WHO: Bruce Banner, Tony Stark WHAT: Post beach Hulk out-freak out WHEN: Sunday WHERE: Bruce’s bungalow WARNINGS:SPOILERS FOR THOR RAGNAROK!
Moving through his smaller home Bruce was on autopilot at the moment. He was sticky from sea water and half covered in sand. A shower was definitely what he needed, so it was nice to have direction. He spent a long while standing under the hot water, a luxury he didn’t always afford himself. It was wasteful, but right now it was needed. All those memories were trying to order themselves in his head, fitting in and changing how he felt about himself. That was, perhaps, one of the most disturbing parts.
He felt different.
That wasn’t something Bruce wanted to ever feel, unless it was him being ‘cured’ of the other guy. Not that he thought that was possible. Even if the attempt of finding one might have been ratcheted up to the very top of his priority list. He needed a cure, now. Bruce washed his hair and body twice to try to feel clean. He’d killed hundreds of people fighting in some type of death tournament? Thor had not filled him in much. He felt a pang thinking of his friend, he hoped he’d survived, that it’d gone well for them in Asgard.
Getting out, he dressed in a pair of loose gray yoga pants and a soft, blue, t-shirt. Bruce left his feet bare as he went to put on the kettle. He needed tea, a lot of it. A small part of him wished for a drink, something he never felt, but he knew it was a lie. Likewise was the thought of smoking anything stronger than cigarettes. He’d have half a pack of those he was sure, out in his sunroom, but nothing more than them. He needed his wits about him, there was so much to reconsider with this new information.
When he heard the doorbell he jumped, nervous and a bit on edge. He didn’t want to see anyone, so he ignored it. ----
Of course the doorbell went ignored. Which was why Tony rang it a second time, and then without waiting for a response, knocked too. Thing was, he knew Bruce was home, so he wasn’t really planning on taking no for an answer — especially if that no came in the form of a completely nonverbal response.
“Banner!” He called out, and even Tony was rather aware that he was verging on being obnoxious. Or had already passed that point. This was the sort of behavior that got him in trouble. The sort of behavior that would have Pepper on his ass and apologizing for him. But his good conscience wasn’t here, only him, and so everyone was simply going to have to deal with it. “Open up, or else I’m going to just find someone else to give this gift to.”
He did actually have a gift, so that wasn’t a lie. ---
The ringing of the doorbell continued to go unanswered as Bruce got out a sturdy brown ceramic mug. It’d hold up to him being a bit clumsy with it. His hands wanted to shake whenever he let his mind wander off task, but he went about getting his tea out to add to the kettle once it whistled. He scowled at his counter as the beating on his door commenced. Honestly, didn’t they realize he didn’t want to be disturbed? Massaging his temple, Bruce wondered if he went to yell at them if that’d trigger a transformation or if he’d get some peace. He was on his way to the door, purposeful steps and temper rising when he finally heard Tony’s voice. That brought him up short.
Tony was here? Why? Had Natasha contacted him?
That didn’t sound right, she’d known Bruce needed some time to decompress after that. Frowning at the door, he opened it. “What?” He asked, it coming out more harshly than he’d normally mean it to in his frustration and confusion. ---
To be fair, Tony didn’t really know Bruce well enough to know what was normal or not in terms of temper or frustration. But he did know himself well enough to know that more often than not, he managed having negative effects on people. That was fine though. They could would through that.
He grinned at Bruce, eyebrows peeking out from behind dark, stylish sunglasses, and he thrust out a little gift bag in Bruce’s direction. “Gift,” he repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Lemme in so you can sit down and open it. You’re making a scene out here. What will the neighbors think?” ---
Bruce stared at the little bag Tony thrust at him, taking it. Part of him was used to Tony bowling him over like this, so he went with it. It was easier now that he was so confused. He moved to the side, let Tony in, and ignored the prattle about the neighbors. He could care less about them and he knew Tony would know that.
The kettle whistled and so Bruce headed back to the kitchen, expecting Tony to either follow or make himself at home in the living room with the comfortable sofa as the first room past the door. “I’m making chamomile verbena,” which he knew Tony disliked, “do you want coffee?” Those were all familiar normal things to consider falling into a pattern of doing. He placed the bag on the counter ignoring it for now. ---
Tony definitely knew. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to comment on it anyway. He smiled again, pleased to have his hands free and to be let in — he slid past Bruce, offering the guy friendly little pat on the arm as he did so. There, see? That hadn’t been too hard.
The glanced in the direction of the noise of the tea kettle when it went off and sniffed out a little laugh over it. It was so weirdly predictable, even though he’d never even been here before. He followed after taking a few seconds to poke around in the living room.
“Do you have coffee for me to want?” He asked, removing his sunglasses and tucking them away in an inside pocket. ---
“I have a french press and boiling water?” Not that he’d use the water at a boil but it’d only take a moment. As he spoke, he poured a cup of coffee’s worth of water into a mug to cool as he used the rest of the water in the pot to steep his tea with. Tony would probably want the coffee. If nothing else he could fidget with it.
If he didn’t look around too much, or let himself think, he wouldn’t have to realize they weren’t in the tower and this wasn’t his friend. It was a comfort to have the illusion a tiny bit longer. ---
“Then of course I want the coffee,” Tony replied, as if it were obvious. Which is was, because Bruce was already going ahead with making it. And if that didn’t just warm his heart a little, Tony didn’t know what would.
He poked around the kitchen too — less like it was unfamiliar and more like he just genuinely liked knowing what Bruce kept in his fridge and food cabinets. He didn’t bother with and of the cabinetry that would hold plates or cooking ware.
“The gift,” he prompted after a beat, once it looked like Bruce had his stick and leaves soaking in their water. It wasn’t really anything big, or even all that important. Beyond the tissue paper, there was an expensive little block of dark chocolate, and a pack of those weird cigarettes he remembered Bruce saying he favored. They’d been hard to find.
—
Bruce had a shadow of a smile on his face as he made Tony coffee. Keep paying attention to your task and don’t look at him or think about it and it’d be fine. He stayed with it, unperturbed by Tony rummaging in his kitchen. That was far too normal as well. “There’s some leftover quiche in the fridge, or you can have some cheese and crackers. Not much else as far as snacks at the moment.” His cabinets had ingredients to make various dishes, and his fridge stocked with condiments and the usual staples. However, he’d needed to get groceries today so most convenience foods he stocked were out. Oh well, that’d not be happening now.
Glancing at the black bag, he considered it. This was where the illusion would break. This Tony, glancing it was obviously not his, he’d not know him well enough. Sighing softly, he picked up the bag and carefully removed the tissue paper while his tea steeped. Pulling out the dark chocolate, he could tell it was expensive. It would probably be delightfully bitter. He sat it aside, it was a generic gift and while he liked it his Tony would know he liked other sweet treats better. Truly the gift was the pack of cigarettes in the bottom. He smiled, so pleased and warmed to see them. They signified happy things for him, at least as a gift from Tony. Glancing at him, he slipped them in his pocket. “Thanks. Tony always made sure I had these at the tower back home.” It was a nice reminder of the good things of home when he’d needed it.
---
Tony took the suggestion and routed through the fridge a bit more until he found the quiche in question — lifting the covering on it just to make sure it had only stuff he’d actually bother eating in it. He was, and Bruce was probably well aware of this, enormously picky when it came to food. Still, it seemed edible and so he pulled it out completely and shut the fridge with his hip before going in search of a fork.
He watched, not so subtly curious, as Bruce opened the gift. So he’d done right then, at least partly. “The chocolate’s supposed to have some nice health properties,” he explained — because he doubted highly that Bruce’s favorite thing was darkly bitter chocolate, but he seemed like the kind of guy who would weirdly appreciate the fact that it was good for your cholesterol levels — even while he happily pocketed a pack of cigarettes. He waved off the thanks with the back end of his fork (and yes, he was eating directly out of the pie tin, because for all of his proper upbringing, Tony was an absolute heathen in the kitchen) and offered Bruce a raised eyebrow.
---
Tony eating straight from the dish didn’t surprise him. He didn’t even pay it any mind as he fixed Tony’s coffee how he liked it and his own tea, arranging the mugs and the pot for his tea on a little tray and picked it up. “I see.” It was a little strange to be hit again with Tony not really knowing him well enough to know that wasn’t something he was interested in with sweets. But it was thoughtful, in Tony’s way. Ignoring the eyebrow, he started to give an explanation about where he was going and what he was doing but decided to go with the vibe they had going on. It was working as well as anything had with this Tony.
Taking the tray, Bruce went out to his little screened in sun porch. He had put one of those heat lamps out there, but it was warm enough not to need it. He had a table with two comfortable chairs out there, ashtray and zippo already on the table. Placing the tray down he took his mug off to sit by the chair with the cushions that were most worn, obviously his, and grabbed his cigs from his pocket before sitting. He tapped the pack and took the wrapper off. Started to extend it in offer to Tony but stopped himself a bit awkwardly. He gave Tony a grimace of a smile, he’d forgotten for a moment. Then he set about lighting his cigarette, not feeling the need to say anything yet. ---
It wasn’t the best vibe. Tony was — well. He was well aware that this was a man he was meant to be friends with, but hadn’t been patient or happy enough with himself to stay put and actually get to that point in his life. So, he’d missed out, he supposed. And Bruce — well. Bruce probably wanted something from him that Tony was unable to offer of give for the exact same reason.
Mind, it wasn’t the worst vibe, either. They could both at the very least operate in the same room with minimal chatter if need be so… there was that. Not that Tony was particularly interested in a quiet room on the best of days.
Still, he followed along after Bruce and his little tray because that was obviously what he was supposed to do. Instead of taking the seat that looked much less lived in, Tony sat directly on the table next to the tray of drinks (and the quiche that he’d brought with him). “Maybe just the once,” Tony said, a bit awkwardly himself, of the cigarettes — but he didn’t take one until they were firmly settled on the table.
—
It was Bruce’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him, but he still flicked his lighter and offered Tony the light off of it, not handing it over. He had run out of his cigarettes so it was nice to have them back at least. After taking a long drag he relaxed back a bit as he blew the smoke out. Without looking at Tony, he spoke with less of an edge in his voice. “Where’d you find these? I’ve looked but,” he shrugged a shoulder. It would be funny if he was getting them wherever Tony back home had done so. Bruce hadn’t exactly asked him, he’d been grateful that they were there in his apartment along with his groceries and the like.
It was one of the stranger things about leaving everyone and living alone again. Getting used to doing all those things himself, not having his lab, not having his friend. Glancing at Tony, Bruce let himself wonder if maybe he could at least work on having that again. He was going to have to do something if he wanted to seriously work on a cure again. --- "Where does anyone find anything these days?" Tony countered, leaning down low enough to reach the fire and inhaling to get the cigarette cherry properly going. Smoking was probably a bad choice - it hadn't been long now since he'd mastered his issues with the arc reactor and his body was just now finally starting to feel like it ought to normally instead of constantly feeling like death was only a few days away. Or, well, whatever normal was these days. But he had always liked a bad habit, so he wasn't really going to complain. "On the internet."
He sat up straight again, puffed on his cigarette in silence for a moment before picking up his coffee mug. "So," he said, casual as you like, "Heard you had some fun at the beach today."
--
“Mmm.” Bruce hadn’t thought to look on the internet for cigarettes. For some reason he hadn’t thought you could even buy those, but of course you could. He’d have to look into it later when he had the patience for it. While they were mostly a placebo effect, he tried to let it overtake him a bit. He needed to be calm.
Then, Tony shattered what calm he had. Glancing over at him, he felt his hands wanting to shake a little so he pressed one to the arm of the chair, and rested the other on the edge of the table. “Where’d you hear that?” The attempt at casual was an utter failure, but well, it wasn’t like he was anything but a mess today. ---
It was an obvious utter failure, at least. Tony was just as aware of how casual Bruce was not as he was, most likely. And that was fine. Tony wasn't looking for calm and collected, not really.
To be fair, he didn't know quite what he was looking for. He'd just known he was curious and had been since he'd realized who Bruce was. The urge to poke and bother just to test Bruce's monk-like resolve had been incredibly difficult to resist. "The internet," he repeated, because it was true. "I had to talk a guy out of throwing an ice skate at you. What happened?"
---
Frowning, Bruce was momentarily thrown by the thought of the other guy with ice skates thrown at him. It was bizarre. “Why?” he asked before he could stop himself, honestly curious. “That...would be weird.” It wouldn’t hurt the other guy and who knew how he’d react now that he had total control of himself it seemed. That thought gave Bruce a little shudder and he took a long drag off his cig to cover as best he could.
Once he knocked some ash off, he glanced at Tony. Had Tony come to look or asked Natasha about it? It was hard to know what he already knew. At home, Bruce had tried to avoid lying to Tony, and he should probably do that here as well if he wanted his help. Still, it was damn hard to be honest about this. Hell, it’d still sound like a lie. “Two years worth of memories shoved in my brain, “ at least he thought that was what it was, even if he couldn’t remember whatever the other guy was doing then. ---
"Why?" Tony repeated, bemused, "because he was dramatic, I guess?" He hadn't really been paying a lot of attention at the time. He took a drink of his coffee and was warmed by more than the temperature - it was done up one hundred percent how he liked it and he'd never even needed to say so. It was still weird, but -- well. Maybe a little less off-putting than it'd been when he'd gotten here.
"New memories?" He asked, frowning a little at the thought of it. More clarification was needed before he could form any opinion or theories on the matter at all.
---
“I’m from a couple years behind where Natasha is in her timeline, where Steve and Bucky were.” Was he from then any longer? It felt damn real. “I found out what happened to me during that time.” That had his hand shaking enough to put his cigarette down so it was less noticeable he hoped. “They hadn’t seen me, so I assumed I’d went wandering.” It was a good guess, and what he’d done before. “But well, that was true, but a lot farther than South America.” That made him grimace, looking at his trembling hands in his lap.
“I was on another planet, and being the other guy the whole time apparently. No memory of that time, it was… nothing. Not like it is normally when I-” Bruce cut himself off because he could hear the panic rising in his voice. He closed his eyes to take a few deep breaths then sipped at his tea looking for calm again. ---
That recap really only brought up a lot more questions, if Tony was being honest. And they all sort of just varied in degrees of importance and detail. What the fuck where all these people up to so many years in the future? Where did Tony fit into it all (and yes, of course he was thinking about himself right now, too. He was selfish, sometimes)? And had they all really just up and assumed Bruce had wandered off for two years? What kinds of shitty friends were they -- was Tony? He had said that Bruce and him were friends, so what the hell gave with that?
He didn’t ask any of those questions though, only took a drag of his cigarette and then shifted on the table -- pulling one leg up and twisting enough so that he was fully facing Bruce, who was clearly having a bit of a freak out. It was only wise to avoid a big green situation here.
“It stands to reason what you saw was real,” he said after a beat. “Because, if you think about it, Preya fucks with our most basic understanding of linear time and how it works in the universe. Or, well, multiple universes. I’m here from well before you and still somehow exist in your timeline as well.” ---
Bruce appreciated Tony a lot in that moment, that he didn’t question him about any of it despite him having to be curious about it all. Maybe Steve had told Tony about things like he’d done to Bruce? He hoped not, not if it was about Tony fighting Steve and Bucky. That, was not helping him calm down though, so he pushed that thought away and tried to focus on Tony being kind here.
“That...” he brought a hand up to run through his damp hair, “that makes sense. That it could all exist in different points of time. It...it felt real. The memories... I was-” Cutting himself off, Bruce took a drag of his cigarette to give himself a moment to think. “Uh, it was… a lot. I saw our friend, Thor, there. He helped me turn back into myself, I think? Or Nat did?” That was a bit fuzzy, that part. Frowning at Tony he realized he might not know Thor. “Do you know who Thor is? Did you read his file in your timeline yet?” It wasn’t the most important thing at the moment but it was easier to talk about than the new knowledge he’d acquired. ---
Of course it made sense. Tony wasn’t a genius for no reason. He’d given this subject some thought lately -- probably not nearly as much as it deserved, but a start was a start. Anyway, pocket universes probably required a bit more time than what he allowed them while he was in the shower.
“Nat did, earlier today,” Tony pointed out. Maybe that was why he was getting it confused? Hell if he really knew. He couldn’t say. “But you’re you now, so that’s something, huh?” It wasn’t the best attempt at comfort, but then, Tony was never great at that sort of thing. “And no, I don’t know any Thor. Sounds --uh. What? Norse?” ---
“Yeah. She was great.” He was lucky to have her as a friend and it made him relax a little from the tense pose he’d been in to think of her. “She call and tell you?” Her and Tony seemed to have been fast friends here. He was glad someone from the team could do that since he hadn’t had much luck so far.
Then he remembered the rest of what he’d seen and probably the most important part to share with anyone who knew the other guy. “I can’t change again!” He said, sitting up on the edge of his chair and turning more towards Tony. He gestured with both hands, careless of his cigarette. “That’s the thing! I don’t know why I was trapped as the other guy for two years, but I was. If I turn again… I don’t know if I’d come back out of it. Maybe I got lucky because I was here?“ He’d been promised he wouldn’t hurt anyone else so maybe some of Preya’s magic helped? Either way, he was not going to test it and find out. “I can’t change!” If he said it forcefully enough maybe it would be true? ---
“She didn’t call,” Tony said, but didn’t further explain. It was probably kinda weird to just out and say that he’d shown up to watch from a distance. Even if he’d been ready to lend a hand if it had been deemed necessary -- which it hadn’t. Probably for the best, since Iron Man wasn’t much of a negotiator.
Wholly unsure of what to do over Bruce’s slight freak out, Tony leaned back a little, eyebrows raised and mouth set in a thoughtful line. “Okay,” he said after a beat, equally resolute. “So don’t, right?” As if it were that easy. Tony figured that wasn’t the case, but suspected quite a lot that Bruce put a lot of willpower into it. ---
Don’t? Well, yes, wasn’t that the simple answer. Not one that’d offered any strategy, but simple. Bruce stared at Tony a moment, not moving. Then he shook his head and leaned back in his chair again, the panic draining out as he forced it down. He ashed his cigarette and lit another one, because obviously he wasn’t doing that great at staying calm.
“I need a cure. That’s the only solution long term. I had found balance before with control, the other guy. But obviously that failed. Until I know why it did, preventing them entirely seems the best course of action.” ---
It was sort of funny, actually being able to see the tension draining from Bruce. What an interesting and strange man he was. Tony knew it was probably awful of him, but he thought the man a lot more intriguing now than he had something like a week ago. It was unfair to Bruce, of course, but Tony couldn’t help himself. He liked a mystery, a challenge.
“Well,” he said glancing down at his cigarette and ashing it but not actually bothering to take another drag. “So we work on a cure.” How hard could it possibly be to cure a freak gamma radiation accident, right?
--- He’d wondered if he’d have to bargain or barter in some way to get access to Tony’s lab space. A far cry from how it’d went the first time they’d met. But here Tony was again, surprising him. It caused a small private smile to form. He let Tony see it but kept quiet. Bruce knew better than to comment on that kindness.
“I have all the work so far an encrypted portable drive.” He’d at least thought to access those and take them from the quinjet. Losing his research wasn’t an option. Tony had helped him with bits and pieces before. The parts that Bruce could bear with showing someone. Now though, he’d have to be more willing to share. He’d not been able to figure out working mostly alone, perhaps with Tony’s help they could find the answer.