, belt and pants before forcing him to lay back and down. As he drew the blankets into place, he had his wrists caught. Looking down, he saw Tony staring at him through his lashes.
"Thanks", he mumbled.
"Go to sleep, Tony. I'll be out in the living room," Bruce softly commands. Tony curls on his side and is out like a light. Bruce goes back to the living room and finishes off the last of Tony's food before putting the plates in the kitchen and the bottles into the recycling bin. He settled back on the couch and found the paperback he'd been reading on and off between medical journals.
"JARVIS", he started to say, as an afterthought.
"I will alert you with plenty of time to wake Mr Stark," JARVIS promised, without having to be asked.
"Thank you," and Bruce lost himself in "The Two Towers" for a couple of hours.
TRIGGERING CONTENT
Small, slight noises eventually pull Bruce from the land Tolkien created. He cocks his head to one side, trying to identify the sounds. It quiets down for just a moment, and Bruce shrugs and cracks the paperback back open. Before he can find his place, there's a scream from the guest bedroom that has him up off the couch like a shot. He moves quickly, covering the short distance and gets into the room to see Tony flailing in the bed, sheets wrapped around his body like he'd been mummified.
"Tony?" Bruce asks, worried. There was no one else in the room. Tony screamed again, panicked and pained. Bruce moved over to the bed, to attempt to wake the other man. However, Tony's flailing kept him from getting too close without restraining him. The low level sounds Tony is making resolve into occasional words.
"No, Yinsen! You can't. No. Stop. You can't." And Tony screams again, fingers of both hands now clawing at the arc reactor. His face scrunched up in anger? No, fear.
Bruce moves in now, to grab his wrists, but that just makes Tony fight harder. Bruce clicks his tongue in frustration, wraps one hand around both wrists and almost literally climbs up Tony's wildly moving body.
"This is like dealing with an eel, Tony. Come on, wake up," Bruce cajoles, firmly sitting behind Tony to wrap an arm around the other's upper arms and chest. Tony continues to flail, eyes closed tight against the memory nightmare. He grunts, realizing that Bruce, or someone has hold of him, though still not aware of his surroundings. The repetitiveness of denial drips from Tony's mouth in a never ending spiral of self hatred, and pain that rips at Bruce and wakens Hulk from his own somnolence.
Now, Bruce possibly has two fights on his hands. He immediately changes tactics. Instead of fighting Tony's flailing, he rolls with it. He knows he'll come up bruises later, but thinks it'll be worth it. This is only a small bit of reparation for the kindness this man has shown him thus far.
"Tony. Tony, shh. It's okay. You're all right. You're safe. This isn't the cave. You're at home," Bruce repeats over and over. Part of what he's saying is for Tony, part for the Hulk, all for all three of them. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Tony calms down. The mutterings stumbling into silence. His body's movements slowing and eventually stilling. Tony eventually lay completely lax in the circle of Bruce's arms. His skin covered in a fine sweat, hair plastered to his head. He breathed softly in the relaxed manner of someone deeply asleep.
END TRIGGERY CONTENT
Bruce shifted, readjusting Tony's limp form in his grip. He'll stay, letting Tony sleep comfortably, before slipping out 30 minutes before Tony needed to be awake. Hopefully, Tony would never know this happened. He'd deal with whatever bruises appeared on his own, thankful he'd not been struck in the face.
*- According to the Marvel Movie-verse wiki, Bruce is the older by 5 months. If I said otherwise in an earlier chapter, I was wrong, and it ought to be corrected. That will happen someday :3
