Work Text:
Bruce stopped short of his favorite park bench and mentally cursed.
A dark haired guy in an expensive suit and sunglasses sat on his bench with a bowl of spilled noodles in his lap and tears streaming down his eyes.
Bruce looked down at his Styrofoam cup of tea and then back at the distraught young man.
He’d come to his bench to unwind after a long day at the lab, and this…this was not good for him. He really should go, but he’d feel like an asshole if he didn’t at least ask the guy if he was okay, even if aforementioned guy obviously wasn’t.
Agitatedly tapping his fingers against his cup, Bruce took a deep breath and braced himself for the crazy that he was inevitably bringing upon himself. “Are you okay?”
The guy looked up from his spilled noodles. Red colored the whites of eyes, which were still wet with the remains of tears. His cheeks were equally red, and snot had gathered in his nose. A quick glance at the wrist of the guy’s suit jacket revealed a snot stain from rubbing his nose. “Aw, crap.” The guy scrubbed his fist along his eyes, trying to rid himself of his tears. “I’m fine. Allergies are acting up.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow at the excuse. “It’s not allergy season.”
The guy sneered. “You don’t know what allergies I have.”
Bruce held up a hand to show he meant no harm. “Personally, I would have gone with the onion excuse.” Bruce pointed at the noodles and broth at the guy’s feet. Bits of onion floated in the broth.
The guy wrinkled his nose. “I have an allergy to onions.”
“Hmm. You don’t look like you’re breaking out into hives. Nor is your face swollen. Your breathing is fine too.”
The guy scowled. “What are you? A doctor?”
“I am actually.”
The guy scoffed. “Doctor’s of poetry don’t count.”
“Personally, I don’t think you get to decide what qualifies someone as a doctor; however, my doctorate is in Nuclear Physics, not poetry.”
The guy scoffed again and rolled his wrist in gesture for Bruce to continue. “Well, then show me proof.”
Bruce took a sip of his tea, contemplating if he really wanted to continue this conversation. So far the young man had been rude, but not to the point of irritation. In fact, it was somewhat amusing to watch how defensive the young man acted, how he deflected the attention from his tears by calling out Bruce’s credentials.
Bruce fished out his work badge and flashed it at the guy. “I don’t usually carry around my degrees, so hopefully this is good enough for you.”
The guy side-eyed the badge, frowning at it. A second later whirled in his seat and snatched the badge out of Bruce’s hands. “No way! You are not the Bruce Banner!”
Bruce snatched his badge back and retreated two steps.
The young man stared at him wide-eyed then cursed. “Holy shit! You are!”
Bruce fidgeted. His muscles bunched together as a voice in his head told him to run. He never thought he’d have a stalker—the field of science, while respected and awed, did not draw the same impassioned audience as musicians and movie stars.
Suddenly the young man was off the bench and thrusting out his hand at Bruce. “I’m Tony Stark. Big fan of your work.”
“Uh… thanks, I think.” Bruce eyed the hand warily, as his brain connected the dots as to where he’d heard Tony’s name before. Then it clicked.
Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark, and now official CEO of Stark Industries after his parents passing one week ago.
Bruce internally cringed as he connected the reason for why Tony had been crying earlier.
He accepted Tony’s hand and shook it.
“You’re one of the greatest minds of our generation. Hell, you might even be as smart as me.” Tony grinned.
“Again, thanks, I think.”
Tony beamed. “You have to let me take you out somewhere.”
Bruce faltered. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“It’s the perfect idea!” Tony was all but bouncing where he stood. He grabbed Bruce by the arm and started hauling him away. “We’ll have dinner at this Italian place I know. We can go over ideas for projects—I’ll pay you, don’t worry—and then we can head down to one the Stark Labs and work on some of those projects.”
“Umm, that’s great, but I should probably head back to my apartment at some point tonight.”
“Why?” Tony stopped and whirled around. “Got a girlfriend?”
“No—“ Bruce tried to continue, but Tony cut him off.
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Any significant other at all?”
“No.”
“Family?”
“No.”
“Pets?”
“No, but—”
“Then there is no problem at all. I’ll put you up in one of the rooms at the lab, or I‘ll get you a hotel room.”
“I really don’t think—”
Tony clamped his hand on Bruce’s shoulders and squeezed. He stared Bruce right the eye. “I swear, it will be awesome, and anything you want is yours. You name it; I’ll get it. Even if it is a mariachi band that plays opera.”
Bruce really wanted to say no; it just wasn’t safe to go home with someone he barely knew. Even so, the logical part of his brain was shushed by Tony’s puppy-dog eyes. Even behind the sunglasses, Bruce could see they were wide with hope, and they were pleading for him to agree.
Bruce sighed. “Only for a few hours; I’m not staying the night.”
Tony punched the air in victory. “Awesome!” He threw his arm around Bruce. “You’ll see, Brucie! We’re going to have so much fun building things and blowing up shit.”
The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Maybe save the explosions for later?”