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Shivering bunched his already-tense muscles and gave a pained curl to his lip. Hulking out during a particularly intense meltdown? Not his idea of a fun time. His head pounded in time with his heartbeat—heavy, thudding, two-fold; Hulk was still lurking in the back of his brain, ready to come out at the slightest sensory provocation.
He was always cold after a Hulk-out. To him, this was a scientific contradiction—why was he frigid when his muscles were more worked-over than a marathon runner’s? Following this train of thought was taxing enough. Hulk gnashed his teeth at him and he stopped trying to think.
Cold. He was so cold... curling up in the blankets he always kept on the floor of his closet yielded no warmth. He needed... he needed...
The door opened. Creaking wood set his teeth on edge. but then there were strong arms snaking around him, holding him snugly against a broad chest. Somatically, he had no conscious choice but to curl into the close comfort.
Thor rumbled agreeably. "Hello, my sweet." Bruce could only give a sleepy murmur in response... words had been difficult all week and had culminated in an explosive meltdown and an appearance from Hulk.
Things were just so hard lately... but the simple ease with which Thor held him, the way he put just enough pressure on his chest--enough to soothe and calm him, but not enough to restrict or restrain... it was absolutely perfect.
He settled into Thor's chest and, letting out a sigh, and finally let his thoughts drift.