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I knew I loved him from the first day I met him.
What I didn’t know was how much work loving him would be.
I watch Bruce Banner sashaying across the room, all swagger and easy confidence, and I realize it’s not really Bruce Banner at all. Joe Fixit. When I agreed to be in a relationship with Bruce, before the gamma accident, I only had one man to worry about. Just my smart, adorable Bruce. But ever since the gamma intensified Bruce’s split mind, I’ve been having to deal with several men.
There’s Bruce— the original. He’s the scientist who stole my heart when we studied together in college. We got assigned as lab partners in a class, and he was so… dorky. He was a genius, clearly, especially when it came to physics— he saved my ass a few times by helping me study before many a midterm— but he was also a bit awkward. He’d make some exhausted, sarcastic remark about the lab work or the upcoming exam or the weather that would come out sounding wittier than he’d intended, and he’d look at me confused when I’d burst out laughing. Funny in an unintentional way. But even back then, he’d get angry. Not at me, usually, but he’d get into heated arguments and his eyes would flash with hatred. I’d often have to pull him away seconds before punches flew. But I adapted, learning just the right ways to calm him down. As we got closer, he started getting even more awkward around me, and it wasn’t until he clumsily confessed his attraction to me that I finally understood why.
When the gamma bomb happened, I stayed by his side, even when the Hulk started to show up. It didn’t matter. He was still my funny scientist, the short-tempered man who looked at me with big brown eyes and who needed me more than ever to help him through the terrifying transformations. I learned how to calm the Hulk down, too.
The Hulk. He was the second. I didn’t know it was Bruce underneath that muscled green exterior, not at first. All I saw was some horrifying monster, large and looming over me. He’d taken me, picked me right up and leapt over houses and streets and hills until he’d found a secluded area and put me down. Oh, how I screamed. I screamed for Bruce, I think. At the time, Hulk kept saying, “Hulk not hurt you! Hulk not hurt you!” It was only when Hulk screamed, “Hulk love Y/N!” that I took a breath from my terrified screaming and looked at him. Really looked at him. That heavy brow and small nose and dark emerald mop of hair over similarly green skin. He’d looked like a mountain sitting in front of me. But that face— I knew that face. Kind of. It still bore some faint resemblance to Bruce Banner, underneath the muscles and green skin.
What really struck me were his eyes. Hulk’s eyes were so… intelligent. And over time, I’ve gotten used to reading those eyes. Yes, he’s a big dumb brute who leads with his rage, but he’s still smart in his own way… and sweet and loving and protective. He’s just so dear to me.
Then came Joe Fixit. I didn’t know what to make of him when he first popped up as a gray Hulk in Vegas, and I still don’t know what to make of him now that he’s taken the form of Bruce’s body. Somewhere between a Hulk and a man, Joe’s taken me for a loop. And, in addition to his very existence, he’s confused me about his feelings for me.
With Bruce and the Hulk, I know where I stand. They both have shown their affection for me, and never strayed from our love. But Joe… he’s affectionate, alright, but that affection is given to basically every woman in the country, and then some. He’s a womanizer. A flirt with anybody who looks his way. And I don’t know what to do.
Especially now that Joe has taken Bruce’s face, it’s a painful reminder that my boyfriend may not be completely mine. That some part of him wants someone else. I don’t even know what to think.
So I watch him now, that Joe Fixit, walking across the room and chatting up the scientist working on cleaning some of the equipment. My heart speeds up, my fists tightening on my pants, and I glare at the two of them. He looks so relaxed, leaning against the wall and smiling with her. He’s flirting, I don’t have to hear what he’s saying to know that. And I hate it.
When Joe’s head turns just enough to glance at me, I look down, hiding my glower from him, hopefully before he notices.
Too late. I can hear his feet on the floor as he walks towards me.
“Hey, mama,” he calls, using that pet name he chose for me during one of those times he was fronting. It’s strange coming from Bruce’s voice, as is the metropolitan accent that Joe’s picked up. “Why the long face?”
So he saw it. “No reason. Just working.”
“Uh-huh.” He leans his elbows on the table between us, forcing me to look into his face. Bruce’s face… flirting with other women. I grit my teeth hard. Those pretty brown eyes I fell in love with glance down at my clenched hands. “Working on what?”
“Where’s Bruce?” I ask, hoping to evade the question.
Maybe a harsh answer, but I don’t care. Joe’s smug smile disappears, and he actually looks hurt for just a second before the suave confidence returns. “Why do you ask?”
“Because,” I snap, “he wouldn’t waste his time flirting with women around the lab. He’d be productive.” I pick up my laptop bag, turning on my heel. “Talk to you later, Joe.”
“What is it?” he asks, trying to reach for my wrist to stop my escape. I pull it away just in time.
“I’m busy.”
“Baby,” he calls after me.
My heart skips a beat, so I have to remind myself that he probably calls other women baby when he’s telling them how good they look today or how pretty their smile is or whatever other shit he says. I let out a heavy breath as I walk away, my thoughts swirling with anger. How much longer can I stay in a relationship with Bruce?
What happens if and when Joe starts sleeping with these women? I couldn’t stay, not like that. My boyfriend’s body being shared.
My eyes water as my chest feels like it’s being squeezed painfully. Could I bear to lose him?
“Hey— Y/n.”
I pause in the hallway, clutching the strap of my bag tighter. That was Bruce. The way he said my name, the accent. Gentle.
“Bruce,” I reply, turning to face him. I know Bruce and the alters see some of what goes on to whoever is fronting, so I wonder how much he was conscious for. Does he remember the interaction just now?
“Joe thought you might want me,” he says quietly, hesitating before adding, “instead.”
I shrug. “I don’t want anything.”
Bruce studies me. Picking me apart and analyzing me like he analyzes data, reading me like waves of radiation. After a moment, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Do you love me?”
He blinks in surprise, the same surprise I’m feeling myself. I didn’t even mean to blurt that out, it just happened.
“What kind of question is that?” Bruce answers, taking a few steps forward to close the distance between us.
“I need to hear you say it. Please.”
His confused expression softens. “I love you, Y/n. You know that.”
It’s not enough. If Bruce loves me, why does Joe— who’s a part of him— treat me like this? Why does he treat me like any other girl? Something in my face must scream doubt, because Bruce leans down and kisses my forehead.
“I love you,” he repeats. His lips fall to my cheek. Surprisingly affectionate in public, in the middle of a hallway. He’s usually a bit more reserved and shy. “I love you. I’ll say it until you believe it.”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” I purse my lips. “If you love me, why is Joe indifferent to me? Isn’t he a part of you? If he doesn’t love me, doesn’t that mean some part of you doesn’t want to love me?”
Bruce looks strangely hurt for a second. His eyebrows draw together and he rears his head back to examine me, confused eyes searching my face. “Why do you think that?”
“It’s obvious, Brucie,” I mumble. “He flirts with every woman who looks his way, and probably some men too, and I’m just… I don’t know. I’m invisible to him. I thought you and I were… but if he’s like that, I don’t know.”
“Brucie,” he repeats softly. A part of his confusion fades away. His thumb rises to my bottom lip. “Where’d you get that from?”
“What do you mean?” He traces the line of my lip with his thumb. “Stop that. Are you even listening to me?”
“Oh, I’m listening. Let me ask again.” I frown. Something in the way he said that… sounded off. “Where’d you get Brucie from?”
“I don’t know, Bruce. What is that even supposed to mean? It’s just a nickname.” I pull away from his touch. “If you’re just going to ask stupid questions like that, I’m—”
“I ain’t asking stupid questions.”
I freeze. “…Joe?”
The man in front of me smiles, letting a corner of his lip rise up casually. “Caught me red-handed, mama.”
“Why would you— how long have you been— what—?”
“I assumed you’d tell Bruce what’s up,” he explains with a shrug, “so I copied his accent. Easy to do, Banner’s got a stupid—”
“Stop,” I interrupt. “How could you do this? You asshole! I told Bruce that in confidence.”
“Mama, what you tell Bruce ain’t exactly hidden from me. Same head, remember?” He taps his temple twice. That’s true, but still… pretending to be Bruce just so I’d open up to him? When he barely looks at me twice?
“Then… then I’ll break up with both of you. All three of you.” I toss my hands up in a symbol of surrender. “I can’t.”
“What, after I just told you I loved you?” he snorts. He’s too casual, too confident in what he’s saying. It’s infuriating.
“That was Bruce,” I snap.
“That was me.”
I hesitate. If he was pretending to be Bruce… “You just wanted me to believe it was Bruce. You would’ve said anything.”
Joe rolls his eyes right up to the ceiling. “Nah, I was telling the truth.”
“Stop it. You don’t love me.”
He sneers. “I love you.”
“Joe—”
“I love you, sweet thing,” he repeats, grabbing my wrists.
When did he get so close? He’s practically breathing into my face, holding onto my wrists with a gentle touch. He’s smirking too, ever the confident bastard, sharp eyes studying mine.
“You don’t love me,” I insist, voice shaking. “Maybe you think I’m pretty or something but you don’t really love me.”
“Why?”
“Because you flirt.” My voice sounds so pathetic.
“So what?”
“So I hate it.” I take a shaky breath, tears welling in my eyes. The stress of watching him with other people is finally too much to bear, and everything spills out all at once. “I hate it, Joe. I hate when you look at other women and tell them nice things like that. I hate that you have such easy charm. I hate— mmph!”
He closes off my complaint with a kiss, shoving his lips hard against mine. It’s short, but intense, and nothing like when Bruce kisses me. When Joe pulls back, he’s grinning. “You’re funny. You think I care about the others?” He shrugs. “It’s fun, but I ain’t their man.”
I pout. All my strength and energy was drained with that kiss, leaving me tired and feeling very, very pathetic. The pain of the past few months is rushing out all at once, and I don’t know what to believe anymore. “You’re supposed to be mine.”
He chuckles, tucking a piece of my hair back behind my ear. “I am, mama. All yours.”
“All mine?” I repeat. It sounds weird coming from Joe.
He laughs, long and hard. “You like that, huh? I’ll stop flirting if it bothers you that much, silly girl.”
“Yes, please.”
He scrunches his nose and tilts his head. “Hmm. Can your Joe show you how much he loves you?”
The emphasis in his voice tells me exactly what he means by that. I guess he’s not so hard to read after all, because it’s the same tone Bruce uses when he wants to have sex.
“Joe,” I mutter. “Are you sure?”
“Certain.” He grins.
“But the flirting… you look at other women more than me,” I point out.
He laughs, which irks me the wrong way when I’m here doubting myself. The irritation is brief, however, when he answers, “Only ‘cause you drive me wild, baby.”
“I do?”
“Oh yeah.” He lifts my hand to his lips. “It takes all my willpower not to be kissin’ you all the damn time. You look so damn good all the frickin time, but I wanted to be, uh… respectful, or whatever. I thought that by avoiding you you’d feel more comfortable. And, to be honest, I thought you just liked Bruce.”
“Respectful?” I snort, trying very hard not to melt right there into his arms. “You’re anything but.”
He shrugs. “If you say so.”
An awkward but intense silence falls between us. Our eyes are glued together, his face pulled into a cocky smile.
Eventually, I return the smile. “I like you. Just as much as Bruce. When you’re not flirting with other people.”
“I’ll stop.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.” I blank at his sudden seriousness. Even more so when he adds, “Anything for you, mama.”
“Hmm. I like when you call me mama.”
“Come on, then, mama, and let me show you who I belong to.”
“And who would that be?” I tease.
He kisses my cheek. “You.”