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“I’ve read all your articles, Dr Banner. Tony calls you Bruce by the way, do you mind if I call you Bruce too? Never mind, that was a stupid question, of course I can’t call you Bruce, that would be weird. You’re Doctor Bruce Banner for gosh sake, the man with seven PhDs. Seven! How did you even do that? That is incredible-” Harley kept rambling on, no end in sight. Tony just stepped into the lab, having slight difficulties keeping up with Harley when the young boy outran him through the halls of Stark Tower, energetic as always, never slowing down in anything he did. Gosh, he was getting old, Tony thought to himself, smiling nonetheless. Not being able to keep up with a twelve-year-old boy, that was a new low. And now Harley was talking Bruce’s ears off of his head. Tony could have predicted it. Why didn’t he see it coming? He is a genius after all. Oh yes, because he is not particularly good at predicting these kinds of things. He looked at Bruce. Just minutes ago said man was working on his next project. Brown pants and black shoes sticking out from under his white lab coat. A yellow collar just peeking out on the top. His hair was slightly too long, something the scientist tended to forget about when he was immersed in a project, the brown curls sticking in every direction, disobeying the laws of gravity, despite belonging to a world-renounced scientist (“with seven PhDs!” Harley repeated again). Strands of grey were slowly colonizing the brown colour of the hair around his temples, winning more ground every day. He was staring intently at a purple substance in a petri dish, writing things down in his indecipherable handwriting, his glasses forgotten on the tip of his nose. It was a sign of complete concentration when he forgot to push them back up the bridge of his nose. He did not expect to be disturbed, it was one of those unspoken rules of living in the Tower; do not disturb Bruce when he is sciencing, unless absolutely necessary. It very rarely caused a Code Green, but an angry Bruce could be quite terrifying as well.
So Tony was ready to call the suit and fly Harley out of there faster than Bruce could say ‘radiation sickness’, always expecting the unexpected. Against Tony’s better judgment though, Bruce didn’t really seem to mind the presence of the over-energetic twelve-year-old. The scientist did jump at the unexpected sound, causing the glasses to actually fall off his nose and onto the desk, but Tony couldn’t see any green in those familiar, warm, big, brown eyes. He watched how Harley kept talking, completely unaware of Tony’s worried thoughts, somehow giving Bruce the distraction he needed. For the first time in quite a while the scientist smiled. Not one of those typically Bruce-like small half smiles. This was a real smile. A teeth showing, nose crinkling, eye shutting, clearly audible kind of smile. And Tony loved it. In fact, it took so much of Tony’s attention that he didn’t even realize Harley and Bruce were having a conversation until the twelve-year-old repeatedly said his name.
“Right, Tony?” Harley asked, wanting a confirmation that what he just said was right, without really looking in Tony’s direction. When he didn’t get an answer within the next second Harley turned to face Tony.
“Tony?!” Tony looked up to see a pair of blue eyes looking up at him impatiently. The boy's blond hair was messy because of all the running around. Tony shortly wondered if it ever was not messy, given that Harley was blessed with the inability to sit still. Tony’s gaze shifted to Bruce. As soon as the scientist realized he was being looked at his eyes focussed back on Harley, but the twinkle in his eyes didn’t go away and neither did the smile. Although it was now reduced to a genuine, but typically Bruce-like half smile.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said. But I am sure you are right, as always.” Tony said to Harley, not able to wipe the dumb and happy smile off his face. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair to shift the attention to something else than his hurting cheeks. Bruce chuckled softly and Tony was lost again. He made a promise to himself to try and make the scientist laugh more often.
“Oh come on Tony, I was just telling Dr Banner about the new potato gun I made, after the example you gave me. I did quite good for a first time, didn’t I?” Harley asked again, still wanting his confirmation.
“Yes Harley, your Mark III prototype was a high point in the history of potato gun engineering.” Tony said with a sarcastic undertone of which he was certain would be too light for the twelve-year-old to understand. But Tony had a bad habit of underestimating Harley Keener.
“Just like your Mark II was a high point in the history of gold-titanium alloy suits that can power itself via the miniaturised arc reactor embedded in your chest and are controlled by an all-controlling artificial intelligence system, right Tony?” The sentence came out fluidly, almost like the boy had practised it in front of the mirror, but Tony knew him well enough to know that this was completely natural. “There being no history makes the start automatically a high point.” Harley said and refrained himself from sticking his tong out at Tony, but only because he was in the presence of one of the best scientists in the world, and one of his heroes. Tony, on the other hand, did not have the same problem. Bruce, as well as Jolly Green, were quite good friends of his and both knew he could behave just like a child.
Harley right out screeched when Tony’s hands attacked his sides, tickling him without mercy. Within seconds both were wiggling around on the ground, laughing. Tony was pinning Harley's legs down to the ground with one leg, using the other to keep his balance, while his hands still hadn’t left the boys side. Harley was trying to squirm his way out, but Tony had learned from last time (when Tony had ended up with Harleys foot in his stomach, hunched over in pain while still laughing, making breathing quite a difficult task) and wasn’t giving him any space. The lab was filled with the happy laughter of the twelve-year-old boy and the forty-three-year-old engineer. It wasn’t until Tony recognised another, much softer, kind of laugh when he realized that Bruce was still there as well. How could he forget? His hands stopped tickling and he took a much-needed breath, looking down at the boy to make sure it was safe to remove his leg without ending up with a foot in his stomach again. When Harley met his gaze, still smiling like crazy, the engineer stood up and offered the boy his hand. Who swatted it away with a happy smirk on his face and demonstratively stood up without any help. Tony was looking at Bruce sheepishly, one hand rubbing his neck and so effectively covering the blush that crept up to his face. Years of practice made sure the blush never reached his face and he was sure neither noticed, but it nevertheless made Tony aware of the impact Bruce could have on him without meaning to.
Bruce's eyes were focussed on Harley, making sure he got enough oxygen, but the boy was used to getting playfully attacked, either by his mother, his little sister, or Tony.
“Looked like you were having fun.” Bruce chuckled. Then his gaze shifted to Tony and he continued:
“But maybe next time not in a lab with flammable, explosive, or potentially dangerous substances? Wouldn’t want the Other Guy to come out to save you and destroy the lab in the process, would we?” Honestly, Tony thought, he himself might be pretty good at the sarcastic remark kind of thing, but Bruce was the true master. So in true Tony-fashion the engineer replied:
“Yes master Bruce, we won’t do it again.” Bruce chuckled again at the nickname, Tony had called him that before although the scientist wasn’t yet sure where exactly it came from. He would never say it out loud, but he kind of liked the sound of it. Knowing Tony though, he might not like it as much when he figured out the meaning, so he decided to enjoy it as long as it lasted.
Harley ducked his head, pretending to be ashamed, but actually hiding the big grin still painting his face. Tony ruffled a hand through the boy's already messy hair and mumbled something Bruce couldn’t understand, but apparently, it was funny because Harley let out a muffled snort. It sounded suspiciously much like: “Grandpa Banner”. The scientist smiled watching Tony and Harley walk out of the lab. The engineers surprisingly not grease-stained hand on the boy's shoulder.
“Harley?” Bruce said when they were about to walk through the door. Harley turned around, his face a big question mark (really, the boy was an open book when it came to expressions) while a smile still played around lips.
“You can call me Bruce, if you want to.”