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Bruce rubs his eyes, glaring at the machine that is currently scanning his sample. The machine hasn't done anything wrong, but this sample was supposed to be done hours ago, and the old thing was slow, left over from his college days.
"C'mon, c'mon." Bruce feels his skin start to go green as he grits his teeth. He doesn't particularly like the sensation, but it keeps him grounded. "Just a little more..."
The machine beeps loudly and exhales a cloud of smoke with a sharp whine. Bruce slams the table, swearing loudly.
"Goddammit!" Bruce stands and walks away, forcing a few deep breaths as he stalks about. Hulking out was not going to do him any favors, especially not since there was nowhere for him to go. He ran a hand through his hair, which was getting irritatingly long, snagging his fingers on various knots. He's tired, and irritated, and nothing was fucking working the way it was supposed to, and-
"Bruce?" A voice behind him distracts him, and he realizes he's dangerously close to hulking out. He forces another deep breath, then nods once to show he's listening. "Are you ok? I can come back if this is a bad time..."
Bruce turns to face the owner of the voice; in this case, one Bucky Barnes. Bucky grips nervously at his arm, refusing to maintain eye contact. For some idiotic reason, that bothers Bruce.
"No, it's not a good time. It's pretty terrible, actually, but it doesn't matter. I can't fix it right now. What do you need?" Bruce snaps, a little sharper than he had intended. It feels good, being so flippant with someone other than himself.
"Are you sure you're ok? I don't wanna bother you-"
"Well, you are, so if you make it quick, we can both go on our way".
Bruce looks up as he says that, and Bucky looks a little like he's been slapped, his knuckles white around the corner of his sleeve. Bruce remembers faintly that Bucky has a nervous habit of playing with his left sleeve, and feels a small pang of guilt, which passes quickly. Bucky shouldn't even be up. He shouldn't be up, but that stupid machine had decided to fucking break, and then break again two seconds from scan completion.
"Bruce?" Bucky said, and when Bruce looks up, he is closer. "When was the last time you slept?"
That sends another wave of irritation through him. He's not some reckless idiot, he knows that he should sleep regularly. How dare anyone try to imply that he was- that he could-
It occurs to Bruce that he had no idea why he was so angry. That probably wasn't good.
"It's... It's fine." Bruce waves it off, turning to face Bucky again. "What did you need?"
"I need a refill on those sleeping pills. You said you had new ones?"
Oh. Crap. Bruce takes another deep breath, and something inside of him makes peace with the fact that this wasn't going to end well. He turns away, sharp bits of anger hitting his mind.
"I did. Or I would, if your little experiment with Peter hadn't torched them." Bruce hisses, turning back towards the broken machine. "I don't know if you just went for the only thing that said "melatonin" or if there was even an actual reason, but you set them all on fire, and I was making new ones, but SOMEBODY decided to torch my machine as well, so it broke two seconds from scan completion, and now I have to fix the damn thing before I can use it".
Bucky starts to ask a question, but Bruce cuts him off with a low growl.
"And before you ask, yes, the scan is completely necessary. I need to make sure the ingredients are bonding well with each other, lest I wind up poisoning somebody. Not that I haven't ever killed anyone as the Hulk, but I don't like the feeling".
Mentioning the Hulk was a mistake; Bruce can feel the outburst before it ever left his mouth.
"I don't know why I bother explaining this to anyone. Most of you are too stupid to understand what I'm saying, and the people who do are either blabbermouths or Tony, and Tony just has no people skills. But I wouldn't expect you to know that given that you spent half a century killing people and being frozen in a tube somewhere. It's not like you can learn anything while you're locked in the back of your mind, stuck while someone else destroys everything".
That's more a jab at himself than at Bucky, and he knows it. Bucky hasn't said anything, which, again, ticks him off for no apparent reason.
"I'm so fucking tired of everyone on this team needing something from me when I don't even want to be here. I didn't ask for this shit! I just wanted to produce medications and study biological anomalies, but noooooooo! I just had to go messing with gamma radiation and the stupid Captian America serum! Just had to get hit and fucking survive, only to have a monster stuck in me that I have no control over, just had to draw attention to myself when I was off grid, or however the hell they found me. I just had to get dragged into this!"
Bruce is pissed, and he's tired, and he can feel Bucky come up behind him, saying his name softly, as if to calm him down. But he doesn't want to be calmed down, he wants the ability to be pissed without being worried he's going to kill someone, and he can't have that. He doesn't get that choice anymore, it was taken from him.
Bucky lays a hand on his shoulder, and Bruce whirls on him, smacking him across the face hard. A brief twist of guilt hits him, but it's not enough to calm his rage. He's vaguely aware that he's screaming at Bucky, who just looks terrified, and then he feels the words "get out" cross his tongue. Bucky stands and all but runs from the room, small tears leaking from his eyes as he turns away. Bruce huffs, panting from his outburst, but he doesn't feel guilty and he certainly doesn't feel sleepy, so he turns back to the broken machine.
"Jar? Does Tony still try and sneak booze into my fridge?" Bruce is hardly aware that he spoke. He hasn't drunk anything since his junior year of college, but he doesn't know what else to do, and at the very least it'll knock him out.
What's one more bad decision for the night?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tony glares at projection that Jarvis is broadcasting on his bedroom wall. For the third time in as many days, he's gotten out of the lab at a decent hour, has been sleeping soundly, and has even gotten enough food when he's awake. He has no idea where it came from, but he doesn't mind.
Pepper stirs next to him, and he motions for Jarvis to direct the call to his cell. He takes it to the penthouse's living room, muttering some choice words as he hits "answer".
"I was in the middle of the first halfway decent sleep I've gotten in three years. It better be good".
"Something's wrong with Banner." The voice on the other end sounds like it's been crying, which is interesting. Even more interesting is the fact that it sounds like Bucky, which is probably who it is, now that Tony's a little more awake.
"Right, and you called me because of my dazzling interpersonal skills?"
"I called you because you're his friend. And you might get through to him".
"Right, ok." Tony groans, sliding a hand down his face. "And what the hell is it that can't wait until morning?"
"It technically is morning".
"Ok, 1, I hate that excuse, 2, Now I can't ever use it again because if Pepper knew how much I hated it, I'd never live it down, and 3, no it fucking isn't".
"Techincally, Sir, it is morning. The current time is 2:48 AM." Jarvis says softly. Tony glares at the ceiling.
"Traitor. Ok, fine, it's morning. Bruce is a big boy, he's probably just crabby you woke him up. Get him some coffee, he'll be good to go".
"He never was asleep in the first place." Bucky says as Tony starts moving his hand to hang up.
That gets his attention. Bruce doesn't pull all-nighters, not without Tony being a little shit and egging him on. Bruce is the good one, the one who takes care of his body and listens to people when they tell him he should stop.
"Ok, run me through what happened?" Tony asks, and Bucky starts telling him about what went down in Bruce's lab.
By the time Bucky gets to the part where Bruce slapped him, Tony is so shocked he can hardly think. Bruce doesn't do things like this. Bruce NEVER does things like this. Bruce is the exact opposite of Tony, sweet and patient and aware, and Bruce never does things like this.
"What the hell?" Tony says when Bucky finally stops talking. "Are-are you sure?"
"You callin' me a liar, Stark?" Bucky's voice goes cold, and Tony realizes that this is actually happening.
"No, no, I'm not calling you a- Bucky, you gotta understand that- What I mean is- This just doesn't-" Tony takes a breath, then re-centers. "Bruce doesn't do things like this".
"Maybe he's good at hiding it".
"No, if he was gonna go off on someone, it would have been me. Trust me, I'm annoying as all hell".
"Thought you were an arrogant crackpot?"
"No, I am, but that doesn't mean I can't see my flaws, it just means I won't own up to them." Tony gives a ghost of a smile, then starts heading to the elevator. "I'll go check on him, if you want".
"I just want to make sure he's ok. Like you said, Bruce doesn't do that".
"Yeah. Anything I should be aware of?"
"He's not gonna be happy to see you".
"Hardly anyone is. I mean, I know I'm a problem child but still".
"Tony".
"He's gonna be pissed, noted. I'll call you if I need help".
Tony steps into the elevator and asks Jarvis for Bruce's floor.
"As you wish, Sir, but you should note that Dr. Banner-"
"Yeah, I got that already. Take me up".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce is playing with the rim of his beer bottle when he hears a soft "oh, Jesus" from the direction of the elevator. He lifts his head, glaring at the intruder.
Tony stares back at him, not quite making eye contact, more just looking at him. Something that looks to be a mix of fear, shock and- was that pity? Was Tony really pitying him? Fuck that, Tony was a reckless jackass who got on everyone's nerves. He doesn't need pity.
"Brucie Bear, I'm all for working till the job's done, but Jesus, this is not how you wanna start." Tony steps over a fallen centrifuge- Had he knocked it over? He doesn't remember- and starts picking up papers from the floor, which is littered with research, notes, and a few broken bottles. Which doesn't change the fact that Tony is in his lab and is a stupid asshole who shouldn't be in his lab.
"Go away." Bruce feels the words come out in a way that feels... heavy. He doesn't know how else to describe it. Ideas and formulae push and swirl inside his head, and as he slides his finger around the top of the bottle again, it falls over, spilling on notes that were probably something important an hour ago. Bruce just stares at the mess, blinking slowly.
"Are you drunk?" The accusation flashes through his mind, words he'd never thought he'd hear again. He feels that harsh anger flare through him, quickly dulled by the sharp buzz in his head. The booze is wearing off again, and as he sits up and gropes for another bottle, Tony comes back into his view. "You didn't answer my question".
"No." Bruce feels his head pulling him in one direction or the other, the weight inside sloshing around. He manages to curl his hand around the neck of a bottle, which is quickly pulled from his grasp. "Hey!"
"You have definitely had enough, Brucie. C'mon, let's get you to bed, we can talk in the morning".
That ticks him off, because Tony has no right to talk about being drunk in the lab. The amount of times Bruce has found him passed out next to a bottle of vodka...
"Fuck you." Bruce tries to stand, to walk away, but the floor jumps under him, and he has to lean against the table, which feels like it's sliding away from him. His head hurts, and the stale taste of alcohol is rising in his mouth.
"Brucie, babe, I'm flattered, but you're not my type." Tony raises an eyebrow at Bruce's glare. "Although, you could be in a few seconds..."
Tony takes a swing from the bottle in his hand and immediately starts coughing. Bruce narrows his eyes, the world tilting under him. They should probably do something about the way the floor is moving, that can't be natural.
"Jesus, Bruce, what is this?" Tony glares at the bottle, eyes going wide. "190 proof? Shit, were you trying to kill yourself?"
"Bold words coming from the resident alcoholic." Bruce snarls.
"Brucie, I drink because I'm a stuck up asshole who deserves the hate he gets, and then some. I don't drink to feel good, I drink because the buzz kills whatever sliver of reality I can still see." Tony sets the bottle down out of his reach, and Bruce growls again, because he did that one purpose. "Don't go there, Bruce. It's not worth the pain of coming back".
"Fuck you!" Bruce yells, but it hurts his head, and then there are hands on him, and tries to pull out of their grasp, but they're too strong, and if they get him into one of those little cages, they'll take him back, take him to SHIELD, lock him in a little box and stick needles in him until he dies. They can't have him, they can't they can't they can't-
"Bruce, I'm not gonna hit you." Tony's voice filters in, but it sounds funny, and Bruce is starting to feel sick. "C'mon, come sit down and get your bearings. Jesus, you're drunk".
"M not drunk." Bruce shakes his head, but the movement throws him off, because that weight that's sloshing around in his head gets thrown about, and he can't get his bearings, he's dizzy, and the lights are too bright, like the labs at SHIELD, and oh, God, they have him, they drugged him, they're gonna kill him-
"Bruce. Breathe".
He's not sure where the order comes from, but he shakes his head again, trying to pull away from the iron grip on his wrist. He feels sick, really sick, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he's wore out his use, before they kill him.
"Bruce, you're gonna have a panic attack. Breathe".
Except the SHIELD doctors don't call him by his first name. Hardly anybody does anymore. So this has to be someone he knows. Are they helping the SHIELD doctors? Did they turn him in?
"Brucie, work with me. I know I'm not your favorite person in the world, but give me something".
Brucie? Nobody calls him 'Brucie'. Nobody except...
"Tony?" The name falls out of his mouth, and as he forces his eyes open, the billionaire smiles a kind, patient smile, like the kind you give to children after they complete a new task.
"Hey, there you are. I kinda lost you for a second." Tony says quietly, but that doesn't make sense, because Tony is never quiet. "Come on, let's go sit down on the couch".
Bruce lets himself be guided to the couch, where he stares blankly as Tony mutters to himself. His head is pounding, and the lights hurt.
"You doin' ok?" Tony says, and Bruce manages to shake his head, barely, slowly. He feels kind of nauseous, too, and the floor is bouncing under his feet. He's pretty sure it shouldn't be doing that. "How can I help?"
Bruce is barely able to croak out "lights" before his grating headache and his upset stomach join forces and make his vomit all over the floor. And a couple of research papers. And himself.
Tony is at his side instantly, rubbing his back and whispering to him. He can't hear what he's saying, but Bruce is fairly certain it's something along the lines of "you pushed too far", which, honestly, he was expecting. He hasn't been drunk in a long time, and the quiet buzz in his head has finally crossed the line from pleasant to painful, his body protesting as he feels his eyelids slipping and his stomach churn. A low groan escapes him, but even that noise is too much.
"J, midnight mode, and drop the lights to 10%" Tony says quietly, and Bruce leans heavily against Tony as the lights dim considerably and the AI hums softly in response. Tony absentmindedly runs his fingers through Bruce's hair as he moves his arm to drape over Bruce's shoulders.
"Thank you." Bruce sniffles, and even though his voice betrays him, he cannot remember when he started crying.
"You ok?" Tony sighs in relief when Bruce nods, still leaning heavily on Tony. "Good. Since we've established that... What the hell, Bruce?"
Bruce flinches at the sharp tone, which is louder and sharper than he thinks Tony meant, because Tony immediately hisses, "shit, right, drunk", and drops his voice. Bruce takes a minute or so to slow his breathing, then tries to explain.
"I just... I was having trouble with one of the UV scanners, and the dumb thing had already broke once today, so I had to fix it, but then it crapped out two seconds from scan completion, and I was just... so pissed, and then Bucky came in, and I just kinda... snapped".
"Snapped? Snapped how? At him?" Tony asks, and Bruce feels shame flooding him whole body. Oh, God, he can't believe he did that. A small whine escapes his mouth, and he buries he face in Tony's shoulder, tears blossoming in his eyes. Tony stiffens under him, then relaxes, concern filling his voice as he asks, "Bruce? Talk to me".
"I- I- I-" Bruce feels shame and guilt tear through him, and as childish as it is, he yanks Tony into a hug, wailing into his shoulder. "I CAN'T!"
Tony stiffens again, but Bruce hardly notices as he sobs wildly, clinging desperately to Tony as his body shakes with the force of shame and sorrow. He begins blabbering wildly about everything that's been bothering him, about how he hasn't been able to sleep, how he feels useless and underappreciated. Tony slowly returns the hug, pressing his hand against Bruce's back as the scientist draws him tighter.
Eventually, he starts to come back down, his words making sense again, but Tony doesn't let go. In fact, he's shaking a little, which worries Bruce.
"Tony?"
"Jesus, Bruce, you can be so stupid sometimes." Tony whispers, and he can hear that the man has been crying. "Do you seriously think I hate you? That anyone in this Tower hates you?"
Bruce hadn't realized that he'd said that. He shakes his head, shame coloring his cheeks a light red.
"Let me get this straight, actually; You had a nightmare, couldn't sleep right, haven't been able to for a few days, so your solution was to work in the lab non-stop and drink yourself stupid?" Tony knocks his forehead against Bruce's shoulder, a wry laugh escaping him. "Jesus, Bruce".
"You do that." Bruce murmurs, which has Tony pulling away with a look of sharp anger. Bruce flinches; he hadn't meant to insult.
"Bruce, don't." Tony says quietly. His voice carries no edge, which scares Bruce even more. He has to be pissed, there's no reason Tony should be this patient with him. "Don't use me as an example. Don't do that to yourself".
Bruce feels the red color his cheeks more strongly, and he nods, ashamed.
"Bruce, look at me." Bruce flinches again, but he looks up, surprised to find tears in the billionaire's eyes. "I'm serious. You are kind, and funny, and patient, and if I corrupt that with my bad habits, I will never forgive myself, do you understand?"
Bruce nods slowly, confused. Tony is a brilliant person, but Bruce had long been under the impression that Tony kept damaging himself because he either didn't notice it was damaging, or he didn't care. And what Bruce was hearing him say now meant that neither of those was true.
"You're a better person than me, Bruce. Don't go chasing relief at the bottom of a bottle. Falling in is much easier than getting out, and it's a long way to the top".
"You say that like you know".
"I say it like I've tried. I'm tired of trying to drag my worthless ass towards decency, and you better believe I know it. It's a long way up, Bruce, and I don't have the strength for the climb".
"...You never act like it bothers you".
"I can't. You should have seen me trying to explain this to Pepper, she damn near talked me deaf with all the questions and attempted motivation. She doesn't get it".
"Why would you keep doing it if you know it hurts?"
"I told you, I'm done trying to drag myself back up. There's no hope for me, I know that. I've made peace with the fact that when I go, it'll either be my liver or my heart that kills me. Too much abuse there. But it's good, you know? What I have here, it's good. I know I could stand to be better, could probably achieve it if I tried, but I have a good thing here".
"...You asked if I was trying to kill myself".
"I... Oh, that. Yeah, you were slugging back 190 proof vodka. That's virtually the strongest alcohol on Earth".
"So I had a few drinks".
"Bruce, you had four bottles of the stuff. You should be dead".
That gives Bruce pause. Four bottles of what is effectively the strongest drink on the planet? It would certainly explain why his head is fuzzy, but Tony is right. That much alcohol should have killed him long ago. Maybe he had something else, and the last bottle was vodka? He doesn't even like vodka, why did he-
"Bruce." Tony nudges him, and he looks up, his vision pulsing as he does so. "Talk to me".
"I was thinking maybe it wasn't all vodka, that maybe it was normal booze and then-"
"Nope, definitely not. All the bottles look the same".
"Huh." Bruce frowns, but his headache has been growing steadily, and he honestly just wants to go to bed.
"Listen, I'm just throwing this out there, but maybe it's your metabolism. We know the other guy exists to protect you, maybe he let you borrow his metabolism for a quick... How long have you been down here?"
"Maybe... What time is it?"
"Uh, probably early. Really early. We can turn Jarvis back on, if you want".
"No, I just want to go to bed." Bruce slumps against Tony again, moaning softly. "I'm tired".
"I'm not surprised. C'mon, let's get you showered and into bed. Can you do that on your own?"
"Probably?" Bruce sways heavily as he stands, grabbing Tony for support. "No, definitely not".
"Ok, I'll probably have to get you a pair of swim trunks, but I can help." Tony laces his arm under Bruce's armpits, guiding him towards the elevator.
"Noooo. Sleep".
"You are not gonna wanna sleep in that".
"Sleeeeeeep!" Bruce whines, throwing his head back dramatically. Which, unfortunately, has the added effect of dragging his body every which way.
"I know, I know. Jesus." Tony chuckles as he gets Bruce in the elevator.
Bruce doesn't even remember making it to his apartment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Anthony Edward Stark, you better have a hell of an explanation-" Tony holds up a hand, cutting Pepper off in the video call, but only briefly. "It is 5 in the goddamn morning! For the love of God, WHAT".
"Peps, before you freak, hear me out." Tony notices the way she stiffens as she sharply(and audibly) inhales. "Bruce had a bit of an incident in the lab, and I needed to go help him out, which resulted in us turning on midnight mode, so I didn't know you were calling me".
"Bruce. Having an incident. At 5 in the morning".
"Technically it was at a quarter to 3, but I get your point." Tony does not miss the glare Pepper give him. "Hey, I was shocked too! I had my doubts, but it's true. Ask Barnes, he's the one that called me".
"Bucky." Pepper raises her eyebrow again. "What did you bribe him with this time?"
"No, Pep, I'm serious. He woke me up and said that something was wrong with Bruce. Said that he went down there for sleeping pills and Bruce whacked him".
That, apparently, was the last straw for Pepper. She folds her arms in front of her, eyebrow raised high.
"Bruce. Our Bruce. Bruce Banner, hitting someone." Pepper smirks wryly. "How stupid do you think I am, Anthony?"
"You know what, fine, don't believe me." Tony sighs loudly, pushing hair out of his face until he remembers that's the hand he used to wipe Bruce down. "Aw, fuck, I got vodka puke on me".
"You- ARE YOU DRUNK!" Pepper shouts, and even though Tony flinches, Bruce's monitor screen doesn't change, the projection hovering next to Pepper's face as Tony throws dirty clothes in the washing machine.
"No, Pepper, I'm not, but my hearing is shot now, so thanks for that." Tony throws another one of Bruce's yellow shirts into the washer, wrinkling his nose at the smell of formaldehyde. "Must have been working with the kid for that one. Thought he didn't do dissections in that lab".
"TONY." Pepper warns, and Tony has a choice; tell the truth, and risk not being believed, or keep it to himself, and risk getting kicked out of the bedroom? Plus there was Bruce's privacy to think about...
"Fine, ok, you got me. I had a nightmare and I was working in the lab. I got oil on my pajamas, so I had to change, and then I got distracted." Tony lies quickly, waiting for Pepper to blow up and scold him and then be done with it. He's probably not going to get any lab time in the next few days, but doing all the Stark Industries work Pepper gives him will eventually be enough for her to consider accepting an apology.
Except, Pepper doesn't blow up. She squints at him, suspicion plain in her features.
"Why are you lying to me?"
"Are you serious? Why does that sound like a lie?"
"It just does. Are you lying to me?"
"Yes, because you won't believe the truth, and anyhow, it's not my place to tell it." Tony waves his hand dismissively. "Be mad all you want, but I can't tell you the truth. Not without revealing some personal details that aren't mine to give out".
For a minute, Tony thinks Pepper is going to give him the whole "Why are you being difficult?" speech, but instead her features soften, and her scowl becomes a small smile, barely visible but for the pride in her eyes.
"You've grown." She whispers softly.
"Pretty sure I peaked in high school".
"Not like that." Pepper rolls her eyes, a sarcastic huff sneaking out. "I meant that you've grown as a person. Just a few years ago, you would have told the whole story with no regard to who it hurt".
"Gee, just throw that in my face, why don't you".
"I mean it, Tony. You've matured. You're a better person now than you were when I first met you".
"I wish." Tony snorts. "Better hurts. Better is hard to get to. Whatever this is, it isn't better. I didn't have to work for it".
"Why do you believe that?" Pepper says softly, pity working into her face. "I wish you could see what I see, even if you don't believe it".
"Wow, sappy." Tony rolls his eyes good naturedly. Pepper just scoffs. "I don't deserve you".
"I love you, Tony. Be safe".
"Love you too." Tony smiles as he hangs up the call, then starts as it buzzes in his hands, Peter's contact flashing across the screen. "Sup, Underoos?"
"Hey, Mr. Stark! So, I have a question about movie night..."
"Oh, do you need to cancel or something? Cuz of, um... decathlon?" Tony frowns, then pulls up his calendar. "That's this semester, right?"
"Yeah, but, uh, I don't need to cancel. I wanted to know if my whole decathlon group could come. Our meet got canceled, and MJ and Ned were like, 'Oh, Peter's friends with a billionaire!' and Flash started calling BS and I kinda wanna see him implode".
"Flash is which one? The vlogger?" Tony smirks at Peter's panicked squawk. "Relax, I won't bug him. But if Nat shows up, no promises".
"Wait, so it's a yes?"
"Yeah, it's a yes. I'll get Bruce to come, too. He needs a break".
"Sweet! I'll see you at 7!"
"I thought it was 6:30?"
"No, it takes an hour to get from my school to Stark Tower by car, remember?"
"Kid, you gotta stop counting on me to remember this stuff. I barely remember what day it is".
"You remembered decathlon, and Flash, and when I was gonna be here if I was on my own".
"That's different".
"How?"
The fact that Tony didn't have a good answer for that bothered him, more than the fact that the kid was right. Pepper's words came back to him; 'You're a better person now than when I first met you'.
"Point taken. I'll see you at 7, kiddo".
"Got it!"
"And Peter?"
"Yeah?"
"Let me know if there's any dietary restrictions, because popcorn will be served".
"Got it, I'll text you once I know. Bye!"
Peter hung up on him just as Tony murmured "See you, kid".
Better? Please. People like him didn't get better. Better took work, work was hard, hard caused pain. Better was painful.
But did he still believe that?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce wakes up and immediately regrets being alive. His head is splitting, he's nauseous and achey, and worst of all, his mouth tastes of stale alcohol, meaning he had been drunk at some point the night before. He hasn't been drunk since his junior year of college, and it hurt.
Bruce forces himself into a sitting position, groaning as his head tries to kill him. It's a valiant effort, but he does not drop back to the bed, and after taking a few minutes to be certain he is not dead, he stands, shuffling to the bathroom to shower. The action earns him nothing but an overpowering wave of nausea and hiss head in a toilet bowl, but he somehow manages to drag himself into the shower and try to clean up.
Bruce isn't normally slow to wake, but his pounding head and his burning throat are making sleep very tempting. No one would think any lesser of him for calling in sick and just sleeping the hangover off.
Except he wanted to know why he got drunk. He hasn't been drunk in so long, hasn't had any alcohol in so long, and he's curious as to what could cause him to break that personal pact. And why his mouth tastes like vodka. He hates vodka.
When he finally gets out of the shower, he feels a little better, but not by much. He resigns to ordering something online; he remembers a roommate telling him that chicken noodle soup helps. He stumbles out into his living room, intent on asking Jarvis to bring up a menu.
He does not expect Tony to be sitting on his couch, folding laundry and laughing at someone he's in a phone call with. Bruce takes a minute to decide what surprises him most, finds it to be a pretty even mix, then wobbles towards the fridge to get water.
"Yeah, no, I get that." Tony says, tucking back the arms of one of the shirts. Bruce does a double take, because that's his shirt, that's definitely his shirt, then watches in awe as Tony folds the arms behind the shirt, bringing the hem up to meet the collar. Which is exactly how he likes his shirts folded.
The person on the other end says something Bruce can't hear, which gets a snort out of Tony.
"No, ok, But if you were to hypothetically catch him before he hit the bottom-" The other person cuts him off again, and Tony frowns. "Well, shit, I guess we gotta get Nat involved".
Bruce can hear the yelp from the other side of the room, along with Tony's cackle.
"I'm teasing, Underoos. Nat scares me, and even if I were to ask, I'm not gonna do that to your street cred." Tony smiles, and Bruce is struck by how soft it looks. He can't remember ever seeing Tony in a domestic setting like this. The way he acts when he thinks no one's watching... it's very different from what he's used to.
"What is that, Spanish?" Tony smiles again, and again, its soft and warm. "I speak a little. Howard wouldn't let me grow up uncultured, so I knew Italian and French. Figured out Spanish from there".
The voice switches languages, which Bruce figures out by Tony's initially confused look.
"¿Qué, crees que no puedo mantener el ritmo? Niño, soy viejo, no es tonta[What, you think I can't keep up? Kid, I'm old, not stupid]." Tony laughs again at the confused squawk on the other end. "Te digo algo, este idioma es uno de los únicos que dominé. Di lo que quieras sobre mi papá, él tenía un punto sobre aprender otros idiomas además del mío[I tell you something, this language is one of the only ones I mastered. Say what you will about my dad, he had a point about learning languages other than my own]".
Underoos... Bruce reflects on the nickname. Isn't that what Tony calls Peter? He's swiping at his phone looking for a half decent soup place that delivers when Tony makes a choking noise. He looks up and makes eye contact with the man.
"Oh, shit, Bruce is up!" Tony coughs, starts to explain, then returns his attention to Peter. "No, he... There was an incident yesterday. It's not my place to tell, but he was out of it and I wanted to make sure he'd be ok".
Bruce nearly drops his glass. Tony had been there, but Tony definitely didn't look hungover, so he was either faking really well or he had been the one to help Bruce back. And as much as he couldn't make himself believe it, the second one was probably what happened.
"Yeah, he's fine now, but like I said, it's not my place to tell. You can ask him if he joins us for movie night." Tony laughs at what sounds like the kid freaking out, until Bruce realizes that its not Peter. "Is that your friend? Um, Ned? Hi Ned!"
Bruce smiles, poking his phone until Jarvis announces a delivery for him, which has him wandering over to the elevator, which is open and smells vaguely of pizza. Tony yelps, then does what sounds like tripping over the couch in an effort to get there.
"J! Is the guy still here?"
"I'm afraid he's left, Sir." The soft voice drifted from the ceiling.
"Damn, I was gonna tip him extra from coming out twice. And putting up with my idiocy".
"You're not an idiot." Bruce starts to launch into a lecture, but Tony's smile is self-depreciating, which confuses him.
"Well, I know that. You hungry?"
Bruce stares at the pizza, then nods. He's never seen Tony like this, and it's strange, but very interesting.
"What?" Tony gives a nervous giggle, and Bruce gives him a quizzical look. "You're staring at me".
"Oh. It's just, you never struck me as particularly domestic. I guess I'm surprised".
"Is it because I'm a rich kid?" Tony laughs at Bruce's expression. "I'm teasing, I don't expect you to know. Remember, my butler was the person who practically raised me".
"I... hadn't thought about that".
"Right. So do you wanna start with food or should we just straight into why the hell you drunk four bottles of vodka last night?"
For some reason, Bruce wasn't expecting that. He knew Tony could be blunt as hell, but hearing it said so causally felt like a slap in the face.
"Uh, food." Bruce feels his face go red with shame.
"Ok, but we are discussing it, because you should definitely be dead, and I want to know why you're not".
Bruce is grateful for the pizza, but he eats in silence, avoiding Tony's line of sight. He still can't believe he did this. There's a reason he stopped drinking in college.
As soon as Bruce finishes eating, Tony turns towards him, something unrecognizable flashing in his eyes. Bruce looks away, shame coloring his face.
"So, four bottles of vodka. 190 proof vodka. What were you thinking and why?"
"I... don't know. I can't remember." Bruce feels his face flush even more.
"I thought so. Damn." Tony sits back, clearly pissed. "Well, we'll go with that theory about your metabolism, which is what I was most interested in, but I guess since you blacked out, we gotta talk again".
"I-"
"You hit Bucky. Do you remember that?"
Bruce goes very pale. The last time he heard something like that was the last time he got black out drunk, in his junior year of college. He remembers how people stopped talking to him, how he couldn't remember anything and made a promise to himself never to drink again, because he couldn't trust himself. And years later, when he broke that promise, he ended up right back where he started.
"I... What?"
"Ok, that's actually a little out of context. You backhanded him cuz he was in your lab and you were... I don't know, tired, I guess, and then you drank yourself stupid. Follow me so far?"
The fact that he wasn't drunk when he hit Bucky is small relief, but also far more guilt inducing. Tears start to slip out of his eyes, and he can't look up, so he nods.
"Right, so Bucky calls me like an hour later and says something's up with you, so I got to check it out and not only are you stupid drunk, but you kept freaking out every time I tried to get you over to the couch. You almost had a panic attack, and you kept muttering something. It sounded like "I wanna go home", but I couldn't really tell. You follow me?"
Bruce manages a weak nod, tears watering the backs of his hands.
"Right, so I try to ask what the fuck happened, and you just... broke down? And apparently, you haven't been sleeping? Cuz of a nightmare? Which is stupid as fuck, by the way, but we'll unpack that later. Then I got you upstairs and into bed. Oh, also, you puked everywhere, and you kind of trashed your lab, but again, not really important".
Bruce gives out a weak sob at that. Physically destructive, physically violent, all the qualities that were the reason for his quitting, he slipped right back into those habits.
"Bruce? What are you not telling me?" Tony ducks into his field of vision, but Bruce looks away. He worked so hard to break these habits the first time around, he doesn't know if he can do it again. "Brucie? You gotta talk to me, I don't know how to help if you don't tell me what's wrong".
Tony taps him lightly on the shoulder, then draws him into a tentative hug. Bruce can't do anything for a few minutes, then returns the hug, relaxing as Tony hums a positive response. Bruce tries to stifle his sobs, but the shame and guilt is building into something he can't fight, and he's still so tired.
"You know that no one hates you, right?" Tony asks after a minute.
That sends Bruce over the edge; his burning eyes release the tears he's been holding back, and the sobs he's been strangling push themselves out of his throat. He grabs Tony tighter as his body starts to shake from the sobs, pitiful whimpers escaping him. Tony doesn't say anything except for "ah" before pressing the whole of his open hand against Bruce's back. Bruce sobs violently, the twitches and jerks that accompany them shaking him to his core. Tony eventually starts muttering something, but Bruce has trouble making it out.
"Cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf...[five, six, seven, eight, nine...]" Bruce finally catches the words, and he starts to calm down, recognizing a few numbers. He counts along in his head, having recognized a few numbers, tracking where they are. By 50, or "Cinquante", his breathing has started to calm. By 78, "Soixante dix huit", his eyes have stopped generating tears. By the time they reach 100, he's counting along in English, and he's completely calmed down. Mostly.
"Um, what was that?" Bruce asks as Tony pulls away, releasing a deep breath.
"It's something that Jarvis, um, Human Jarvis, taught me. Whenever I started to break down irrationally, he would have me count to 100 in French, because as the numbers got bigger, they got harder to say, and it's really hard to cry and say 'quatre-vingt neuf' at the same time." Tony blushes as he smiles shyly. "I, uh, don't do well with crying, so I thought maybe I could calm you down".
"Well, it worked." Bruce smiles wryly, and Tony grins back. "I just... I haven't been drunk since my junior year of college. There's a reason I quit".
"Is it a thing?" Tony asks, catching Bruce's flinch before he can stop himself. "Oh, shit, it is a thing. You probably hate yourself right now".
"Yeah, that's a fair assessment".
"Jesus, Bruce, next time you feel that shitty, call me and I'll talk you out of it".
"I..."
"Bruce. Please, call me. I have a fair amount of experience with wanting to destroy myself from the inside out, I'd rather you call me so I can talk you through it".
"I- I don't-" Bruce drops his head into his hands, his eyes burning with the threat of returning tears. "I'm just so... disappointed in myself. I thought I was better than this".
"So you slipped up. It happens. You're allowed to be disappointed, but don't beat yourself up. You made it this far, and you were under extreme stress and probably in pain, too." Tony gives Bruce a quizzical look. "When was your last slip, anyway?"
"I, uh, haven't had any alcohol since junior year, if that answers your question".
"No shit." Tony smiles, then drops it when he sees Bruce is being serious. "No shit? You quit cold turkey?"
"Yes. That surprises you?"
"I'm not surprised, I'm impressed. Do you know how hard that is? It's nearly impossible, especially if you just started getting hooked".
"Really?" Bruce is suspicious of that.
"Yes, really. I am shocked you managed that. You- Damn. My respect for you just went way up".
"I thought it was at it's max?" Bruce jokes.
"You have officially surpassed Pepper, the only person to do so ever." Tony says, and Bruce can see he's serious. "Like, that is so fucking hard to do".
"Thanks, I guess?" Bruce rubs the back of his neck. "I just feel really disappointed. I set rules for myself, and I broke them".
"Bruce. You quit cold turkey and slipped for the first time yesterday. That is ridiculously hard, and you should be proud of yourself for making it out. It's one slip that's probably not going to happen again, and you need to make your peace with it. It happened, let it go".
Bruce tries, but after Tony mutters "and actually try, you doofus", he really reflects on what happened. He made a bad decision, but it was strongly influenced by the fact that he was tired, irritated, and already not thinking straight. Could he live with that? Could he really live with that?
He's surprised to find the answer is yes, he can. He looks up at Tony, nodding once with a rueful smile. He knows eventually he'll let it go, but for now, he'll have to live with a mild guilt.
"Thank you. I needed that".
"Yeah, no problem. I mean, you're welcome. Shit, I'm bad at this." Tony smiles shyly, and Bruce cocks his head quizzically. "Um, Pepper said I need to work on 'not sounding like an ass' when I talk".
That gets a laugh out of Bruce, who breaks down into giggles when he sees the genuinely distressed look on Tony's face. Tony ends up pouting at him, but it's fake and Bruce can tell he's glad that he's laughing again. Tony eventually starts going into more detail about what happened when Bruce was drunk, retelling what was said to him during the breakdown. Bruce listens, thinking about Bucky.
"I should call him." Bruce catches Tony's look of confusion. "Bucky. I owe him an apology".
"Oh, yeah, you should probably do that. Call his cell, if Steve knows you hit him, he's gonna flip his shit before you have a chance to explain, and you're not ready for that".
Bruce gets up and gets his phone from his room, closing the door and calling Bucky's number. The ex-assassin picks up mid-laugh, yelling at someone that Bruce can't hear. It's probably Steve.
"Hello?" Bucky says, sounding pleased with himself.
"I wanted to apologize for what happened last night." Bruce says, deciding that the best way to handle this would be to get straight to the point.
Bucky is silent for what feels like a long time, and Bruce gets really nervous.
"You don't remember what happened." It's a statement, not a question.
"Yes, but I was told, and I want to apologize. My behavior was inexcusable, and I'm very sorry for my actions".
Bucky is silent again, and Just as Bruce starts to get nervous, Bucky speaks again, very quietly, before repeating himself louder.
"I forgive you. I know you wouldn't normally ever do this, according to literally everyone else in this tower, and I shouldn't have touched your shoulder. If I was less freaked out, I would have recognized your panic for what it was." Bucky says, a rueful smile lingering in his voice. "You were spiraling, and I don't blame you for reacting to that physically".
"I should have been more in control".
"Yeah, you probably should have, but that's not going to change what happened. Can we both let it go?"
"I- I think so".
"Ok. Then I forgive you".
"Ok. Thank you."
"Hm?" Bucky says, and Bruce is about to repeat what he said when Bucky gives a short laugh. "Yes, and we're running away together, never to be seen again. Why, you jealous?"
"What?"
"Oh, not you. Somebody-" Bucky breaks off in a laugh, the kind of laugh that only Steve can get out of him, and Bruce suddenly understands. "-Is being distracting. Stevie, I'm on the phone!"
Bruce can hear Steve's laugh, and then Bucky says something that gives him pause; "No, it's just Bruce".
Bruce can hear how the other end gets very quiet. Bucky's steady breathing gets picked up by the mic, and Bruce waits for the other shoe to drop.
"No, he wanted to apologize. I think you were right about him." Bucky says, and Bruce lets go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Yeah, we're good".
"I'm gonna hang up." Bucky says to Bruce, and before Bruce can agree, the call ends. Bruce shrugs, then puts his phone back and goes back out the common room, where Tony has finished his shirts and is texting someone, probably Pepper based on how miserable he looks.
"You good?"
"I have to do a public appearance tomorrow, and I hate those. It's literally just so the media doesn't think I'm dead or fucked in the head. Which I am, and I don't really have a problem with that, but come on!"
"Ah." Bruce smiles, then looks at the digital clock on his counter, an addition that he bought. "Didn't you say Peter was coming over for movie night?"
"Yeah, why?" Tony suddenly goes very pale. "J, what time is it?"
"The current time is 6:46 PM, Sir".
"Shit, I don't even have popcorn ready. J, set up the cinema, and let me know if Peter's list had any dietary restrictions listed. Who wanted what?"
Jarvis begins listing Peter's friends as well as what they want, and Bruce smiles as he joins Tony in the elevator. Tony gives him a quick look of "wait, you're coming?" before turning back to what he was doing.
"Wait, give me the last two again, J?"
"I believe Miss Elizabeth requested dairy free, and Mister Flash requested a cherry coke, Sir".
"ok, dairy free. Um, there's gotta be something- Oil! We can do stove popped in olive oil! Wait, crap, do I even have popcorn?"
"I believe Captain Rogers may have a supply he'd be willing to share if you asked nicely".
"Gee, thanks Jarvis. Patch me through?"
Bruce watches that whole interaction, waiting until Tony stops to catch his breath to mention "I didn't know we had a cinema".
"Really? I built it for SI employees, but they never use it, so I was thinking of gutting it and putting something else there, like a lab for Peter".
"I think he'd like that, but if you do a small viewing room, I think we could make movie night a regular thing." Bruce says with a smile.
"Is this one of those whole 'you're a rich person and it's just money to you' thing?" Tony asks bluntly, which has Bruce laughing. "Cuz this thing actually is small. It can fit maybe thirty people max?"
"That... actually is small for you. I guess I'll have to see it".
They have all the popcorn ready and are starting on Ned's nachos when the kids show up.