In the three weeks since Bruce was moved to Shield County he'd spent almost every afternoon at Tony's house. They would first do their homework at Bruce's urging, then immediately run upstairs to work on DUMMY or, on one memorable occasion, sneak down to Howard's workshop in the basement. Bruce had been stunned speechless by the holographic displays and millimeters-thin tablets that shouldn't have existed for at least another five years.
"Yeah, Dad likes to keep all the good toys for himself and watch the monkeys at Apple scramble to catch up," smirked Tony, the blue glow from the holograms giving him an otherworldly look, and Bruce fell a little bit in love. Then there were a series of thumps upstairs and with a gesture the lights were back up. "Fuck, fuck, Mom and Dad are home early, shit, fuck, we gotta get out of Dad's lab!"
They made it to the top of the stairs just as his parents came inside. Mom made polite conversation and said it was so nice to meet you, Bruce, Tony's told me all about you (Lie, or just embarrassment at having not been around long enough for Tony to tell her he made a friend. Either way it made Bruce smile, so Tony guessed that a lie in this case was okay); Dad reeked of booze and vanished into his shop without a word. Whatever. Bruce stayed for dinner that night, because Mom was the best cook in the world and Tony wasn't about to let the chance go to waste.
Every Friday, Tony stayed after school to watch the cheerleaders and football team practice. Only every once in a while did the cheerleaders' break coincide with something exciting happening on the field, and that was when Pepper slipped away from the girls to have fun with Tony behind the bleachers. Lately he had been wondering if he ought to consider laying off a little bit, maybe try making a move on Banner, but then on the fifth Thursday since he'd been moved to Shield County, Bruce came running to Tony's side after school, flushed with delight, and announced, "Tony, I love her, you need to help me!"
"Who?" asked Tony with an eyebrow raised, and Bruce subtly nodded at a girl halfway across the lot. She was sitting on the sidewalk doing math homework in the last precious rays of warm sunlight before winter rolled over and smothered them all in her enormous frosty breasts, glasses perched on the edge of her nose and dark hair tied back. Tony groaned. "Jesus, Banner, you really don't go halvesies on these things, do you?"
Still grinning like a dope, Bruce shrugged. "I don't know! She leaned over in Calculus and asked what the date was, and I said 'It's October fourth' and she said 'Thanks' and smiled at me like- Wow! She's the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my whole-mmpf."
Tony had put his hand over Bruce's mouth to end the gushing monologue. "First of all, it's 'hot'. Say she's 'hot', you're not twelve years old anymore, you're a grown fucking man. And dude, you've got a boner for Betty Ross," he told him sternly. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Fucking idiot," and smiled winningly. "Bruce, if there ever were a girl in this school who was completely unattainable, it's Betty Ross. Her dad's the football coach, and he doesn't want anyone touching his daughter, let alone losers like they probably think you are even though I think you're adorable. Even if he can't beat your ass off her himself, he's got an army of thugs wrapped around his ham-hock who would gladly do it for him. Seriously, I tried to tap that last year, thought they were gonna rip my heart out of my chest like some tacky Kung Fu movie."
Bruce looked heartbroken. Dammit. Tony sighed and crumbled within seconds. "Oh my god, fine, I might know a guy. But don't get your hopes up!"
The guy he had in mind was Thor Odinson, the biggest and burliest muscle head on the football team, but also probably the biggest softie on the planet. He'd started off a stupid asshole just like the rest of them until he got a girlfriend in sophomore year, Jane Foster, and she used the Power of Love to make him realize just how much of an asshole he was. It wasn't fair, a guy being that built and being genuinely nice. Yeah, he was a senior, and yeah, he was a jock headed for ivy league football, but he was the king jock and built like a god. The other idiots did exactly what he said, and he used that power to stop them ganging up on smaller kids whenever he saw it happen - unless a particular kid they targeted had fucked with his little brother, Loki (what was with the names in that family?), then it was a whole different story filled with blood and regret.
Basically, if Bruce was gonna have any sort of chance with Betty, he would need that guy on his side for protection. It couldn't be that tough, since Thor was sort of dumber than a sack of rocks in all the spheres of academia required to pass high school. He knew his literature, that was for sure, knew all the sappy poetry cliches like What it Really Means to Live and, of course, the Power of Love, but he was a little fixated on classic lit to the point where he talked like a Viking and obsessed over courtly love and other weird outdated shit like that. Tony had heard through the grapevine, though, that he was desperately looking for a Calculus tutor.
Thus, the study group began.
"It is not that I do not wish to learn, I simply do not grasp how understanding these confounded rules will be relevant to my life!" groused Thor as he erased yet another badly-executed equation.
Bruce leaned closer across the tiny library table with a look on his face so sincerely apologetic that Thor felt he had no choice but to wait and listen to what he had to say. "I know, man. No, really, I do. Math sucks, especially when it seems like there's no way it could apply to life at all. But you know what I did to help? My mom died when I was seven. I was afraid I would forget what she looked like, so I figured out an equation to slope the curve of her smile. I made math apply to my life. Dude, I made math my bitch. And you can do it too." He grinned at Thor, but there was something dark and tense hovering at the edges of it, like he would rather just have his mom back.
"That is the most beautiful use for this foul study I have ever heard, Banner," replied Thor, big blue eyes actually shining with a hint of unshed tears.
From the head of the table, to Bruce's right and Thor's left, Tony frowned. He didn't exactly like the feeling of something big and heavy stomping on his sternum, thanks. "You really did that?"
He did that thing again, that thing where he sort of shrank in on himself, hiding behind his floppy bangs and thick eyelashes with that self-deprecating little smile that made Tony want to be sick. "Even if I did, I damn well wouldn't tell you, Stark."
Tony kicked him under the table and smirked when he had to dodge the Calc book turned flying projectile. Thor laughed loudly enough for the librarian to glare at them. "You are both most amusing," he whispered. "Come to my home this evening and my mother will prepare the most delicious meal you've seen all your lives long!"
The smaller boys looked at one another and shrugged. What did they have to lose? Well, except maybe one thing. "You're...still gonna pay me though, right?" asked Bruce, fingers twitching against the tabletop.
"Of course, my friend!"
"Then yeah, we'd love to." He reached across the table and shook Thor's meaty paw.
The big guy really wasn't kidding about it being a meal they'd never forget. Thor was a big enough eater, but his dad was just as much of a beefcake after years and years in the army (at such a high rank that he couldn't even fully disclose his title, holy shit). At least his eyepatch could be explained away. In comparison, despite being a whopping 6'2", Loki looked positively tiny compared to them. Their mom made enough food to compete with Thanksgiving. Tony had celebrated the last four Thanksgivings having takeout in his room, so he was determined to savor it.
"Tony, how are your parents?" asked Mrs. Odinson as promptly as though she had counted down the seconds until it was appropriate to make polite conversation. "Your mother hasn't been to Rainbow Bridge Club in ages."
"They're fine," replied Tony mildly, having been raised to know just how to respond to that particular question. "Dad's keeping Mom busy helping out with the company, and since Stark Industries is expanding more than ever, they've been traveling all over the country pitching ideas to important folks. I hear Malibu's beautiful this time of year." And then the conversation turned to weather and vacations, neatly deflected away from Stark Industries' more controversial aspects, just as Tony had been taught to do.
At Tony's side, Bruce was quiet as he fastidiously ate his ridiculously tiny portions, keeping his eyes down unless he was being spoken to. Under the table, he nudged Bruce's foot with his foot until he cracked a smile and looked up. Good. Tony didn't like it when Bruce got quiet; it made him think of the small dark spaces he'd seen on the little guy's wrist the day they'd met, and what it must have taken for Bruce to get so low. He still hadn't mentioned that he saw them; there was never exactly a good time to bring up that sort of thing.
"So, Bruce, what do your parents do?"
Tony felt himself stiffen, and looked out of the corner of his eye to see Bruce surprisingly at ease. "Oh, I live with Mrs. Linwood, ma'am," he politely replied. Everyone knew that Mrs. Linwood took in foster kids.
Mrs. Odinson's eyebrows twitched subtly up; she must have been really shocked. Her face was sort of Botox'd beyond all range of emotion. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry, dear, I didn't realize..."
He shook his head. "It's fine, ma'am. I don't mind." Then Bruce shut his eyes, a muscle twitching in his jaw, and very calmly opened them again to face Mrs. Odinson's inevitable questions, now that he had unintentionally given permission to ask. He quickly and calmly - far too calmly - explained, "I lost my mother when I was seven and my father when I was eight, but I assure you that I'm very well adjusted."
Thor's mom blinked at him, then smiled stiffly. "Well, that-...that's good to hear."
Across the table, Thor grinned through his mouthful of food at them. "Bruce is by far the most intelligent person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and one of the kindest as well. Homework that would take me hours to complete, Bruce can accomplish in minutes! It is truly remarkable."
"I can do that too," mumbled Loki from his mother's side. "I could be tutoring you, saving you money, and probably do a better job of it, but instead-"
"Don't be proud, Loki," Thor's father growled into his glass of wine, and Loki's eyes dropped. Dropped somewhere small, and dark, and fully separate from that night and that table and that dinner. Tony gritted his teeth and played idly with his fork. It wasn't his job to pick up strays or rejects, he wasn't going to do that. If Loki had issues he could deal. Tony didn't even know how to have more than one friend, and Thor was already elbowing his way in. It was the dopey grin, Tony couldn't help thinking of Lennie from Of Mice and Men whenever he saw that stupid look on Thor's fucking moonface.
The rest of dinner was pretty uneventful, thank god, and from then on Thor was a permanent fixture at their lunch table...and Betty Ross was a permanent fixture at Bruce's side. Turns out, she'd only asked Bruce for the date that day in Calc because she thought he was cute when he blushed, and he blushed every time people talked to him. If Bruce had only asked, Tony would have told him the same damn thing. But whatever. It was fine. Bruce was happy, Thor's grades were getting better. Everything was fine.
Just fucking perfect, in fact, because it didn't matter that Mom came home without Dad last night, or that Jarvis was sick (not just sick, but really sick, and fuck if that didn't cut like a knife to the sternum), or that Obie was going to jail for plotting to kidnap and kill Tony.
None of it fucking mattered at all.