This one's a little long for a drabble, ahaha ._. I can't help it! There's just always so much to say! Then again it's not much longer than the last one. Lol anyways, can you tell I'm pumped? Second update in a day x) Let me know what you think!

prompt two: love

word count: 1,158

It was such an abstract concept.

Bruce lay in his bed and stared at the flecked ceiling, sheets having been tossed every which way in frustration at his inability to fall asleep. It was another one of those nights, when the Hulk's presence was too strong for him to ignore it. If he tried, he was too afraid he'd lose control. So he stopped trying to fix the situation and just accepted it. Bruce Banner wasn't going to be getting much rest, so instead, he was contemplating the realities of love.

It was completely different for every individual person. Having lived with his fellow Avengers for even just a few weeks, he essentially had a window straight into their psyches – even the world class assassins had their vulnerable moments, and it didn't take much for Bruce to figure out what love was to his friends.

He wasn't even sure if Thor understood what love was – did they have that sort of thing on Asgard? It seemed as if the demigod loved regardless. Thor saw the good in everything. Even Loki, who'd made it quite clear he had no interest in any sort of loving family relationship. It was almost a little heartbreaking to Bruce, because the world was designed to prey on the innocent, the hopeful – Thor was in no way weak, but he was so…happy. He had so much to lose, and he didn't even seem to be aware that there was such a possibility. Perhaps Bruce was just too much of a pessimistic person (he liked to think of himself as a realist), but for some reason thinking of such a person – one who loves so very unconditionally – made him extremely sad, so he directed his thoughts elsewhere.

Steve was similar to Thor, but he was much more level-headed. To Steve, love was worth anything and everything. He'd give up his life for the love of his country, or for that matter the love of his life – and he didn't view it as any great sacrifice, to him it was simply the right thing to do. As if he believed that the basic unit of life was love instead of cells. The world was made from love and ran on love, and Steve would do anything to preserve that love.

Some, say Natasha, would view this as a weakness. And in a way, it would be, because it's a surefire way to get yourself manipulated by the bad guy. However, the way Natasha lived – in denial of love – was another very disheartening thing to think about. It was no secret she and Clint had a…thing? That didn't seem like the appropriate word to Bruce, because it was much deeper than that. He couldn't even comprehend the closeness of their relationship. It brought best friends to an entirely new level. Clint and Natasha were made for each other, and he knew that they knew it – but as far as he could tell, neither of them had ever acknowledged it. At least, not directly. Bruce knew Natasha was really the one holding things back. She didn't view herself as a person who deserved love, or maybe it was just that she didn't understand it. It wasn't one of her living, breathing targets – she had no control, she couldn't predict what was going to happen next. And he was sure that sort of thing must be terrifying to her. Clint was a very put-together, composed person, so exercising almost inhuman patience he respected the boundaries of Natasha's comfort zone without complaint. Bruce hoped they'd be able to be happy together someday.

Tony was clearly still too immature at heart to recognize love. Bruce didn't know the extent of his and Pepper's relationship, but if it hadn't reached such deep romantic proportions yet, he had a hunch that when it did Tony might wisen up a little. The man was brilliant, no doubt about it, but he certainly had a mile left of growing to do. It definitely helped that Pepper's patience matched even Clint's – Bruce easily found common ground with Tony, but that didn't change the fact that he knew a hell of a lot of ways to push somebody's buttons. He figured, also, that Tony was the sort of person who just didn't know how to express his feelings properly, like the little boy in elementary school who would tug on the ponytail of the girl he liked. Bruce was a little more tolerant of him than the others, and not just because they had so much in common – he understood that deep down, Tony's sarcastic jabs and condescending remarks were just his way of saying he cared.

And then all there was left was him. He knew his plight well. He liked to claim that he'd reached a place of acceptance, but somewhere in his heart he knew that it was only because the reality of it just hadn't hit him yet. He was still secretly hoping to one day have that perfect, normal family life – a wife, kids, pets, eventually grandchildren… For Bruce to love someone would be a selfish, selfish thing for him to do. The others tried to tell him he didn't deserve such a lonely existence, but he could never bring himself to put somebody in constant danger like that. It was hard enough being around his friends all the time. It put him more on edge than he usually was, the thought that at any moment he could lose it and do something horrid. The truth was Bruce was afraid to love. Love was so fragile, so delicate – and he didn't do particularly well with breakable things. Of course it wasn't the way he wanted it to be, but he told himself that at least he'd always have the Other Guy. If what Tony had said about the Hulk saving Bruce's life was true, then in a way, he felt a little comforted. Maybe over time he'd learn to control it better, and the Other Guy would become a companion of sorts. He didn't think he'd ever be able to be proud of what he was, he'd already done too much damage; but maybe it would get a little easier someday. Realist though he was, Bruce knew that it was foolish for one to think that hope was unnecessary. No matter how hopeless the world may seem, the human race wouldn't survive if they didn't have something to hold onto. They would lose themselves – and Bruce couldn't afford to do that anymore than he already had.

The thoughts weighed down on Bruce's eyelids. He struggled to hold onto consciousness, then reluctantly decided to let go when he realized he felt the Other Guy backing off. Perhaps he'd heard some of Bruce's silent tangent. Then he was falling, falling, falling, and the smiling faces of his friends passed by him as a dark wave crashed over his head and submerged him in sleep.