"I got low. I didn't see an end. So I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out."
Bruce remembered that evening as clearly as if it had happened the night before. He always would.
Cool autumn air; the low buzz of traffic on the nearby highway; the smell of someone barbecuing dinner. The world outside was peaceful. But despite this, as he sat in his kitchen on one of the mahogany bar stools, Bruce Banner had never felt so terrible in his life. Physically and emotionally, he knew The Hulk would never let any of this get better. By merely thinking about the monster and all it had done, he could feel it stirring in the back of his mind. That alone terrified him, which only seemed to egg the monster on as it began to try to push it's way through Bruce's consciousness again.
He couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't handle trying to share a brain and a body with such a creature. Couldn't take the excruciating pain of each transformation as all of his muscles and bones grew to twice or even three times their normal sizes in a matter of seconds. Coupled with the crippling exhaustion that came with reverting back to himself, Bruce was never rested. He hated being pushed to the back of his own mind as an uncontrollable beast took over his body. But most of all, Bruce couldn't live with the knowledge that he'd hurt and killed so many people. He'd torn families apart and punished people who'd never even so much as looked at him funny. Although Bruce was never in control when these things happened, he knew that the monster was a part of him and thus, every incident was also his fault. It even relayed the memories back to him as he slept as if they were some sort of sick movie. It was too much.
Slowly, Bruce rose and made his way to the drawer under the counter where he kept his father's gun. It was sort of a morbid memento of his life as a child and now, just as it had helped his mother escape his monster of a father, it was going to help him escape the monster he had become.
As Bruce checked the clip in the small pistol, he could feel the beast taunting him. It almost laughed at Bruce's thoughts and made no effort to hide the fact that it thought the man didn't have it in him to even hurt a pathetic little insect, much less kill himself. Hell, he'd probably miss and shoot through the ceiling, instead!
"STOP!" Bruce finally screamed to the empty house. The monster chuckled in his mind as Bruce cocked the gun. "I've had enough. The world will be a better place without you and the only way to get rid of you is to take me, too."
Bruce stared at the weapon in his hand for a moment, the cool metal slowly becoming almost a comforting weight as he allowed a single tear to slip down his cheek. As he raised the barrel of the gun to his lips, he thought of his mother and almost smiled. He'd see her again soon. The last thing he remembered before he pulled the trigger was the familiar pain of the beast tearing out of him again as it growled lowly: "Not that easy..."
"...-uce! Bruce, wake up!"
Suddenly, the man was being shaken awake. Almost immediately, he sat up and gasped for air as his lungs felt like they'd been completely compressed. He quickly got his bearings and managed to slow his heart rate to where he knew it would be below his critical point before dropping his head into his hands. As Bruce ran his fingers through his hair, he slowly opened his eyes to see a faint blue glow off to his right.
"Bruce...?"
"I'm okay, Tony," Bruce replied softly, turning to face the source of the glow. "Just had a bad dream."
Tony seemed to relax a bit before leaning forward and swiping his thumb over Bruce's damp cheek gently. "Which one? You have a lot of them, y'know."
Bruce smiled halfheartedly and rubbed at his eyes. "Does it matter?"
"I suppose not," Tony shrugged and moved closer to the other man before pulling him into his lap.
"Hey! Tony!" Bruce protested weakly, attempting to return to his own side of the bed. "Really, I'm fine."
"Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Tony stated, pulling Bruce back against him. "Now, either you stay put until you feel better, or I'll swaddle you like a newborn and sit on you until you fall asleep." The response made Bruce turn slightly to look at Tony's usual calm but confident expression and raise one eyebrow. "You know I'll do it!"
Bruce sighed, resigned. "I know you will."
"Good. Now get comfortable," Tony replied, leaning back against his stack of pillows.
The smaller man waited for Tony to readjust before curling up against his side, with his cheek resting on Tony's chest. After a moment, he reached down and pulled the covers over them both as Tony wrapped one arm around his back.
A few minutes passed and Bruce began tracing his fingers over the scars around the arc reactor. One would think that the small device was completely silent, but as he laid there listening to Tony's breathing even out, Bruce could hear the very faintest of hums reverberating through the other man's chest. He made a mental note to ask Tony about it tomorrow, but for now, he let it lull him back into a fitful sleep.