We Might Be Radioactive

Chapter 5

In the morning, Aunt May got up early and made an expansive breakfast of eggs, potatoes, bacon, toast - a feast. She didn't mention the apartment fire and neither did Peter, but as she buttered the toast he caught a significant look from her that he recognized: the I'm proud of you but please don't die look. Peter cleared his throat. Someday, he was going to tell her outright. Someday.

But Peter had other things on his mind. He had fallen straight to sleep after coming home but it had been restless, full of vibrant dreams made of flames and fingers and a heartbeat close to his ear. He woke in the morning with the sensation of a hand resting on the back of his neck, his body battered yet full of anxious energy. It was Steve that had dragged him away from the burning building, Steve that had looked after him, but all he could think about was Bruce holed up in Stark Tower, disappointed and waiting for him.

"So," Peter said as he poured two glasses of orange juice. "I met this guy yesterday."

Aunt May stopped dishing eggs onto the plates and cast a glance at him. He recognized that look, too: it was I knew it. Her knowing eyes more than anything the night before put coals in his stomach. He took a quick gulp of orange juice. "Um, he works at Stark Tower," he went on. "He's a scientist."

"Oh!" Aunt May blushed a little as she finished dividing the food and brought both plates to the table. "Really? Stark Tower?" Her eyes twinkled. "Not Mr. Stark himself, I assume."

"Naw. Not yet." He winked at her. "But he says I have potential. I was thinking maybe I'd ask him about doing an internship this summer, or something."

"That would be fantastic," said Aunt May with full enthusiasm. "Maybe even a paid internship?"

Peter chuckled. "Well, I don't know. I haven't even asked him yet." He started to eat. "But either way I'll get a job. Maybe Stark Tower needs a janitor?"

"Oh, Peter. I think you can do better than that."

They chatted through breakfast, amusing themselves with the possibilities, and Peter felt a lot better up until it was time to leave for school. At the door Aunt May squeezed his hand with both of hers and looked him full in the face. "I love you, Peter," she said seriously. "No matter what. You know that, right?"

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat - was it possible to hide anything from her? "Of course." He kissed her cheek. "I love you, too, Aunt May."

Monday passed as any high school Monday. Between third and fourth period Gwen caught his eye, and they snuck to a quiet section of the hall near the A/V lab. "I saw you on the news last night," she said. She was making that same face Aunt May made so often. "That was really amazing."

"Thanks." Peter smiled and hoped it looked sincere. Just talking to Gwen, being around her smile, her wide eyes, and her blond hair, was muddling his brain all over again. "Oh, um, hey." He scratched the back of his neck. "Do you remember I asked you about that scientist, Bruce? I found out his name is Banner. Dr. Bruce Banner. I tried looking him up and got nowhere."

Gwen pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Still doesn't ring any bells. But I can ask around, if you want."

"You don't have to do that," Peter said quickly. "I know it's-"

"No, it's okay." She took a deep breath and nodded to herself. "If it'll help, I want to do it. I'll let you know."

"Okay. Thanks." Peter struggled awkwardly. There was still so much he wanted to say and ask, and Gwen was the closest he had to a real confidant, but even considering laying more of his baggage on her made him sick. "I'll talk to you later."

They separated, and Peter was sure she looked back, but he couldn't do the same.

Peter told himself not to go back right away. The smart thing would have been to stay home for a night or two, take a breather, sort himself out. He could work it out just like poring over a science project or a missing equation. So of course as soon as Aunt May went to bed Peter suited up and headed for Manhattan.

It was later than usual when he arrived, but there was still one floor lit up among the lab floors of Stark Tower and a window open. Peter gulped back the butterflies and hopped lightly onto the sill. "Hello?"

Bruce was at his desk, as always, hunched over his computer. He perked immediately at the sound of Peter's voice and turned, his face lighting up so brightly it gave Peter second-hand embarrassment. It felt good, though, making someone's night just by showing up. He climbed inside as Bruce moved to greet him.

"Peter!" Bruce stopped well within Peter's personal space and touched his neck with both hands, as if trying to get a good look at him despite the mask. "Are you all right? I'm glad you're here, but I didn't expect to see you so soon, after what Steve told us."

Peter suddenly wished he'd done a better job of eavesdropping, but that concern quickly faded beneath the pressure of Bruce's hands. Bruce had touched him a dozen times in the past several days, often around his shoulders and neck, but Peter's realization changed everything. Bruce liked touching him. He liked being touched. It was warm and welcoming and daunting, and it took a great deal of will power just to get his voice past his throat.

"I'm fine," said Peter. "I don't know what he told you, but it wasn't all that bad, really. Just a few nasty bumps and some smoke." His hands fidgeted at his sides. "Sorry I missed you."

"Don't worry about that - I'm just glad you're all right." Bruce gave the back of Peter's neck a squeeze. "Tony's upstairs. Do you want to come up with me, or should I go get him?"

He started to back off, his fingers slithering along the ridges crossing Peter's collar, but before he could get far Peter's hands moved on their own. He grabbed at Bruce, his fingers catching awkwardly in his shirt around his ribs. "No," he said sharply, and when Bruce stared in confusion, he winced. "No, that's okay, I..."

Peter gulped. He had no idea what he was doing but he couldn't let go. He wanted to know, even if it meant risking everything. He stretched his hands and pressed them into Bruce's sides gingerly, thinking that he could still play this off as a joke if he needed to. "I came here to see you," he finished.

Bruce blinked at him, his hands still poised against Peter's collar. The brightness faded quickly from his expression as he stared at the slots in Peter's mask, searching, maybe wary. He might have even held his breath for a moment as his eyes narrowed in intense scrutiny. Peter tensed beneath him. His heart pounded into his ears and he told himself to back off, to laugh, to do something - anything - to break the suddenly insufferable atmosphere. He had made a mistake. He had-

Bruce stretched his fingers in a slow, testing trace of the suit's shoulder seams. Peter's own fingers curled in response against Bruce's ribs. It was as if their bodies were coiling around each other like timid snakes, and then, impossibly, Bruce leaned closer. His hands slid back to Peter's neck and he tipped his head to press a little kiss to Peter's mask. Even through the fabric the gentle pressure of warm lips to his made him light-headed.

Bruce leaned back and laughed. "Did I miss?" he asked.

"No," Peter said quickly. "No, you...you got me all right."

Bruce laughed again, with all the pleased relief that was already running circles around Peter's stomach. "I never thought that you actually..." He shook his head and grinned openly as he slipped his fingertips under the lip of Peter's mask. "I'm so rusty I thought you were just teasing me."

"I kind of...was?" Peter prickled with goose bumps as Bruce tugged the spandex up over his jaw. "I wasn't sure that I was...that you...you know. Sorry."

"It's okay," said Bruce, and when his eyelids drooped happily Peter allowed himself to really see how handsome he was like this, all eager smiles and blushing cheeks. "I know."

Bruce kissed him again, and it felt so much better with their lips meeting properly. He started slow, soft and explorative as if each gentle kiss was his first. Peter was all too content letting him set the pace. His concerns from the night before faded and he thought that maybe kissing guys wasn't so different from kissing girls after all. As he gained confidence he slid his hands around Bruce's back and tugged him closer, their bodies slotting together. Even though it was disorienting at first to have a broad chest leaning into him, Peter overcame the new sensation quickly thanks to a tiny murmur of approval from Bruce.

But then Bruce started to push the mask higher. Peter tried to reach for it but his arms tangled with Bruce's and he had to resort to turning his head away. "Don't," he said, a thin thrill of panic coursing through him. "Leave it on."

Bruce grumbled in disappointment. "Don't I finally get to see you?"

Peter squirmed, tempted, but he had no idea how Bruce would react. Would he realize, just as Steve had, how young he really was? His stomach clenched guiltily but he couldn't bring himself to give up just yet. "Leave it on," he said again, and, hoping to distract him, he pressed another, harder kiss to Bruce's lips. "You made me promise."

It did the trick, more so than Peter was prepared for; Bruce all but purred as he returned the deeper kiss. "So you were volunteering," he said, his voice lowering to an almost predatory murmur that rumbled into the pit of Peter's stomach.

When Peter remembered exactly what that conversation had been about, he tensed all over again. Suddenly the heat of Bruce's body leaning into him was overwhelming, and his feet shifted against the tile floor. They stumbled awkwardly and Bruce pulled back with a muttered curse.

"Sorry," Peter said involuntarily.

"No, you're-" Bruce extricated himself and looked over his shoulder. After a moment of searching he took Peter by the arm and led him toward a corner of the lab. "Over here."

Peter followed. His feet were lead weights and his brain was circling them somewhere up by the ceiling. "This is the one corner the cameras can't see," Bruce was saying, each word echoing off Peter's ears as if he were in the burning building again. Then Bruce pushed his back up against the wall and there was no helping it; a thin groan of dizzy arousal rippled out of him.

Bruce mumbled something in reply, but as he leaned back in, he paused suddenly. He felt out the bruise on the underside of Peter's jaw. "Oh, Peter."

"It's fine," Peter insisted. "It doesn't hurt."

Bruce kissed it better. His lips ghosted along Peter's jaw and then down his throat, tracing the tender flesh with care that bordered on adoration. His hands were not so gentle. His fingers worked beneath the mask, and though Peter flinched at first thinking he meant to dislodge it, Bruce was only interested in twisting his fingers in the hair at the back of Peter's scalp. He tugged, tipping Peter's head back against the wall.

It felt amazing. Peter clutched at Bruce's back, startled and a little intimidated by how easily his body was willing to surrender to Bruce's possessive strength. Five thick fingers and a dozen fleeting kisses were more than enough to heat his blood to boiling. When he couldn't take anymore he pulled against Bruce's grip - God that was even better - and demanded a proper, tongue-melting kiss.

Bruce murmured as they pulled apart. "Shh." When Peter tried to kiss him again he resisted, pressing his lips instead to Peter's ear. "We can go slow."

Bruce shifted his weight, and Peter realized then that he was trapped; Bruce couldn't match Peter's height, but he was broader, his body sturdy. When Peter stroked his back he could feel the muscles drawing tight beneath layers of skin. He wasn't a big guy but he had all the leverage - even with his abilities Peter wasn't sure he'd be able to throw him easily if he wanted to. It was more exciting than it should have been. His pulse hitched and throbbed into his groin as he squirmed between Bruce and the wall. Everything was moving too fast, but he was getting hard and he didn't want to stop.

"Fuck slow," Peter huffed. He yanked at Bruce's belt anxiously.

Bruce's chuckle emptied hotly against Peter's neck. "If only I'd met you ten years ago."

His hand was still tight at the back of Peter's scalp as he rocked into him for another kiss. The friction of his hips against Peter's cock put stars in his eyes. Peter groaned shamelessly into Bruce's mouth as he pulled and wriggled in a desperate attempt to get them closer together. He wanted that strength and that heat all around him, and he would have crawled right up inside Bruce if he could have.

"God, this suit," Bruce said abruptly. To Peter's disappointment he relinquished Peter's hair, but then his hands were on the move, massaging Peter's shoulders and chest, chasing the contours of the fabric across his lean body. "Your body in it is...exquisite."

"Exqui...oh yeah?" Peter slumped against the wall and tried to catch his breath, but Bruce's slow groping kept stealing it from him again. His mask was bunched and askew but he didn't try to fix it; he closed his eyes and focused on the stern fingers circling his pecs, gliding down his abdomen, dipping between his thighs-

Peter arched his back, senseless and eager, but Bruce diverted his attentions too soon. Instead of reaching for Peter's now aching erection he nudged Peter's knees further apart. When he leaned back in Peter felt a pulse of mixed arousal and apprehension seethe through him. No one had ever touched him like this. Even Bruce's normally mellow and even shy exterior had melted away for something raw and hungry. Bruce may have been trying to restrain it, but Peter could feel the need pulsing between them - more clearly than ever when Bruce pumped against his crotch.

"Oh shit," Peter gasped. His abdomen clenched and he bit his lip hard to keep from coming on the spot. His hands snapped around Bruce's biceps in search of stability. "Oh shit, what happened to slow?"

Bruce pressed a kiss to the point of his chin. "That was before I found this."

He grabbed Peter's ass and squeezed, his blissful sigh drowned out by Peter's startled groan. "If I had an ass like this, I'd probably wear spandex, too," he teased. "It's almost unreal."

"It's..." Peter shoved his shoulders into the wall at his back. He couldn't form coherent sentences. "Oh fuck."

"I've wanted to do this for a while," Bruce confessed in whisper, stroking and kneading Peter's perfect ass. "God, Peter, you have no idea, how long it's been - how much I've missed - you don't know what this means to me."

"What?" Peter tried to focus, but then Bruce kissed him again, his mouth hot and desperate, and he couldn't help but respond in kind. Feeling Bruce's cock hard against his own turned his brain to mud. The mere thought that someone as talented and intelligent as Bruce could want him with such ferocity seared away the last of Peter's inhibitions, and he spread his legs even further. When that wasn't enough he bent one knee and braced his foot against the wall, letting it stick. With the other also in place he could open himself fully to his eager partner, and Bruce took full advantage, worming greedily between his thighs.

It took Bruce a moment to realize that Peter was defying physics. When he did he pulled back and stared at Peter's feet while his hands continued to roam distractedly up and down his thighs. His brow furrowed. "How are you doing that?"

"Ah, you know." Peter shrugged. "Science."

Bruce's chuckle deepened into a moan as he settled in again. "Just when I thought I couldn't be more turned on by you."

Peter wrapped his arms around Bruce's shoulders as they met for another long kiss. When his hands shook he twisted them in Bruce's shirt and pulled, needing anchorage. He had no idea what he was doing anymore but he couldn't stop, helpless against the hormone-laced adrenaline racing through his system. He squeezed and sucked and writhed against the heated body pressing into him and couldn't understand how Bruce remained so steady, rocking him into the wall with slow, measured thrusts.

Bruce encouraged Peter's thighs to tighten around his hips and then reached for his ass again, clearly delighting in fondling it. "You're beautiful," Bruce mumbled, tracing Peter's tailbone and sliding down between his cheeks. "I could stay just like this all night."

Peter whined in frustration - his organs were churning and Bruce talking like that made him want to throw certain scientists across the room. "I couldn't," he blurted out, clutching at Bruce's shoulders, mouthing the point of his jaw. "I can't - keep going." He let one foot off the wall and shoved his heel into the small of Bruce's back, trying to urge him into heavier motion. "C'mon, Bruce. C'mon, please."

Bruce tried to answer, but then Peter jerked him into a needy kiss. His breath huffed out his nose as he shifted his weight, leaning into the strong leg wrapped around him. "Okay," he said when he was able to, amusement in his breathless voice. "Don't worry - I'll take care of you."

Bruce palmed him through the spandex. Even that much made Peter shudder, but then he began to stroke, the meat of his hand rubbing a smooth line along the underside of Peter's straining cock. It sent pleasure stuttering all through him, and he jerked, shoving his hips forward. "Oh fuck," he moaned, pawing at Bruce as each long caress set his nervous system on fire. "Oh fuck, don't stop."

"Shh," Bruce soothed, his other hand still tight and territorial against Peter's ass. He smothered Peter's mouth with his own, sucking out each deep sound of pleasure as he sped up.

It didn't take long. Peter was already nearly in pieces, and when Bruce's hand dipped lower to squeeze his balls it unraveled him completely. Climax wracked his long body and left him curled and quivering around his partner. For those brief moments there was only Bruce's strong hands, and Bruce's quiet breath in his ear, and pleasure flowing in and out of every extension of his weary body. He kept still for as long as he could as if that would help him savor it.

Bruce pressed little kisses to his slack lips. "Seems like you've been waiting for this as long as I have," he mumbled with approval.

He gave Peter's cock a gentle squeeze, but even that was too much for his oversensitive organ, and Peter quickly urged his hand back. "Ahh - wait. Wait."

Bruce hummed an apology and went back to stroking Peter's thigh instead. As they leaned together, Peter catching his breath and Bruce silently patient, a slow burn of emotion crept up the back of Peter's throat. He tried to swallow it down but the words were already easing onto his tongue. He wanted to tell Bruce the truth: that he'd never done this before with anyone let alone another guy; that he was awed and anxious in the face of Bruce's greater age and experience; that he was afraid of what would happen next. He wet his lips, but before he got the chance to say anything Bruce was there, kissing him eagerly. And that was a lot easier than saying the truth, so Peter let him.

Bruce took Peter's wrist and tugged his hand up. With his mask still askew Peter couldn't see what he was up to, but he definitely felt it when Bruce drew two of Peter's fingers into his mouth. He sucked on them slow and hard, lavishing with his tongue, sending a trickle of heat into even Peter's weary groin. When he seemed satisfied he moved on to the next two, then Peter's thumb, humming and almost slurping. But it wasn't until Peter heard a man's fly being opened that he figured out what was going on.

"You'll take care of me, too, won't you?" Bruce said close to his ear. His voice was husky and hopeful at once, as much a teenager as Peter. He nudged Peter's hand toward his open pants.

"I..." Peter's other hand clenched against the back of Bruce's neck. "I've never jerked off a guy before," he admitted.

Bruce made a quiet, surprised noise at the back of his throat. "Well, that's okay." He nuzzled Peter's cheek - Peter was sure he imagined the faint scrape of teeth. "You masturbate, don't you? It's the same thing."

"Not exactly the same..." Peter took in a deep breath. The thought that Bruce might be as desperate as he had been and merely hiding it spurred him past his nerves, and he slipped his hand down the front of Bruce's pants. Blind as he was, it took him a moment to work his fingers beneath the hem of Bruce's boxers, and another to steel his courage and take hold.

Bruce sighed heavily. Though he was tense his patience stayed true, and he very calmly adjusted their stance and position so that Peter had an easier time reaching. "Yes," he mumbled, and when Peter gave him a slow, testing squeeze, a shiver passed through him. "Yes, just like that."

Peter gulped as he slid his fingers up and down Bruce's cock. It was bigger than he'd expected, heavy and full in his palm, and so sensitive - Bruce twitched and groaned with every stroke. Feeling and hearing his reactions made Peter sweat all over again inside the confines of the suit. The fingers clenching against his ass were their own reward, but it was Bruce's hissing breath and hunching shoulders that excited Peter into picking up the pace. It thrilled him to know he could get Bruce off just as much as Bruce had him.

"How's that?" Peter tightened his grip, and his heart skipped when Bruce's hips stuttered in answer.

"God, those ridges," Bruce groaned. He pumped against Peter's hand eagerly. "It feels so good."

Peter licked his lips. "Just imagine if we put the new webbing on it," he said, gaining confidence all the time. "All wet at gooey..."

Bruce made a strangled sound and kissed Peter hungrily. His restraint was finally slipping, and with each squeeze of Peter's over-eager fingers his lips became more frantic, his breath sharper. He shoved his pants down further and grabbed Peter's hand, shaping it the way he wanted. "There," he panted, sliding his cock into the ring of spandex and slick rubber. "Hold it just like that - don't move." He rocked his hips back and forth to be sure of the depth and angle. "Don't move."

"Okay," Peter breathed. "Come on."

Bruce started slow but quickly picked up momentum. At first he kept Peter's wrist clasped, holding him steady as he fucked the loosely closed fist, but then his hand had better things to do. He tangled his fingers in Peter's hair again and pulled, demanding rather than seeking more lung-aching kisses. Peter didn't protest. His skin tingled with electricity as he welcomed Bruce against his body. He was granting someone he cared for pleasure, and judging by the vulgar noises seeping past their pressed lips, plenty of it. He'd never seen Bruce lose his composure and having him buck and gasp between his thighs excited him almost as much as when Bruce was groping him in earnest.

"Come on," Peter spurred him on, loving each tremor, each half-formed curse Bruce offered. He rubbed Bruce with his legs and pulled on his hair as he kissed him hard and messy. "Come on, come on."

Bruce bared his teeth, and a growl spilled from him that didn't quite sound human as his hips spasmed in sudden, all-consuming release. Peter squeezed the back of his neck but kept his other hand still until Bruce was spent and panting. When he finally did let go he hesitated only a moment before wiping his soiled fingers on the front of his suit. It was a mess anyway.

"Got any tips for getting jizz out of spandex?" he teased.

Bruce leaned into Peter, his shoulders hunched and taut as if he were still teetering on the edge of climax. "Wait," he gasped.

"Don't worry - I'm not going anywhere." Peter chuckled weakly. "Not sure I could stand if I-"

"Wait." Bruce turned his face against Peter's shoulder and braced both his hands to the wall. "Just stop, please, just wait."

Peter clapped his jaws shut. Something had changed and he realized that the tension in Bruce's frame wasn't lingering excitement after all. He was shaking. Frowning, Peter finally adjusted the mask slots to his eyes, but all he could see was the dim night lighting throughout the lab. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Bruce had to take several deep breaths before he could answer. "Yeah. Just give me a minute, I..." He was pressed so close Peter could feel him gulp. "I need to get my heart rate down."

The fright in his tone sobered Peter completely. He shrank against the wall, uncertain of what to do. When a minute had passed and Bruce showed no signs of calming, he snuck his hand between them and gave Bruce's chest a gentle rub. Bruce sighed, which he took as permission to continue. With one hand still curled at the back of Bruce's neck he unbuttoned Bruce's shirt and pressed a slow massage into his chest and collar.

Gradually, Bruce calmed until he was able to straighten up. "Thank you," he said. "I'm all right."

Peter was still a little shaken himself but he tried not to let it show. "You got a heart condition?"

"Something like that." Bruce took in one last deep breath and smoothed his hair back. "It's not as bad as it used to be, but sometimes when I get over-stimulated, just thinking that things could go wrong makes it worse." He smiled wearily. "But I'm okay."

"Good." Peter plucked at his suit. "Because if you had a heart attack, all of this would be pretty hard to explain to a paramedic."

Bruce laughed and finally backed up enough that Peter was able to get both feet on the ground. Just as he'd suspected, his knees gave out almost immediately, and they stumbled against each other with more laughter. "There's a wash sink in the corner," said Bruce, "and a bathroom just across the hall, so you can clean up. No one else is on this floor this late."

"Okay. Thanks." Peter snuck a quick glance as Bruce tucked his dick back into his pants and then forced his wobbly legs to carry him to the bathroom.

Getting the stains out of the suit wasn't going to happen without some kind of detergent, so he satisfied himself with a quick rinse and dry. It wouldn't be comfortable getting home, but he had half a finished costume waiting, so retiring the current one soon was an easy option. Reminding himself that there wouldn't be cameras in the bathroom, he took his mask off to splash some water on his face.

His reflection was waiting for him. He stared at himself for a long moment, letting the water evaporating off his face give him cooling clarity. "Parker, what are you doing?" he muttered, too many sensations warring in his tight chest. He couldn't remember how everything had escalated so quickly and had no idea where to go next.

When he got back to the lab Bruce was sitting at his desk, leaning thoughtfully against his clasped hands. His eyes were glazed in the same helpless look Peter had fixed on himself a moment ago. It gave Peter a much needed boost of conviction, but he made sure his mask was secure before approaching. "Hey."

Bruce turned his chair and smiled awkwardly. "Hey."

"So, wow." Peter tried not to fidget. "I'm glad we cleared that up, at least."

Bruce laughed. His voice was still rough and it made Peter smile. "I suppose we did," he agreed.

Peter came closer and, feeling bold, sat himself down in Bruce's lap. He only got a cursory protest before Bruce gave up, leaning back in the chair with just his fingertips trailing over Peter's thighs. "The cameras can see us here, you know," he said.

"So?" Peter shrugged. "They can't fire me."

Bruce sighed. "What am I going to do with you, Peter?"

"I was just wondering the same thing." Peter poked gingerly at Bruce's chest. "Seriously, even. Because I have no idea what I'm doing."

"At least that makes two of us."

Knowing that they were both just as confused eased the worst of Peter's worries, but to be sure he tugged his mask up and kissed Bruce. Bruce's lips were lazy but they were welcoming. I can do this, Peter thought as he slid his hands to the back of Bruce's neck. He could be a hero, and do great science, and have a boyfriend - a great boyfriend who stayed holed up in a tower, who couldn't get hurt or be used against him. It all seemed pretty perfect, and Peter kissed Bruce eagerly as if it would convince him of the same.

Bruce hummed between them, and when Peter started to get a little too eager, nudged him back. "Now don't get riled up on me," he said. "I'm still catching my breath."

"Come on." Peter turned his mouth on Bruce's throat. "You said you could do this all night."

"That was before." Bruce sighed, but he did tip his chin back, inviting Peter's little kisses. "Give me a minute. I'm not exactly a teenager, you know."

"Well I am," retorted Peter. "So it's okay."

Bruce chuckled, but his humor trailed off at about the same time that Peter realized what he'd said. He went very still. "Wait. What?"

Peter swallowed back the instinct to curse, but there was nothing he could do about his flinch. "What?" he repeated innocently. He took Bruce by the jaw and kissed him, hoping it would be a worthy distraction.

It only worked for a moment; Bruce took Peter by the shoulders and urged him back. "What did you just say?"

"What?" Peter tensed defensively despite his attempts to remain calm. "I'm just joking around."

Bruce's hands flexed against Peter's shoulders and his eyes narrowed. "How old are you, Peter?"

Caught. Peter gulped, and that alone must have tipped Bruce off for certain. The air quickly grew thick, but before Bruce could get to separating them, Peter hopped to his feet on his own. "Does it matter?" he asked, more sharply than he'd intended.

"It matters now, yes." Bruce forced a laugh. "Please don't tell me you're in high school or something."

"Um...okay." Peter was quickly approaching panic. "I won't tell you that."

The color flooded out of Bruce's face. "Oh my god."

"Only for about another month," Peter added.

It didn't help. Bruce recoiled, his chair skidding back several inches. "You're - you're in high school?"

Peter instinctually pulled his mask back down as if it might offer protection. "So?"

"So?" Bruce started to get up but stopped himself, one hand gripping the edge of the desk. "I knew you were young but I figured you were at least in college, a grad student maybe, or-"

"What difference does it make?" Peter interrupted. "We've been working together all this time. You said yourself you were impressed that I-"

"That and this-" he waved between them "-are totally different, don't you understand? I thought you were an adult, not...not that I was just humping a minor, Jesus Christ, Peter!"

Peter shifted from foot to foot; he was boiling in his skin, mortified. "Hey," he retorted helplessly. "Seventeen is totally legal in New York."

Bruce rubbed his face with both hands. "My god, you're seventeen."

"So what?" Peter insisted. "You're really making a big deal out of nothing."

"I am old enough to be your father," Bruce groaned through his hands.

"But I...!" Peter threw his hands up in exasperation. "We're only talking about, what, a few years anyway, right? So, what, I'm old enough to save the entire flipping city from becoming lizardmen, but not quite old enough to get jerked off, is that it?"

"Stop it - stop it." Bruce finally made it to his feet. "I think you should go."

Peter stepped back. His shoulders drooped and his knees felt week, as if the air were rushing out of him. He understood but his heart was pounding, and watching Bruce turn away after everything they'd just done sent his lungs caving in. He hadn't wanted this. He was hurt and frustrated and it came out of him the only way he knew how.

"So that's it?" Peter said. "Just 'fuck off, get out of here?'"

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not like that. I just think-"

"Do you have any idea how shitty that is?" He throat stung and he hated himself for it. "You just - just feel me up like it's no big deal, and you know, an hour ago I wasn't even sure-"

"I wouldn't have done anything if I'd known you were a kid," Bruce interrupted. His face had gone from dead white to brightly flushed and he had to stop to wipe the sweat off his brow. "Damn it."

"I'm not a kid," Peter snapped. "And it's not my fault you never bothered to ask. It's not like I would have lied!"

"Enough, all right?" Bruce tried to rub the grimace out of his face, but his hands were trembling. "Just calm down."

"You calm down, old man." Peter shoved a desk chair out of his way. "You've got your blood pressure to worry about."

Bruce's eyes snapped to him, and all at once a stillness overtook and twisted his features. The intensity that had only minutes ago drawn Peter in was suddenly overwhelming and almost frightening. It shot under Peter's skin like an electric current, a swift and indescribable warning.

"Get out," Bruce snarled.

Peter retreated a step and started when his foot struck the desk chair he'd just shoved. His anger fled and there was only instinctual panic pulsing between his temples. "Bruce-"

"Get out." Bruce started toward him. "Get out!"

Peter's body reacted without him. Long before Bruce could have reached him he darted for the open window and leapt onto the sill. He turned back, an apology in his mouth, but there was something terrifying in Bruce's wild eyes, and every thought in his brain turned only to escape. He shot his webbing to the next building and fled.

Bruce slammed the window shut and turned away. Already he burned with shame, and when he scraped his arm across his mouth he could taste the sweat slicking his fevered goose bumps. His heart was wild in his ears but all he could think was stupid, stupid. He regretted every word and it made him sick to try and imagine Peter's face beneath the mask, the hurt and anger he must have felt. Then he remembered the situation he was in and everything crashed in and he was furious.

He was pacing and didn't notice when the door to the lab opened. A quiet tap of footsteps echoed in the empty space. "Bruce?"

Bruce turned, but when he saw it was only Tony, he went back to pacing. "What?"

Tony watched closely as he came closer. "Everything all right?"

"It's fine." Bruce avoided Tony's gaze as much as possible. "It's nothing - go away."

Tony made a quiet, irritated noise. "So what's the matter? Have a fight with your spider-boyfriend or something?"

The heat flared back into Bruce's face. "He's not - no. No, it's nothing like that. What do you want?"

He risked a glance. Tony was still watching him intently, perfectly calm, but there was something knowing in his expression that dug under Bruce's skin. He felt ill all over again and he almost asked Tony outright if he'd already watched the security feed.

"Nothing," Tony said with a shrug. "Pacing helps me think sometimes, too. So." He cocked his head to the side. "What are we working on?"

Bruce glared at him incredulously. Tony knew - he had to know. Tony knew everything. He wouldn't have come down otherwise. Bruce waited for Tony to say more, but when he didn't, his patience swiftly wore thin and the truth tumbled out of him.

"I'm wondering," Bruce huffed, "what I did that was so damn wrong."

Tony's eyebrows perked. "Come again?"

"I'm a scientist, for God's sake," he continued, pacing fasting. "I don't believe in karma. But then why is it? Why is it that every time I think that maybe I finally have something, it's - it's gone. I just don't understand."

"It's not karma," said Tony.

"Then why?" Bruce insisted. He was babbling and he didn't care. "It's not fair. He should have told me. He should have said, straight up - what the hell am I supposed to do now? I should never have come here. I'm so stupid - stupid!"

"Bruce." Tony leaned his hip against the nearest desk. "What's blue and lives in the ocean?"

Bruce was so thrown by the change of subjects he stopped to stare. "What?"

"It's a riddle," said Tony. "What's blue and lives in the ocean?"

"You asked me what was wrong and I'm trying to tell you," Bruce said incredulously. "Now you want to play games?"

"Come on, Bruce, I know you know this one."

Bruce smeared his hands over his face. It was too hard to think - his brain felt overly large in his skull, wringing all his rationality from it. "I don't know," he grumbled. "Um, fish."

Tony crossed his arms. "More specific, please."

"I'm not a zoologist!" Bruce shook his head and resumed prowling up and down the aisle. "A bluegill."

"That's fresh water."

"That blue fish," Bruce said, gesturing with his hands. "The blue and yellow one with the...you know, they're in every restaurant."

Tony shook his head. "I'll give you a hint - it's not a fish."

"Okay." Bruce took in a deep breath. He had to figure it out because Tony would be insufferable if he didn't, and in order to figure it out he had to think. "Okay. It's water."

Tony shook his head again. "Water is only alive in the metaphorical sense. And it's not really blue."

"You didn't say it couldn't be metaphorical."

"I'm saying it now."

"This is ridiculous," Bruce muttered, but he hadn't given up. "A whale. A blue whale."

Tony hooked an office chair with his foot and pulled it over. "Whales are gray. Come on, you're close."

Bruce licked his lips. "Coral?"

"Nope."

"Sea cucumber."

"Nope."

"Blue..." Bruce stopped pacing at last, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and focused. "Blue, a blue..." He snapped his fingers. "A blue marlin!"

Tony snapped back. "Yes," he said, to Bruce's relief. "Yes, that's it. A blue marlin."

Bruce let out a sigh that was half weary laughter. "Tony," he said pointedly. "A blue marlin is a fish."

"So?" Tony turned the chair toward Bruce.

"You said it wasn't a fish."

"Did I?"

"I don't even see how that's a riddle anyway." There was no point in arguing, so Bruce only shook his head and sank into the chair when Tony offered it to him. "So," he said. "What do I win?"

"You tell me." Tony fixed him with a serious look. "Are you all right?"

Bruce started to answer, but before he could get the words out he realized they weren't true. His heart rate had slowed from moments ago but it was still fluttering behind his ribs. His skin felt bloated and slick with cold sweat. When his gaze swerved left and right the room smeared and sharpened at once, swimming in and out of focus. They were all the warning signs he'd trained himself to identify before they happened, and they were ravaging him. He went cold all over again. "Oh my god." He looked to Tony. "Did you just...?"

"It works on hiccups, too," said Tony. "But seriously, Bruce: are you all right?"

"No." Bruce pressed his hand to his chest. He was shivering, fragile even, and his insides were devouring each other in shame and fright. "But I'm not about to...change." He leaned over his knees and thought he might be sick. "I'm all right."

Tony scooted closer along the desk. "You wanna tell me now what happened?"

Bruce licked his lips. He didn't want to, but he wasn't about to get into an argument with Tony, too. "Spider-Man was here," he admitted. "You were right - we had a fight. My god." His head sank into his hands as he remembered Peter fleeing through the open window. "I could have killed him."

"You didn't," Tony said immediately. "As far as I can tell, you didn't even come close. So don't get worked up over it. Your control is-"

"I don't have control," Bruce interrupted. "That's the part that..." Bruce grimaced and forced himself continue. "...frightens me. I really thought that I was getting a handle on it. That maybe I could control it. I was getting better - that's the only reason I agreed to come here in the first place. But I was wrong." Bruce pressed his eyes shut. "Nothing's changed."

Because he had almost given in, and not to bullets or explosions. Not to himself willingly to face a mortal threat. He had almost lost everything he'd worked for over a stupid fight with a horny teenager.

"That's bullshit," Tony said, and Bruce envied him, that he could make it sound that easy. "Come on, Bruce, did I not just talk you down from a Hulk-out, here? You think that would have worked a year ago? A few weeks ago? Give me some credit; being here has been good for you." He pushed away from the desk and smacked Bruce's shoulder. "Come on. Let's go upstairs. We'll make some coffee; we'll talk it out."

Bruce allowed himself to be prodded upright, but once on his feet he felt a tremor pass through him. "Wait." He took Tony's arm. "In my desk, bottom drawer." He stared at the floor. "I have sedatives prepared."

"I thought you didn't like taking those," said Tony.

"I don't. But I have to do something. It's..." Bruce took a deep breath and rubbed his chest. "He's still right here."

Tony reached behind him and pulled a loaded hypodermic out of his belt. "Can it wait until we're upstairs? I'm not the best carrier."

Bruce smiled wearily, but then his attention was drawn to Tony's hand and the circlet on his wrist: the Iron Man bracers. He gulped. "You were watching, weren't you?" he asked. "Through the security camera? You knew I was in trouble."

Tony gave him a tug toward the exit. "It was JARVIS," he said. "When you moved in, I asked him to monitor the stress levels in your voice. He let me know something was up." He cocked an eye. "Too creepy?"

Bruce wasn't sure if he should have been relieved; as humiliating as it would have been to know Tony watched the entire encounter, at least it would have saved Bruce from having to recount it. "No, it's fine." He let Tony lead him out of the lab. "Thank you, Tony. I mean it."