Who: Bruce Banner and Tony Stark When: After the altercation with Loki, before the group plot What: Science bros. What else? Where: SHIELD Medical facility Warnings: You can't handle the adorable. Really, you can't. SHIELD your eyes! (anyone see what I did there?)
Walking into a SHIELD medical facility was the last thing Bruce wanted to do. But he wasn’t going to stay home and not do anything if there was, in fact, something he could do. His hair was as mussed as it ever was, his glasses a bit dirty and his dark blue button down shirt was wrinkled. They almost stopped him at the gates until he got a bit closer and told them exactly who he was. Which at the moment was, Dr. Bruce Banner, Tony Stark’s personal physician. He was guided through the facility with people who were likely debating whether or not to lead him to a quarantine until they could have a proper look at him. While at the same time keeping their wits about them in case he suddenly burst into a fit of rage and destroyed the hospital. Bruce hoped it was more the latter, if they had a healthy dose of fear they might be less inclined to provoke him.
He was led to Tony’s room and while he closed the door behind him as he entered he had no doubt there were people guarding the door who were heavily armed. He didn’t say anything right away, nothing more than a soft unsure smile and a nod. As he crossed the room he managed, “Hey Tony, I’m Bruce,” simply because it dawned on him that while he knew Tony he was pretty sure Tony didn’t know him. “May I?” he said but didn’t wait for permission as he helped himself to Tony’s chart and looked at the latest report on his condition.
Tony had confused dreams. He hurt a lot, even in these dreams, and he was back in the cave for some of them, while in others he was on the roof above the arc reactor, waiting for Obadiah to end. Tony didn’t have ready thought at hand when he opened his eyes and actually saw something. “...Yinsen?” The room wasn’t bright, nor was it bright. It was silver gray and dim, and he thought he felt the grit of the cave and heard the hum of the generators, but those things started to dissolve. Tony blinked and tried to focus. More silver paneling. He was on his side, which was why the room was tilted strangely. No. Yinsen was dead.
Tony tried to move, and such a chorus of pain met that attempt that he stopped immediately. “Ow.” His back hurt, his back hurt a lot. That would probably be because (judging from the reports) they had to take pieces of the suit out of it, and he just missed spine damage by centimeters. Tony tried to turn his head to see who was standing at the end of the bed. “Ow.” His shoulder hurt a lot, too. That would probably be because of the multiple surgeries in an attempt to restore the skin, which had been cooled to such a point that it blackened, like instant frostbite. Tony groaned and shut his eyes again. “Just take my kidney and go.”
Bruce watched, eyebrows raised, as Tony tried to move about. He watched carefully, it was clear he was in pain, but he was watching his movements carefully to see what he could find out from that alone. He fully intended on stopping him if he looked like he was going to injure himself worse. So far he didn’t seem to be going far.
He couldn’t help but smiled a chuckle out a small huff as he shook his head, “Now what would I do with your kidney? It’s Bruce, Tony. Bruce Banner.”
Tony tried to seal his eyes shut and go back to the pseudo-darkness. The longer he was awake, the more it hurt, and he would prefer the cool cave and the familiarity of Yinsen clattering at the bunsen burner to make bad tea. Tony tried all his fingers and all his toes, and after that he tried to relax under the sheets to the extent he was able. When it proved impossible to sleep, Tony opened one eye and took in the scruffy-looking man. “Banner.” He was trying to call up the familiarity of the name, but he didn’t quite get there. Then he got it. His unshaven chin turned a little more, and he made more of an effort. “Dr. Banner. Your work is unparalleled. And you’re... working in ER. Oh, Christ.” The eye closed again. “SHIELD.”
Bruce waited patiently while Tony worked it out. And watched him wiggle his toes and fingers and was, at least, pleased that they seemed to be attached and mobile. When he finally did work it out Bruce made a sound in the affirmative. “That was my thought exactly upon arrival,” he said with a sigh. “I really don’t want them to keep me here, Tony. So if I can just have a look at what’s going on here, I’ll see what I can do to help. I told them I was your personal physician and they’re just waiting to take me out. So this is an all around fun day for everyone,” he casually walked over to the side of Tony’s bed chart tucked under one arm. He looked him over again and straightened his glasses, being as casual as possible. “Does this hurt?” he asked almost nonchalantly before he put his hand on Tony’s injured shoulder and gave it a very gentle squeeze. Certainly not enough to damage, under normal circumstances it would have been a timid gesture just to get someone’s attention and watched for a reaction carefully.
While this long explanation slid over him, Tony thought about how much he would like some fucking painkillers, and he tried to figure out what hurt him more, his back or his shoulder. He’d just decided on his back when Bruce approached the bed and put his hand out. Pain, the widespread kind where a vague everything hurt, like a burn, like a kid’s scrape only half his fucking shoulder and arm went up in indescribable ouch. Tony made a noise grown men didn’t make when they had anything to say about it, something like a strangled wail at half-strength. He jerked, and that made raw stitches pull under the bandages at his back and he saw stars. “Ow, god, fuck, get the fucking hell away from me!” He wasn’t really angry, at least not after that first flare of pain, just pissed. “If you’ve got a medical degree I’m Mickey Mouse. What the hell do you want, Banner?!”
Bruce smiled, clearly pleased. “That’s good news,” he said with an incredibly helpful nod. “Tissue damage like that can result in serious loss of sensation, you were pretty lucky considering the extent of the injury,” he said opening the chart again and giving it a read. “No numbness anywhere?” he asked curiously. “I’m just here to help, Mickey Mouse.”
Tony’s left arm, his good one, was starting to ache under his weight, and his left hand was tingling. Everything else hurt. He glared up at Bruce from under red eyelids. “I hate you. Rogers sent you to torture me.”
“Yes I walked into a SHIELD facility and risked my certain unalienable rights just to torture you when I could just as easily torture you at home without sacrificing my freedom. So. Sit still let me get this part over with and see if you’re well enough to be moved out of this place and to your own place where SHIELD isn’t breathing down your neck, be good and I’ll give you a lollipop,” he pulled a vial out of his pocket and grinned, “And the good stuff,” he said with a chuckle and put it back in his pocket. “Any numbness anywhere below the waist?” he saw the way he was situated and didn’t know how it could be comfortable, and it wasn’t good for him either. Bruce picked up a pillow off of a nearby chair and sighed a bit, “I’m going to prop your other side up with this, to try and take some of the pressure off the rest of your body.” he said and then...He just did it. It wasn’t easy when someone was in pain and what you had to do to help them was going really going to be terrible for a minute. He told him to take a deep breath and with surprisingly strength and swiftness he had Tony looking just the slightest bit more comfortable, and definitely in a more sustainable position. “So, why exactly did you take it upon yourself to fight the bad guy and not call anyone?”
Even half-dead and recently taken to pieces, Tony was still a smart man. You could even take away the genius-level scientific ability, and he was still a smart man. He might have been doped up (though not nearly enough in his opinion) but he was still listening and he was still fully aware of the significance of Bruce Banner's presence in his hospital room. He didn't knowe whether to believe that he was there of his own volition, but he couldn't think of a reason SHIELD would have forced him, not with the absence of Colonel Fury to push the Avengers Initiative. Without One-eye to force them to sing kumbayah, Tony couldn't think of a reason that Bruce Banner would give a damn except out of the goodness of his heart. After a second's thought, he was willing to buy that. Tony had read all Bruce's scientific work, and even if the public didn't realize it, you could learn a lot about a man just by reading his academic publications. Such things revealed integrity, compassion and public awareness just as much as initiative, intellect and thoroughness. (Tony didn't bother to publish his work. He liked to build it and stick it out in the middle of conferences and trade fairs to see eyes pop and jaws drop. It was funner that way.)
So he let Dr. Banner carry on with his treatment--and it was a choice, no doubt about it. Tony was a powerful man, and not just because he was wealthy. He could have made sure SHIELD marched to his tune, especially with Fury gone, if he decided not to trust the man at his bedside. He answered the question about numbness with a negative, shuddering at the idea of losing the ability to move his limbs without additional comment. When he was told to take a breath he obeyed, and when he was turned, he swore, but not with the targeted cursing he had before. He was even forced to admit (silently, to himself) that the new position was easier than his last. He gazed up at Banner at the last question, clearly thinking, without the cocksure grin he usually wore to hide it. "He came at me. He was there for my technology." There was a slight emphasis on "me" and "my."
Bruce went about what he was doing, there wasn’t much to asses at the moment as far as Tony’s condition went. SHIELD had done a good job on treating him. Bruce was focused on trying to get him out of here because this was the last place he’d want to be holed up and injured. But perhaps that was just him. It was part of the reason he hadn’t given him the good drugs quite yet as well, he didn’t want him to feel out of it in case this place went bonkers over the both of them. He didn’t think Tony should be moved today but it was clear to Bruce that if he kept his ass still for a bit and rested up (one could dream) he’d recover.
He furrowed his brow a bit and removed his glasses to rub the lenses on the hem of his shirt before he put them back on as he said Loki had gone after him and his tech. “Do you know what he was after?” then followed with, “Did he get it?”
Tony turned his head to watch the men that were just visible standing outside his door change shifts. Interesting. He looked back at Bruce and attempted to turn his head properly to get a good look at his face. “Something from one of the suits. And yeah, the sonuvabitch got it.” The last was casual in tone but Tony clenched his back teeth a second later, as if to bite down on the very idea that anyone would dare steal his tech to do harm to other people after what had happened with Obadiah. He was not going to let that pass. “I need my phone,” he informed the doctor. “Can you send one of these guys to get it?” He indicated the soldiers with a jerk of his thumb.
Bruce felt a pang of empathy at the thought that Loki had actually gotten what he’d come for. He didn’t know what it was really or what Loki would need with something from one of Tony’s suits. It didn’t make much sense but then again, bad guys rarely worried about making sense. “Well then we take it back,” he said easily enough.
Bruce nodded and walked over to the door and opened it, sounding as docile as possible, even giving the soldiers a dorky little wave, started his sentence with something akin to “hey guys” and managed to talk one of them into getting Tony’s phone. He came back and smiled a bit. “I don’t think we should move you just yet,” he said giving his honest opinion. “Soon, very soon, but you should rest for now. And we’ll get you out of here quickly, I’ll come by and check on you, and once there’s a bit more improvement you can recuperate at home and I’ll still be by to check on you, but at least you won’t be here.” It was an honest assessment, he didn’t like it, but it was the truth. He wouldn’t recommend to move Tony anywhere, not even when Bruce had a constant eye on him. But they all knew that was hardly a possibility lest SHIELD get too comfortable with thim there. he chuckled with just a bit of sheepishness, “Unless they decide to keep me, we might be bunk mates.”
He dug into his pocket again and offered up the only good news he had (except for the fact that Tony wasn’t dead and would likely be capable of movement in the future). “You want the good stuff?” he asked holding the bottle up again.
Tony was impressed that Bruce managed to get one of them going to fetch his phone. Soldiers followed orders, but only if they respected the person giving them, and Bruce didn’t exactly foster respect. He must have something else. Tony had charisma, not respect. He almost dozed off, thinking about it, but opened his eyes wide again as Bruce came closer. He wouldn’t have been able to absolutely sleep, really, he was in too much pain, and even breathing hurt. “You did good with them. I’ll leave if I feel like leaving.” He shifted slightly toward the other man, as much as he was able. “And I’ll take my doctor and my drug cabinet with me, thanks.” That was definitely a yes, painkillers, please.
Bruce definitely had something else, a healthy dose of ‘he could blow at any moment’ tended to serve him well in these kinds of situations. Bruce had no doubt in his mind that Tony would leave if he felt like it, but it was still his best advice not to try and leave right away. He appreciated the sentiment that Tony wasn’t going to leave him here to rot and/or turn into the Hulk and take out a hospital full of sick and injured SHIELD agents. “Very good,” he said with a nod and turned around to wash his hands at the sink before he went about preparing the dose of opiates he was about to hand over to Tony. The IV made it easy enough and he grinned, “That should take the edge off and help you rest.”
You could count the times that Tony actually expressed earnest gratitude and run out of digits in your first minute. But this time he lifted one eyebrow so he could keep Bruce in his gaze even as he moved around the bed. There was a few seconds pause, and then Tony’s eyelids drooped. “Thank you.”