Word Count (this chapter): approx. 3600

A/N: I have broken my clavicle in soccer, meaning my right arm has to be in a sling. Typing is a bit slower, and with classes starting and soccer, which I now can't play games or contact practice in, it has been a pretty rough few weeks. Either way, chapter is finally up. It's a lot of Stanner interaction, since next chapter may have a heavy focus on Loki, Thor, and Steve like last chapter did.

Enjoy!

-Chapter 5: Un-situational - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bruce's mom is ecstatic. She actually takes the day off from the hospital to clean the house (though, cleaning three rooms can only take so long) then takes Bruce out to eat afterwards. She tells him about her latest patients and about how the department is getting bigger and bigger each day. Bruce listens eagerly. He's missed his mom's voice. It is nice to hear it when he does.

Tony is set to arrive at 7:00PM. Bruce's mom's waitressing shift starts at eight, giving them forty or so minutes to get everything situated. He texts Tony asking if he should wait outside, but Tony says he will knock on the door.

Bruce is nervous. He has been nervous. Tony's going to hate his house. It's poor and run-down and the polar opposite of what Tony's used to. Tony will hate the house and then hate Bruce vicariously through it. Or, if not the house, Bruce is sure Tony will hate being around him full-time. Tony hasn't triggered Bruce's anger yet, but everyone does eventually. Bruce looks at his mom at the thought. His mom can't stop fiddling with her hair, wanting to look nice for Tony's father so maybe Tony will actually stay here and enjoy it. 7:00PM comes quickly and Bruce counts each second Tony is late until his mom puts a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to see her usually-tired face shining with a kind, warm smile.

"Relax, Honey," she says like soft blankets.

And Bruce does.

The drive out of the hospital is pure torture. Howard tries to engage Tony in a conversation and brings up the 'M' word. Tony can't believe he has the nerve actually fucking bring up Mom, and of course Howard does it just as they're pulling into what looks like the worst apartment complex in New York. Tony manages a sharp insult at his father before the car fully stops. Getting out of the car, they both slam the door. It's childish, but Tony doesn't care. Childish means he gets to actually pretend he's someone's child, for once.

The scuffle with his dad, though, reminds Tony just how much he owes Bruce for letting him stay here. A car ride with his dad is out of the question, let alone however long it will take to update Stark mansion's devices. Tony doesn't care where he stays as long as it isn't with his father, and with how poor Bruce's joint looks, Tony doubts his father will risk a visit all too much (ever.)

But Howard pretends to care, like he usually does. Tony thinks it's just so his dad can sleep better at night. "Tony, this place looks dangerous. That last door had bullet holes in it."

"Well, I'm not staying behind that door, so it shouldn't be a problem."

They reach Bruce's apartment door, 302, and Tony knocks. His dad has a scrutinizing look that makes Tony really hope Bruce was exaggerating about the three rooms and communal showers. Howard has to like the place at least a little or he might not let Tony stay.

There is a brief pause after Tony knocks where Bruce doesn't answer, and Tony is sure Howard is thinking Bruce is some impolite ghetto kid Tony is just hanging out with for pot hook-ups or to piss Howard off. Then Bruce answers the door, looking a little more put-together than usual, hair combed more neatly, no stains on his shirt. Bruce looks up at Howard. Howard actually smiles at him.

What?

"Bruce, hello. It's nice to see you again."

"You also, Mr. Stark." Bruce's mom runs up to the door. Tony gets a look at her. She is tall and lanky with brown eyes and the same tired face he's seen on Bruce so many times. Bruce shuffles aside as his mom steps out. "This would be my mother."

Howard looks at her, and Ms. Banner grins and shakes his hand excitedly. "Hello, yes. I am Bruce's mom, parental guardian officiado of la casa de Banner. And you must be Tony's father? It is a pleasure to meet you."

Tony gives her bonus points for not treating his dad like a celebrity like most people do, but Tony can tell Howard thinks she is a little offline.

"You also," Howard says with a forced grin. "So, um, Mrs. Banner—"

"Oh, it's Ms. Banner. I'm divorced," she says, smile unwavering and wiggling her ring finger.

Howard nods. "Right, of course. So, my son wanted to stay here while our home was renovated, and—"

"Right, yes. I know all about that." She really needs to stop interrupting Howard, Tony thinks. The annoyed look on Howard's face shows that he agrees. "Bruce told me that your son will need a place to stay for a few weeks while the electronics in your home are tuned for his condition. Ah, right! I am also a nurse, certified, so I am fully qualified to be watching your son. I could even give him open heart surgery if he needed it, haha. But hopefully he won't—need it, that is!" she says and Tony looks at Bruce, and they exchange a look of how much a train-wreck this turning out to be. Tony braces for impact, but Howard is silent. "Mr. Stark? Are you alright?"

Howard looks at Tony, something soft and curious in his eyes. Tony raises a brow, confused.

"You told them about your heart?" he asks.

Howard is amazed. Tony has never willingly told anyone about his condition. He lied about it to Howard (it's nothing dad, just heart burn, I hate something funny), to his friends, even to the first string of doctors he had, and still does lie about it. Always. Howard looks at Bruce, wondering what this trashy little kid who looks like the antithesis of who Tony normally hangs out with could have possibly done to get Tony to open up like that. His son interrupts his thoughts, though. Howard had forgotten he'd asked Tony a question.

"Um, yeah. I mean, kind of."

"Kind of?" Bruce asks. "You spilled your life story to me over text message."

"It was not my life story!"

"Right."

"Okay, you know what Bruce Tapestry—"

"The place looks lovely," Howard says. Tony and Bruce stop bickering. "I am sure Tony will enjoy his stay here very much." Tony looks at Bruce, dumbfounded. His dad continues, "I will be sending checks for his bills weekly, but this is a little upfront payment for your troubles." He hands her an envelope. "Enclosed is also a list containing my phone number, Tony's doctor's, emergency contacts and a copy of the doctor's medical report and advice for Tony's recovery weeks: no lifting anything over ten pounds, keep sodium intake low, etcetera."

Bruce's mom stares at the envelope before taking it. "Alright. I promise to take care of your son, and if I don't, Bruce will, right?" she says, laughing and nudging her son. Bruce smiles, awkward and embarrassed, and Tony thinks it looks kind of adorable for a guy smiling. "Though, really. I'll keep him safe."

Howard nods. "I'm sure you will."

They all work together hauling an indeterminate amount of time's worth of luggage up to the apartment. When they are done, Howard and Ms. Banner shake hands a final time before Howard leaves and waves them off almost-fondly. Bruce's family and tony drag the suitcases through the door, and Bruce shuts it.

Tony lets out a huge sigh. "Oh my god, I could have sworn my dad was going to veto this."

"Yeah, well, good thing he didn't," Bruce says. He looks at the clock. "Oh, crap. Mom, it's 7:50."

"Is is?" she says. "Okay, shoot, well I love you Bruce, and you and Tony have a nice time. You two better be asleep by the time I get home or else expect some hardcore parenting, hardcore being disconnecting the internet for a day, of course."

Bruce grins and throws her her coat from the floor as she stumbles out the door, a piece of bread in her mouth for dinner and her waitress garb in a bag to change into in the car. Bruce shuts it again, and he and Tony are alone.

They are quiet for a bit. Bruce strolls back to the couch and sits next to him. "So."

"So," Tony echoes. "You really do only have three rooms."

"Yeap."

"No TV?"

"The twelve free channels our landlord provides everyone."

"Internet?"

"Neighbor's WiFi doesn't have encryption."

"Splendid."

The silence returns. Bruce coughs. "Uh, I kind of did warn you, you know. It's not much of a place. I mean, I think my entire house is the size of your closest."

"Size of my mother's old shoe closet, maybe," Tony replies with a laugh. "Speaking of moms, yours seems nice. Eccentric, but nice."

"That's what most people say about her. She works hard, though. She can only ever be not-serious when she's off the clock. Jokes and her… clientele don't mix really well. Not the day-time clients, at least."

"Right, right, I get it." A pause. Tony glances at the door. "And I just realized maybe I don't know you that well. Probably should have stayed with my dad a week and just came over here a lot or had you come over. You know, familiarize myself with what you're like out of school, then encroach myself into your home."

Bruce laughs. "Oh, don't tell me you're too shy to be around me."

Tony gasps in fake theatrics. "Why I? Shy? Never! Nervous, though? Nervous I could be."

"Alright, Yoda. But still, if you want to get to know me out of school, living with me is a pretty good way to do it. And I think I'm nervous enough for the both of us."

"Point, though completely ridiculous, taken."

Bruce shrugs. "I'm sure your dad wouldn't mind if you had a change of heart."

"Change of heart? Really, Bruce? You have word it like that after what Mr. Doctor did to me yesterday?" Tony says seriously, and lets the color drain awkwardly from Bruces face before chuckling.

"You are a terrible person, Tony!" Bruce says.

"I have also never joked about that before." Tony stops. "Or told anyone, really."

"Correction." Bruce sticks his pointer finger up and gestures at his chest. "I figured it out my own. Pacemaker, electronics, me seeing you naked, remember?"

"I meant about my mom and what I really have going on. Pacemaker's the understatement of the year, anyway."

"Yeah, well, it's good to have someone to talk to. Secrets mess you up." With all that Bruce is keeping, he knows this well. "If you keep them secret, that is."

"Right. Oh, by the way, do you need me to go food shopping later?" Tony asks. "Your mom doesn't seem like the type with a lot of spare time for groceries."

"Yes, but I'll go with you. It can be an adventure."

"Food shopping?"

"Adventurous food shopping," Bruce corrects. "But, my mom stocked up the fridge before you came, and your dad's check can cover what she spent, so we're good for a few days." Tony nods and Bruce remembers something. "Oh, right! Hey, we never did get down to work on that iron man robot you wanted to make."

Tony's face lights up. "Jesus, you really are excited about that. I thought you were just egging me on over the phone."

"You're joking me, right? Science is my thing. Do you have any tools with you? We don't have much here other than forks, knives and baking soda." Bruce realizes how much poorer his house is than Tony's. There is no way Tony will actually enjoy it here. They'll need to spend a lot of time out of the house, and Bruce doesn't know anything fun to do that doesn't happen in his room or on the internet.

"Mr. Banner, do not underestimate me. Of course I have my tools. Portable lab-to-go, actually," Tony says and ducks away to one of his bags in the corner. He unzips it and tugs out a black tool box. Back at the couch, Tony sits down, sets the box on his lap and opens it. "Candyland's top floor at my house, but you can get a nice spoonful of sugar just in here. Check it out and drool, Banner."

Bruce leans toward him to see it, his arm and thigh pressing against Tony's. "It is beautiful. I am not worthy." The box has an array of small tools—a mini welding torch, screwdrivers, hammers, wires, adapters, blueprint paper. It's a small start, but he and Tony can go shopping later for whatever else they need. "Is there anything on those blueprint papers?"

"As of?" Tony turns to him. Because of the way they are sitting, his face is right in Bruce's, and Tony shuffles back with a 'woah, sorry' and continues after a second, "Not yet. I was waiting to check out that doll you had."

"Action figure," Bruce asserts.

"D-O-double-L, doll."

Bruce chuckles and sits up. "Fine. But you're the one that wants to robotically recreate said 'doll.'"

"Bruce, please. When I was six, I made my friend Pepper's Cabbage patch shoot laser lights from its eyes."

"Oh, she must have loved you."

Tony pauses. "She used to."

Bruce realizes he hit a nerve. "Sensitive subject, got it. I have mine too. So, um, iron man, it was?"

"Actually, it is pretty dark out. We're skipping school tomorrow, so want to just go to sleep and get a fresh start then?"

The problem with anxiety is the second anything goes out-of-plan, it attacks. Bruce is such an absolute idiot. He's already hosting a Stark in the shittiest ghetto house New York has to offer, and then he manages screws up Science, the one tie of normalcy he could have given Tony in this new home, just like that. Bruce thinks of all the things he should have replied with and feels worse with each one. She must have loved you. What was Bruce thinking? The thoughts continue even as he replies, "Sure. There's only one bed here, though."

"Oh, no need for that. I may be rich, but I'm not beyond sleeping on a couch. One too many nights at lady's houses made me very versatile, know what I mean?" he adds with a nudge. Bruce doesn't particularly want to know what Tony means, and he doesn't get how Tony could go from being upset to jocular just like that. Or maybe he never was upset and Bruce is just being paranoid and ruining everything again.

And he is about to ruin everything even worse. "That won't work. My mom sleeps there. When I said one bed I meant—" Bruce looks away, embarrassment piling on to every other emotion he has, "—I mean we only have one bed in the entire house. Not that we just have one spare bed. I'll just sleep on the floor or something," he adds quickly.

Something like sympathy flashes in Tony's eyes, which is just great because now Tony will probably only be his pity friend for the next however, if he even stays here that long. Bruce can manage people not liking him, but pity? Pity is untenable. "Your family really is poor," Tony says.

"I said you shouldn't stay here. Sorry."

Tony waits a minute before smirking. "Well, Welfare-checks, it's too bad you're stuck with me. Let's go to the street corner to beg for something to buy a bed with. I'll even let you cut out my eyeballs so we can make a better due."

Bruce's mind blanks a minute. "Did you just call me 'Welfare-checks'? As a nickname?"

"Would you prefer Slumdogs?"

Bruce's mouth goes from open wide to a toothy smile. "Okay, you know what, Tax-cuts, I think you need to remember who you stepped on to get to top, 'kay?"

"Right, like Cinderella is in any position to be telling me what to do."

"You're calling me Cinderella? Does that make you the queen then?" he says and pokes at Tony's shirt.

"Oh, it is on now, Banner."

"Careful—you might break a fingernail!" Bruce says. Tony leers.

"Glasses off, Poindexter. We'll fight this out like men."

Bruce takes off his glasses then looks at Tony and asks earnestly, "With a game of chess?" Tony stops for a minute, squints as if deciding something. After a moment, he replies.

"Actually, yes. We will play contact-chess. When you take the other person's pieces, you can chuck them at their eye. But, if you're being serious, I do love chess, but no one is ever a challenge. Do you have a board?"

"No, but I have Chess Titans on my computer."

"Technology makes everything better. Let's get to it. Best five out of nine?"

Bruce gets up to get his computer. "That will take all night." Not that Bruce is exactly opposed to spending the night with Tony. He grins. "Let's do it."

They set up the computer and sit thigh-to-thigh, pushing the laptop between the two of them each move. Bruce wins the first two. Then Tony one, Bruce two, Tony two, a stalemate, then Tony wins the next two, leaving Bruce in the dust. They end up playing eleven games, and by the time they are done, it's light out, and if it wasn't for their minds racing, they'd be aware of how tired they are hours ago. Tony basks in victory and exhaustion with a stretch and eats the last of the Doritos they had gotten out last game. Bruce moves the laptop off them.

"I cannot believe we just played chess for nine hours," he says and picks up his glasses. "I need sleep."

"Yeah. Hey, since your mom isn't here, could one of us crash on the couch?" Tony asks, then realizes something. "Wait, is your mom supposed to be gone so long? It's, like, 5 am already."

"She works long night shifts. Sometimes she goes right from the bar back to the volunteer stands."

"Not much time for rest, then."

"It's hereditary," Bruce says. Tony's face flattens.

"Oh har-har. So—" he yawns "—Jesus I am tired. So, can we sleep now or what? And any vague change there was of me actually going to school today is gone now, so, no worries."

"Yeah. Come on, I'll show you to the bedroom." Bruce gets up and reaches a hand out for Tony to grab. Tony takes it, and Bruce leads him the approximate fifteen steps left to his room's door.

"Thanks." Tony lets go of his hand. "I might have gotten lost in one of the three rooms here."

"They can be quite daunting," Bruce manages before seeing the allure of his bed. Its covers are made—mom's doing, with a fresh blanket and newly washed sheets. It takes all his self-restraint not to pounce into them. "So, you want the bed, right?" It's terrible, but the selfish part of him he needs to beat up his arm to get rid of really hopes Tony will say 'no.'

"Doc said I need proper bed rest. All-nighter chess games don't really qualify."

"Right. So I'll crash on the floor. You mind letting me have the pillow or does your chest need to be kind of elevated?"

Tony bites his lip. "I feel like a jerk—that's a first, ha—but I really am supposed to have support on my upper body. I might have some extra pillows or blankets. Dad had just wanted me to pack clothes in case he didn't approve of here. You could take the blanket while I look for another pillow."

"Don't bother looking; all's good." Bruce crawls onto the carpet next to the bed and yanks the blanket down over him, then twirls in it so it surrounds his body and face like a sleeping bag.

"Night Tony.

Tony watches Bruce for a minute then walks over to the bed and sits on it. "Hey, wait. Bruce."

"Hm?" Bruce hums from under the blanket.

"You're not gay, right? Or, on the flip side, a raging homophobe?" Tony asks. Bruce pops his head out of the sheet.

That's a weird question, he thinks. Weirdly, he replies, "Last I checked, no, but hey eleven games of chess can really change people."

Tony cracks his neck to the side and massages it with his hand. "Ha. But alright, so it's not like it'd be awkward if we just shared a bed or anything. Unless it, like bugs you."

"Bed's for two very thin people or one fat guy. It might be a bit tight."

"Whatever. Just saying, since it's your house and all and there's no reason you should have to break your back bunking on the floor." Then he adds, "Oh god, are you one of those insanely annoying guys who are so macho and insecure about their masculinity that they can't even –?"

Bruce lugs himself up, still submerged in blanket, and collapses on the bed next to Tony. "Just saying, I don't do big spoon."

Tony rolls his eyes and slaps Bruce's head before they work for five solid minutes unraveling Bruce from the blanket and get into place back-to-back with each other. Bruce reaches over and flickers off the fan. "Night Tony."

"Night Bruce."

Halfway through the night, which is actually afternoon, lazy sunlight streaking the room, Tony dazes up, nudges Bruce's shoulder. "Hey, Bruce…" His voice is slurred a bit. Bruce catches his idea anyhow and turns around so they're facing each other. "Yeah," Bruce says and buries his head in Tony's chest, fuzzy senses registering only warmth. Tony drapes an arm over his shoulder and snakes another up the back of his neck so it rests in his hair. "Mmh, thanks," Tony murmurs and Bruce replies simply: "welcome."

They fall back asleep.