Work Text:
They come with deft tugs along the emotional receptors in their hyper aware brains, twisting and curving instinct to allow them easy access to the mansion. They obviously haven't planned for Bruce, who lets himself flush green and suddenly towers above them and even those on his side cringe because how much bigger will he get? How much easier will it be for him to destroy and harder for him to control? (And Tony will just coil close and nuzzle pink and green alike and Bruce and Hulk will fall ever more in love with their metal man.)
Mask and eyepatch are peeled away and Charles wonders how many more brain-related mutations will surface.
Phil Coulson, twenty two with a perpetual blankness to his face that lends itself from the excruciating control of emotion, of all things bad and good seeped and melted into one until it burned away at everything and the chasm within yawned open like the gaping maw of a dying beast. Hulk swivels back around and lets Bruce breathe through breaking and shifting so they can observe him more calmly. Natasha is priority but Coulson is necessity. Priority will win this time this time -next time?- now.
The only sign of his acknowledgment is a drag of void eyes over the assembled mutants and Clint notices deep fissures where emotion should be and Charles' mind is cold and Bruce tries not to howl until they scare the emotion back into the man.
And then Nick Fury, twenty eight with mottled bruises covering fresh scar tissue around and over and into his left eye. He doesn't speak to them but Charles fishes into his thoughts easily and with barely a moment's consideration turns with a beckoning flick of his wrist. The men follow and Hulk heaves a groan that rolls through Bruce's entire body, twitching their mint tinted hand out to grasp Tony's tentatively seeking fingers.
And back in their room Clint and Natasha sit with their foreheads pressed together, fingers tucked into sleeves and curled beneath bands and they breathe slow and deep and she picks up the lilting hum as he drops it and there's a faint burst of static spider-webbing across receptors and Phil's big toe spasms.