He had promised himself he wouldn't stay. He had been surprised and pleased that Tony had been serious in his offer to come to Stark Tower. After the battle he had been high on their win, actually allowing himself to try on feelings like accepted and successful and belonging for a change. He knew it wouldn't last, it couldn't last, and that he'd soon enough be off and alone again, trying his best to keep his head above water and not destroy anything. So, he let Tony talk him into staying, let him lead him to an impossibly shiny convertible, got into the passenger seat and went along.
Each day felt like both a miracle and a mistake. Never before had Bruce felt so welcome in a place, even before his accident. Tony truly did not see him as a man with a monster inside. Instead, he saw him just as a man. He treated Bruce like a complete equal, with none of the legendary Stark ego or preening. It was easy, comfortable. They were just scientists, and friends, building shit and making shit and blowing shit up. It was…fun.
Which was a problem.
Fun led to attachments. Attachments led to emotions. Emotions led to…the other guy. The other guy led to Bruce fleeing the country and starting from scratch, again, alone with his pain. As much as he tried to avoid it, these things happened, and he knew he had a decent layer of emotional scarring to prevent anything from penetrating too deep.
Bruce had come to the conclusion that Tony was taking his emotional scarring as a personal challenge. Conscious or not (and, in Bruce's estimation, Tony didn't do anything at all without conscious forethought), Tony was needling and insinuating himself past every barrier Bruce had created. One of the problems with this was that when things went south, and things always went south, he didn't know if he could pick himself up again this time.
Why was Tony doing it? Try as he might, Bruce couldn't figure out Tony's angle here.
At night when he was trying to fall asleep in the overly-large bed in his new apartment in Stark Tower, he let his mind and heart wander. In the dark, he imagined a life for himself, a life without having to always think about what might cause an incident, what he might lose this time. In the dark, he was free to do whatever he wanted with his life, no longer bound by any restraints. He had done this for years, waiting until he was safely behind closed eyes before thinking about what he was missing out on, but for the first time, what he thought about in the dark was the same as what he had.
At first, they were simple dreams. Staying at the tower. Doing stuff in the lab. Hanging out, watching movies, cooking. Tony seemed to make his way into even those early fantasies, but as he spent so much of each day with Tony, Bruce paid it no mind. After a bit, the fantasies became more complex. Staying in one place long enough to decorate it and make it his own. Making major discoveries with Tony and being able to get them out into the world, to help people in a way he never could before. Being happy. Living a normal life.
One night, he was letting himself imagine such a future and he drifted off to sleep. His mind kept going, however, and he was actually dreaming of what he and Tony would accomplish. In the dream, he pushed the last piece of the design into place. Tony, standing next to him, beamed at him and declared it perfect. Then Tony kissed him. In the dream, this was perfectly normal. It was natural to celebrate an important discovery by kissing the man you loved.
Now that part of the dream had Bruce sitting up in a cold sweat. Love? Love?
Love.
Get ahold of yourself, Banner, he told himself sternly. Tony was amazing, but it would be stupid to think of him like that on SO many different levels. First off, Tony was straight. Well. Tony was involved with Pepper, which was more important. A small, unhelpful voice in Bruce's head whispered things he had read about Tony Stark's infamous love life in the past. "Adventurous" was probably a more applicable label for Tony than "straight". Still doesn't do anything about Pepper, he told the small voice.
More importantly, Bruce had no idea what indulging in these sorts of strong emotions would do to the other guy. He already ran a high enough risk of something happening and the Hulk coming out without adding matters of the heart into the mixture. In his younger days, he was able to balance a burning passion for science with a burning passion for life. He had had his fair share of affairs with lovely women – and one summer spent holed up with his research assistant, a college boy named Charles with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, unable to get enough of each other's bodies. Each affair had been such a torrent of feelings; he shied away from thinking about how fast that might bring on the other guy.
Bruce forced the thoughts out of his mind, forced himself to lie down and run through some breathing exercises. Eventually he was able to get back to sleep, but the sleep was restless, and in the morning he wondered if his troubles were beginning again. Maybe it was time to give up on this moment of surreal calm in his life, get out before the storm broke over him again.
The mood in the lab that day was subdued. Bruce hadn't seen Tony since they went to lunch with Pepper the day before. After lunch Bruce had headed back to the lab, and he'd received a text from Tony saying that he was held up in some Stark Industries business and would catch him later. Bruce had continued what he'd been working on that morning, and had spent the evening reading, comfortable but oddly lonely without the constant energy of Tony nearby.
Today that energy was…out of focus. Bruce knew that he had his own baggage this morning, but something was up with Tony, as well. He was uncharacteristically quiet; the only sounds from him were his occasionally banging something around and swearing. He was pleasant enough to Bruce when they crossed paths, but more than once, he felt Tony's eyes on him, his expression tense.
Could Tony read him that well, to know that he was thinking of leaving? He hoped he wasn't that transparent. Finally, he took a deep breath, scrubbed a hand over his face, and went over to the workbench Tony was slouched over. Tony looked up at him, at first glance happy if distracted, though he quickly sensed something was up and the tense expression returned.
Before Bruce could say anything, Tony held up a hand to stop him. "Don't. Just don't."
"Don't what?"
"You're about to tell me you're leaving, aren't you?"
Bruce sighed. Yep, transparent. Tony could read that, but could he read the other thing, too? "Tony -"
"Are you unhappy here? Unhappy with me?"
"What? No! It's just -"
Tony stood up and turned to face him, eyes dark and shining. "Just what, Bruce? You're running again. You don't need to run, ever again."
Tony's eyes were going right through him. Bruce took a deep breath and tried to strengthen his resolve, but standing this close Bruce could smell him, musk and sweat and grease and solder. "I…uh…I'm not running, I'm…"
"I'm just going to cut you off again. You know how I know you're running? Because you're not articulating. You are one of the most articulate men I know, but when you're evading, you stumble. Come up with a solid argument next time." He clapped his hands on Bruce's shoulders, gripping them for just a second before releasing him and turning him towards the elevator. "Until then, my friend, you aren't going anywhere. Except to the bar."
The brief contact and Tony's unbreakable confidence staggered him. "Uh, okay. Wait, the bar?"
"Yeah. I have some sorrows to drown."
"Oh?"
"Pepper and I broke up yesterday."
"Oh."
To the bar it was, then.