Sierra (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
draconicseraphim) wrote2012-06-06 11:55 am
draconicseraphim) wrote2012-06-06 11:55 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Strange Comforts
Canon: Avengers- movieverse
Characters: Stark Spangled Banner
Word Count: 1939
Summary: Only I can see lovely Tony/Steve art and get Bruce feels from it.
It was so much harder to keep track of the time without Tony in the lab, on those rare days when Pepper would steal him away for business things. It was lonely which was something Bruce preferred not to think about. He'd been on his own for so many years now how could a few weeks (or had it been months now?) with the others.... the "Avengers" already make him feel lonely when they weren't around?
And that wasn't even the first sign that he was getting comfortable here, too comfortable, dangerously so. Too attached to too many people. On days like these where it was just him in the lab and JARVIS' quiet response to the few inquiries he'd make throughout the day it was hard not to think about it, not to think that this was dangerous in so many ways, a dangerous game he was playing and it would destroy him or everyone else eventually. It was hard not to check airline schedules, or pull out that faded leather duffle bag that was still tucked away in his closet (or worse the pistol inside it, just in case, just to feel the weight of it because once not so long ago that was comfortable).
So without Tony in the lab to distract him from wandering thoughts (because really it was quite the task to keep Tony's thoughts from wandering and somehow that had become his job more than JARVIS' these days) he buried himself in even more work than usual. He would juggle multiple experiments, timing things just so, face pressed to a microscope more often than not. He'd ask JARVIS to have something delivered but only after the AI suggested it at 2 in the afternoon and then it would sit uneaten and getting cold until almost 5.
Because working was easier than admitting that he liked it here. That he enjoyed Tony's company or that the days when Steve was bored enough of the city to come and sit in the lab and watch them work were some of the best days he could remember in a long time. That he looked forward to Thursday lunches with Pepper, long lunches with tea and exotic foods that she indulged him in because by Thursday she needed to get away for a couple of hours and just unwind, even if the conversation inevitably turned back to work, to Tony, to all of the problems he wasn't handling. But somehow venting her frustrations and having amazing food to go with it made her anger shift to something like fond exasperation by the end of the meal.
He liked going into the city with Steve and Tony on the weekends, even though they always bickered over what to do because Steve had grown up here and there was something comfortable about losing himself in the city and Bruce had lost himself in so many cities that it was comfortable for him too. But Tony was not a man easily lost and his incessent need to do usually trumped them. Every now and then though Tony would be busy or too tired to argue and some ice cream on a bench in Central Park watching Steve create something far more beautiful than their science could ever manage out of charcoal and paper was all they needed.
And that he loved and hated Fridays because after Thursday lunches with Pepper he would inevitably help bully Tony into doing business things on Fridays and sometimes, most times, that meant he was gone all day. So Bruce worked alone, like he had been for nearly a decade, but it was different now, harder, more lonely and that's not how it was supposed to be. After Tony had done everything he could in one day for Pepper and Bruce had done perhaps more than he should have tried to do in one day and Steve had done the catching up with the others thing he tended to do on Fridays. Then the three of them would collapse on the couch in Tony's living room and watch movies, eat pizza, and make sure Tony didn't drink and talk about their week, what Steve's latest endeavor into the modern world was, how Clint and Natasha were, if there was any word from Thor (or Nick and Maria for that matter because sometimes they felt just as far away and sometimes Bruce was okay with that but sometimes he wasn't and that was dangerous too).
But it was hard to keep track of the time when Tony wasn't with him in the lab and this Friday it was much later than he thought when he finally closed things up and he wondered why Tony hadn't texted him or told JARVIS to kick him out of the lab (or told JARVIS to play nothing but yodeling tracks at ear-splitting levels in the lab in an attempt to force him out but that had annoyed Tony before it had gotten to Bruce so the next time he tried rap and that was much more efficient). After spending another day pretending this was okay, that he wasn't lonely or that if he was it was alright, it made him wonder if he wasn't just getting in the way, if he wasn't being bothersome and really maybe it would be better to go.
He made his way up to Tony's apartment anyway, though, and maybe that was dangerous too, letting himself reach out for that contact and interaction when it wasn't requested. And by the time he made it up to Tony's floor he was wondering if maybe he shouldn't have just gone to bed. The movie was probably over by now anyway and the pizza would have been cold long ago. But the doors of Tony's not-so-private-anymore elevator opened mercilessly and he had no choice but to walk into the apartment... which was mostly dark, save for the lights of the balcony still on and one in the kitchen and the soft blue glow from the living room that was not from the TV. Bruce had an idea what that was before he let himself move closer, just to be sure.
It was cute and strangely intimate and at that moment he felt certain that he was intruding, that he was right to think that maybe he was taking things for granted and that it was time for him to leave, that he'd been here too long and was getting too comfortable. Because it was intimate and he'd have to be blind not to know there'd always been something there. Tony was still sitting on the couch, fast asleep and listing to the right, the blue glow of the reactor illuminating Steve's face. The blond was out too, using Tony's thigh as a pillow and with a book flattened over his chest as though he'd been using Tony as a reading lamp. And Bruce didn't know what to do because it was cute and intimate and should not make his lips quirk up in a rare, genuine smile or make him feel this odd little surge of affection that it did and somehow at the same time make him feel more lonely and broken and lost than ever.
He quietly moved around the couch, pausing to clear the end table of its lamp and Steve's forgotten root beer can because the blond was really too tall to be sleeping on a whole couch never mind two thirds of one even though he seemed to forget that from time to time, how impressively tall he was. Then Bruce was slipping silently into Tony's bedroom, retrieving a blanket and some pillows. coming back to gently tuck a pillow in between Tony and the arm of the couch, something to help support him so he wouldn't fall over entirely and have his back regretting the decision to sleep on the couch come morning. The blanket he draped over Steve and it wasn't until he lifted the book carefully away from the other man's chest so that he could find something to use as a bookmark that he realized Tony's hand was on Steve's chest, Steve's own hand settled over it, their fingers twined together in a way that he knew would be painful for Steve's wrist in the morning but neither seemed willing to let go, even in sleep.
It was a strange conflict, at once happy, pleased, content... and feeling like one's heart had been crushed. Which was silly and ridiculous and he should just be happy that the something he'd always known was there was finally starting to be something a little more. It was good, they were good together, always challenging and pushing just like Tony preferred and now he felt foolish for insisting on going with them into the city so many weekends, for involving himself where he didn't belong. Bruce smiled again, forced and strained and for no one's benefit but sometimes you had to pretend for yourself.
So he tugged the blanket up over their twined hands and he slid one of the coasters awkwardly between the pages of Steve's book to be sure he didn't lose his spot and he smiled because he should be happy for them and he should be glad that this strangely comfortable utterly dangerous game could finally come to a close. There were chairs, of course there were, but somehow he found himself sitting on the floor beside the couch, feeling like an intruder but watching them sleep anyway because this at least was something he wanted to remember. Not this feeling, oddly painful and awkward and disconcerting like he didn't belong, like he never had, but the quieter feeling under it, that this was good and he was glad for them and it was okay for him to stop pretending he belonged because they would be okay now... like all he'd been waiting for was something to show him that they could take care of themselves by taking care of each other.
So he watched them sleep and kept his phone tilted to the side as if the glow of the screen would wake them despite the glow of the reactor and he looked at airline schedules and recalled places he'd been or places he hadn't and wondered if there was anywhere left in the world for him to lose himself. China? Malaysia? The Philippines? Should he leave tonight or wait for morning? He could always email Tony his notes, explain what he'd been trying to do and surely Tony would understand and make breakthroughs and earn more recognition for it and leaving this behind shouldn't be hard so why did this hurt?
Nine years living out of a duffle bag, never knowing where he'd be the next week, the next day and somehow in a few months everything was complicated and different and suddenly hard when it had been so easy before. He had more questions than answers and though he'd have said he could debate everything in his head until the sun came up he couldn't, it had been too long a day and his heart hadn't been tugged in so many directions in years and though he should've pulled himself away, should've fled, should've recognized that he was no longer needed (maybe had never been needed) and disappeared into the night, he stayed and he watched them sleep and eventually his head leaned against the edge of the couch and against Steve's thigh and he slept, his phone still in hand showing him the routes through which he could escape if only he had the heart to.
Canon: Avengers- movieverse
Characters: Stark Spangled Banner
Word Count: 1939
Summary: Only I can see lovely Tony/Steve art and get Bruce feels from it.
It was so much harder to keep track of the time without Tony in the lab, on those rare days when Pepper would steal him away for business things. It was lonely which was something Bruce preferred not to think about. He'd been on his own for so many years now how could a few weeks (or had it been months now?) with the others.... the "Avengers" already make him feel lonely when they weren't around?
And that wasn't even the first sign that he was getting comfortable here, too comfortable, dangerously so. Too attached to too many people. On days like these where it was just him in the lab and JARVIS' quiet response to the few inquiries he'd make throughout the day it was hard not to think about it, not to think that this was dangerous in so many ways, a dangerous game he was playing and it would destroy him or everyone else eventually. It was hard not to check airline schedules, or pull out that faded leather duffle bag that was still tucked away in his closet (or worse the pistol inside it, just in case, just to feel the weight of it because once not so long ago that was comfortable).
So without Tony in the lab to distract him from wandering thoughts (because really it was quite the task to keep Tony's thoughts from wandering and somehow that had become his job more than JARVIS' these days) he buried himself in even more work than usual. He would juggle multiple experiments, timing things just so, face pressed to a microscope more often than not. He'd ask JARVIS to have something delivered but only after the AI suggested it at 2 in the afternoon and then it would sit uneaten and getting cold until almost 5.
Because working was easier than admitting that he liked it here. That he enjoyed Tony's company or that the days when Steve was bored enough of the city to come and sit in the lab and watch them work were some of the best days he could remember in a long time. That he looked forward to Thursday lunches with Pepper, long lunches with tea and exotic foods that she indulged him in because by Thursday she needed to get away for a couple of hours and just unwind, even if the conversation inevitably turned back to work, to Tony, to all of the problems he wasn't handling. But somehow venting her frustrations and having amazing food to go with it made her anger shift to something like fond exasperation by the end of the meal.
He liked going into the city with Steve and Tony on the weekends, even though they always bickered over what to do because Steve had grown up here and there was something comfortable about losing himself in the city and Bruce had lost himself in so many cities that it was comfortable for him too. But Tony was not a man easily lost and his incessent need to do usually trumped them. Every now and then though Tony would be busy or too tired to argue and some ice cream on a bench in Central Park watching Steve create something far more beautiful than their science could ever manage out of charcoal and paper was all they needed.
And that he loved and hated Fridays because after Thursday lunches with Pepper he would inevitably help bully Tony into doing business things on Fridays and sometimes, most times, that meant he was gone all day. So Bruce worked alone, like he had been for nearly a decade, but it was different now, harder, more lonely and that's not how it was supposed to be. After Tony had done everything he could in one day for Pepper and Bruce had done perhaps more than he should have tried to do in one day and Steve had done the catching up with the others thing he tended to do on Fridays. Then the three of them would collapse on the couch in Tony's living room and watch movies, eat pizza, and make sure Tony didn't drink and talk about their week, what Steve's latest endeavor into the modern world was, how Clint and Natasha were, if there was any word from Thor (or Nick and Maria for that matter because sometimes they felt just as far away and sometimes Bruce was okay with that but sometimes he wasn't and that was dangerous too).
But it was hard to keep track of the time when Tony wasn't with him in the lab and this Friday it was much later than he thought when he finally closed things up and he wondered why Tony hadn't texted him or told JARVIS to kick him out of the lab (or told JARVIS to play nothing but yodeling tracks at ear-splitting levels in the lab in an attempt to force him out but that had annoyed Tony before it had gotten to Bruce so the next time he tried rap and that was much more efficient). After spending another day pretending this was okay, that he wasn't lonely or that if he was it was alright, it made him wonder if he wasn't just getting in the way, if he wasn't being bothersome and really maybe it would be better to go.
He made his way up to Tony's apartment anyway, though, and maybe that was dangerous too, letting himself reach out for that contact and interaction when it wasn't requested. And by the time he made it up to Tony's floor he was wondering if maybe he shouldn't have just gone to bed. The movie was probably over by now anyway and the pizza would have been cold long ago. But the doors of Tony's not-so-private-anymore elevator opened mercilessly and he had no choice but to walk into the apartment... which was mostly dark, save for the lights of the balcony still on and one in the kitchen and the soft blue glow from the living room that was not from the TV. Bruce had an idea what that was before he let himself move closer, just to be sure.
It was cute and strangely intimate and at that moment he felt certain that he was intruding, that he was right to think that maybe he was taking things for granted and that it was time for him to leave, that he'd been here too long and was getting too comfortable. Because it was intimate and he'd have to be blind not to know there'd always been something there. Tony was still sitting on the couch, fast asleep and listing to the right, the blue glow of the reactor illuminating Steve's face. The blond was out too, using Tony's thigh as a pillow and with a book flattened over his chest as though he'd been using Tony as a reading lamp. And Bruce didn't know what to do because it was cute and intimate and should not make his lips quirk up in a rare, genuine smile or make him feel this odd little surge of affection that it did and somehow at the same time make him feel more lonely and broken and lost than ever.
He quietly moved around the couch, pausing to clear the end table of its lamp and Steve's forgotten root beer can because the blond was really too tall to be sleeping on a whole couch never mind two thirds of one even though he seemed to forget that from time to time, how impressively tall he was. Then Bruce was slipping silently into Tony's bedroom, retrieving a blanket and some pillows. coming back to gently tuck a pillow in between Tony and the arm of the couch, something to help support him so he wouldn't fall over entirely and have his back regretting the decision to sleep on the couch come morning. The blanket he draped over Steve and it wasn't until he lifted the book carefully away from the other man's chest so that he could find something to use as a bookmark that he realized Tony's hand was on Steve's chest, Steve's own hand settled over it, their fingers twined together in a way that he knew would be painful for Steve's wrist in the morning but neither seemed willing to let go, even in sleep.
It was a strange conflict, at once happy, pleased, content... and feeling like one's heart had been crushed. Which was silly and ridiculous and he should just be happy that the something he'd always known was there was finally starting to be something a little more. It was good, they were good together, always challenging and pushing just like Tony preferred and now he felt foolish for insisting on going with them into the city so many weekends, for involving himself where he didn't belong. Bruce smiled again, forced and strained and for no one's benefit but sometimes you had to pretend for yourself.
So he tugged the blanket up over their twined hands and he slid one of the coasters awkwardly between the pages of Steve's book to be sure he didn't lose his spot and he smiled because he should be happy for them and he should be glad that this strangely comfortable utterly dangerous game could finally come to a close. There were chairs, of course there were, but somehow he found himself sitting on the floor beside the couch, feeling like an intruder but watching them sleep anyway because this at least was something he wanted to remember. Not this feeling, oddly painful and awkward and disconcerting like he didn't belong, like he never had, but the quieter feeling under it, that this was good and he was glad for them and it was okay for him to stop pretending he belonged because they would be okay now... like all he'd been waiting for was something to show him that they could take care of themselves by taking care of each other.
So he watched them sleep and kept his phone tilted to the side as if the glow of the screen would wake them despite the glow of the reactor and he looked at airline schedules and recalled places he'd been or places he hadn't and wondered if there was anywhere left in the world for him to lose himself. China? Malaysia? The Philippines? Should he leave tonight or wait for morning? He could always email Tony his notes, explain what he'd been trying to do and surely Tony would understand and make breakthroughs and earn more recognition for it and leaving this behind shouldn't be hard so why did this hurt?
Nine years living out of a duffle bag, never knowing where he'd be the next week, the next day and somehow in a few months everything was complicated and different and suddenly hard when it had been so easy before. He had more questions than answers and though he'd have said he could debate everything in his head until the sun came up he couldn't, it had been too long a day and his heart hadn't been tugged in so many directions in years and though he should've pulled himself away, should've fled, should've recognized that he was no longer needed (maybe had never been needed) and disappeared into the night, he stayed and he watched them sleep and eventually his head leaned against the edge of the couch and against Steve's thigh and he slept, his phone still in hand showing him the routes through which he could escape if only he had the heart to.