Title: Make it Easy
Author: ELLE
Pairings/Warnings: Bruce/Tony, canon-compliant violence, implied sexual situations, explicit language
Notes: Completed for Science Bros Secret Santa 2015.
The smell of burning fuel filled his nostrils, the sound of explosions rang in his ears, the vibrations of war rumbled under his feet and Hulk grinned because this was chaos and this was suffering and this was what he was made for. Large green fingers grabbed the grill of a military vehicle, pushed their way into the slots of metal and forced them apart, rending the vehicle in two. Heavy breath came through flared nostrils as his better-than-human eyes surveyed the scene.
They were close – or at least, he knew that's what they said from Banner but he also knew Banner was skeptical and he was even more so. Every time they went into one of these battles they were "close." But Hulk didn't mind. Hulk was good at this, Hulk was useful. He reached out and grabbed a man with a gun from a moving vehicle as he took aim at the Spider, throwing the man across the landscape in one elegant motion as he turned and brought his fist down on the vehicle, crushing it into mangled submission.
Streaks of light burst across the night sky like strings of lights on the highway and for a moment Hulk followed them with his head, watching, knowing it was the Metal Man flying around up there, the one that was important to him. Hulk snorted and cleared his head, refocused his anger and surveyed the scene before him.
It wasn't here and they weren't getting any information – he could tell by the way the blonde one looked so frustrated as he recalled his hammer – but Hulk didn't particularly care. But things were winding down, he could tell, and there was always that gripping disappointment that made it hard to let go. Hulk didn't want to have to 'go away.' He wanted this – all of the time, always.
His fingers crunched absently through the remains of the vehicle he'd immobilized moments earlier, watching with impatient huffs for something more. And then, unfortunately, he got it.
There was a rapid succession of gunfire that burst across the sky, disrupting the predictable pattern of light from Metal Man's suit, followed by a massive explosion. Hulk could feel the heat of it, the brightness momentarily blinding him, and he shook his head, trying to clear the uncomfortable sensation, anger surging through him at the unanticipated attack.
Quickly he did an assessment of the others as he moved forward towards the blast, but then he caught that drag of lights, that weird pattern from Metal Man's thrusters, and then another sound, distinct, what he knew the rest of them called an RPG. There was a blast when it hit and for a minute Metal Man's lights disappeared.
And then Hulk lost it.
Without a moment's hesitation he began moving in his direction, tearing through abandoned and broken vehicles, trees, anything that stood in his way. Great nostrils sucked in air, trying to catch the smell of him through the gun powder and twisted metal and leaking gasoline. There was a flicker of lights as Metal Man tried to remain airborne and Hulk followed, watching as he flitted down across the valley.
When his lights disappeared completely in the long grass it didn't matter because Hulk was already there, a mile away from the fight and the smell of him was obvious as the distance increased – metal and fire and heat standing out amongst cool, dry earth. And he picked the man in the suit up without a second thought, cradling him in his monstrous arms and running – running and taking him away from there.
It was easy for Hulk to spot the safe places. He could hear road traffic north and so he headed south, he could smell where the earth was disturbed and where no one had walked since the last time it rained, he could see shades of darkness – what was merely hidden by the dusk and what was truly empty. And in that way, he found a hole.
The hole was really more of a burrow, a shallow indention in the ground built up by falling trees and foliage in a forest of unremarkable size miles and miles away from the team. Safe. Hidden. Where no one would hurt him.
Gently, more gently than one would expect, he lay Metal Man down in the darkness, scanning over him in distress, unsure what he should do. The lights were faint and uncertain and Hulk knew nothing about this – though he knew who did.
He whined through his teeth, pounded a fist into the ground and pressed it hard into the dirt. Impressions of his fingers were left in the mire, frustration and worry flooding the little hidey-hole he'd found.
Nothing about the suit looked right – it wasn't red enough, it wasn't smooth enough – and Hulk took one finger and tapped the helmet. Banner buzzed in the back of his mind as Metal Man's head rocked back and forth.
Hulk growled like a wounded animal as he shoved at him again, afraid to make too much noise but unsure of how to make Metal Man move. He knew Banner could but – but...
As Bruce came to he was already crawling towards Tony, hands shaking from transformation and fear as he fumbled to release the manual latches on the suit – some of which were too busted to trigger and some that buckled and snapped under the strain.
He didn't have the benefit of superhuman eyesight and it was difficult to see but he got Tony's headpiece off and half of his face was covered in blood where the force of the explosion twisted the seams inward, cutting into his face. Bruce's fingers trailed down to the chest plate as he whispered Tony's name, voice wavering and violent in the absolute quiet.
Tony was breathing, he'd checked, but it was shallow and there were so many things... The suit was wonderful but it wasn't meant to take a blast like that full force. He could be concussed, there could be swelling, brain injury, pressure related injuries to any and all of his organs, contusion, broken bones – and that was just the beginning. They were who the fuck knew where and Bruce had no way to communicate with anyone and Tony could die of internal bleeding out here and he would be helpless, absolutely fucking helpless.
Bruce felt a sob welling up in his throat as panic clawed at his stomach, making him feel sick. He just – he just thought – but fuck what an idiot he was stupid to ever buy into Tony's naive notion that the Hulk would protect him. He couldn't protect him from everything.
The goddamn latch on his chest plate wouldn't release and Bruce pressed at his eyes with the back of his palms as he tried to push back the frustrated tears that were threatening. He just – he just needed this fucking latch to release, he needed to get Tony out of the suit, give him room to breathe, to assess the damages.
Finally Tony moaned as Bruce pulled a little too hard removing part of the chest plate and relief rushed through Bruce. He dropped the piece of Tony's suit and met his eyes as they cracked open, whole face knit together in pain, but Bruce was just so unbelievably ecstatic that his hands, still shaking, found Tony's face and he kissed him – hard, probably too hard considering but holy shit.
He could taste blood and smoke and sweat and it didn't matter he just – he just needed Tony to know. Bruce was hard and desperate and he wanted – he wanted to be in that big bed in the tower with the white sheets and the black out curtains and he wanted to bury himself in Tony until he couldn't go any deeper, until he couldn't feel anything but Tony surrounding him, encompassing him, moving beneath him as if they were one living organism and each of his breaths was their breath and he was safe and warm and alive.
Tony whimpered beneath his aggression and Bruce tried to back off but he was a mess of adrenaline and fear and neediness and he realized he was crying a little and he hated it and he hoped Tony couldn't tell in the dark or maybe Tony wasn't even lucid enough but fucking shit – what was he doing?
"Not that I – don't – appreciate," Tony tried, his voice rough and soft and almost not there at all and Bruce choked and he hated himself.
"Shhh, shhh," he begged as his thumb stroked at the undamaged side of Tony's face, staring at him until he could believe he was really alive.
"Where...?" he asked as he coughed, pain clouding his face in a way that made Bruce's chest tight.
"Let's focus on you first," Bruce stalled, unsure what to tell him when he had no idea where they were. "You – you could have internal bleeding."
"Haven't coughed up blood yet," he murmured and winced as he tried to move. "Ribs – bruised? Hopefully."
Gingerly Bruce lifted Tony's shirt and frowned as he noted the bruising, not easy to see in the darkness but then his skin was so pale, the sickly splotches and broken blood vessels that were spread across the right side of his rib cage stood out even though they were only in the beginning stages. It was going to be ugly tomorrow that was for sure.
Tony gasped as he touched them but nothing seemed broken, not that there was anything he could do if they were but at least it meant no sharp bone to pierce organs.
"Suit should've – buffered," Tony tried, wincing and laying his head back against the ground – clearly uncomfortable but more comfortable than moving.
"Please don't," Bruce offered with a poorly attempted smile, brain still racing, still scared but a little more confident with every passing minute.
"Where are we?" Tony repeated after a moment of silence and Bruce couldn't avoid it, he had to say it but he really didn't want to say it. "I remember... being hit."
"I don't know," Bruce admitted, wanting to lay down against him and press himself up against Tony and have it be okay. "The other guy... He took you."
Tony raised a questioning brow and Bruce shot back an irritated look he wasn't sure Tony could even see. Like he could possibly justify or explain anything his alter ego did.
"I don't – I don't know how anyone will find us," Bruce said, deflating as he did so, glad he was with Tony to make sure he was safe but simultaneously wishing he was anywhere but here with these looming implications.
"Suit – has a tracker," Tony offered, still short of breath or just in so much pain he couldn't manage whole sentences. "Gotta make sure it's on."
Bruce stared at the multiple parts. He knew some features of the suit but Tony didn't let anyone too close – not even him – and he wasn't even sure where to start. Engineering, materials engineering, wasn't exactly his forte.
"Helmet," Tony offered and Bruce reached for it, following Tony's short instructions to make sure the tracker was on with the reserve energy left specifically for that purpose.
When they were done, Tony closed his eyes for a moment and his breathing evened out and Bruce was sure he was asleep and he gripped the helmet between his hands so hard his fingers hurt. Emotions still buffeted him, emotions he tried to keep tamped down but this was too close – way too close. If it weren't for Tony's obsessive nature, if it weren't for this helmet, the back-up power...
He was a liability. He was still a liability.
"Stop," Tony breathed, obviously not asleep but his voice sounded less strained. "Big guy was just looking out for me."
"If you didn't – he could've killed you," Bruce almost whispered but he was so angry – at himself, at the other guy – that he couldn't keep his voice down. "Maybe Veronica..."
But the words died on his tongue. He didn't want it and he sure as hell didn't want to say it. A personal tracker was an awful, awful idea if he ever wasn't under the protection of Tony Stark and he knew enough about life to know that nothing ever lasted. But at least they would be able to find him if the other guy insisted on 'looking out' for Tony any time he got injured. And really, Bruce could heal – but as long as they had the relationship they did, as long as the other guy felt some kind of affection for him, it was Tony's life that would be in danger. And they'd already agreed he would access Veronica in the event of... an event. So it stood to reason he had some decision making power over –
"Don't even think it," Tony interrupted his thoughts once he interpreted Bruce's meaning. "Never gonna happen."
"But –" Bruce wanted to argue, almost for the sake of arguing but more because he was offering Tony something big here and he wanted him to appreciate it, to truly think about it.
"Never," Tony repeated, soft but certain.
Bruce looked down at his face, bloody and black. It looked so peaceful, so calm. So often his face was a mask of bravado or elitism or professional curiosity or boredom. But now, here in this foliage filled hole after being blown up and drug miles away, he seemed more at ease, more assured than he ever did at home. And it made Bruce feel okay, too.
"I'd never do that to you," Tony continued, opening his eyes to make sure Bruce was listening. "Everyone wants me to give up my autonomy and... they're probably right. But you? I'd never do that to you."
Bruce chewed at the inside of his cheek as he moved closer and bent down so that his forehead touched Tony's, the only way he figured he could touch him without causing him pain. He was breathing hard, the three words they never said to one another heavy in his mouth and god, he wanted to say them – because he meant them and because what else could he say? But they felt paltry and inadequate compared to what Tony offered and maybe it was too much to say it, maybe it was a mistake. And maybe it didn't matter anyway because maybe he'd already said them when he let Tony make the call.
But Tony, as always, seemed to know what was in his mind. And Tony – he made it easy.
"I know," he said, just a breath, breathing shallow again, like sleep.
"You –" Bruce choked. "You shouldn't sleep."
"I know," Tony repeated. "So tell me a story, Big Guy. Keep me awake 'til they come."