Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The super soldier program was an absolute disaster in the kindest terms.

Not only was Bruce now stuck in a body owned by what was supposed to be something his fractured mind has made up, he also had destroyed everything.

Okay, maybe not everything but still a lot of stuff. (He couldn't help but try to calculate how much it cost to replace all the military gadgets he broke. He hoped it bit Ross on the ass too.)

Things were blurry and the only thing Bruce could remember was just how scared his Betty seemed of him– the other guy.

But before that, he was screaming. He was screaming in agony that was nothing like the ones he was familiar with. The voice he had shut down so many times was now forcing its way out of his throat like it hated Bruce for everything he had buried inside until there was no space left. Now, they were all crawling out, painted with green and there was nothing he could do about it.

His voice died with his will to hold on. That was when the reality sank down: He was going to die.

Funny how things turned out. He was still no different than a dead man and neither was his dear companion, who stood beside him during the test, Igor. 

He wasn't completely alone in his headspace so he supposed things weren't as miserable as he was making it to be. He whispered to Hulk sometimes and it took awhile for Bruce to be finally heard– he couldn't thank Spider Man (was his name Peter?) and surprisingly, to S.H.I.E.L.D for letting that maniac invade his mind. It built a proper bridge between Bruce and Hulk, and was probably the time when Bruce was finally convinced that he was alive. He still was unable to stand on the land of the living though. 

A man who called himself Joe was with him too. Grey eyes, clothing Bruce would've called so grown up and cool if he were still a kid, someone who had Bruce's face projected with a mustache. An interesting fella to say the least. He wasn't around much but he was there. 

Sometimes he found himself floating through the real world like a ghost, away from whatever part he was stuck in his broken ass brain. Bruce would wonder if he was finally dead during times like this. Maybe his body, if it was still somewhere in there, had finally given up. 

Then he would remember: if he was there, then it probably meant Hulk was so out of it that Bruce got kicked out. And he'd realize, this is not even out. Just somewhere else in his mind designed to distract him away from the other guy. He'd curse under his breath and do whatever came from his hands, which was usually nothing until the bridge between them was formed properly. 

But still, he was getting used to this. Maybe he would even be happy if the other guy was not the way he was because let's be real, it felt nice to not worry about what the hell was he was doing with his life. 

Therefore, he didn't know what to do when Hulk finally decided it was time for Bruce to rise again. Called him an old friend like he wasn't Bruce's prison for years.

Bruce wasn’t even sure about what to say when he was turned into something physical again thanks to the formula Hulk helped to form. 

His brown eyes opened slowly in the small crack he was in, wearing nothing but a pair of pants that was too big for him. He took a deep breath, letting the wind caress his skin. 

When he first opened his mouth to say something, the only thing that came out was a gagging sound and a sense of something sharp. Pain. He thought it would go away, that it was some side affect of not being around for years. 

Nothing changed. He'd try to talk, say something, and he'd feel like swallowing a chunk of glass. Betty, oh, his sweet Betty, was there, holding him as he coughed and tried not to beat himself up over it. He was not a machine after all, he couldn't just hurt himself and expect everything to be magically fixed. Betty told him it was fine. She was happy he's back either way. 

His eyes widened in disbelief after a medical scan and some time to connect the dots. Of course. His voice cords were probably Swiss cheese after all that screaming. And of course Hulk's oh-so-incredible-healing-or-whatever-it's-called did jack shit for some reason.

Hulk fought for him. Hulk 'felt' for him. Hulk got people by his (hopefully their) side for him and apparently, he talked for him too.

Honestly, fuck his life. Bruce was going to curl up in a ball at a cave and hibernate with a bunch of bears for the rest of his remaining years. 

After he gets rid of the beast, of course.

Chapter Text

So, Hulk became an Avenger. Somehow. And Bruce still doesn't come around often. He was mostly lingering around in his head. Honestly, it was better than the heavy awkwardness pressing down on the entire tower every time he gets out. 

The second time he had shrunk down was in the middle of a battle with Thor next to him. It lasted a minute at most. 

Third time was the longest so far. He was on his feet for a few days. Had to constantly remind himself that no, he can not float around in here and no, he still can not talk. 

Bruce was sure Clint has at least one clip of him falling in the most ridiculous times by now because Bruce keeps forgetting gravity exists in the real world. 

He barely walks out of his room. As much as he despises the other guy, Bruce has to admit, the room was beautiful in many ways. His presence kept messing with the image but he could manage. 

A mountain of sheets were folded aside- the other guy kept tearing his sheets. 

Bruce mentally groaned:

“Can't you just use something else? You're wasting a lot of those. Maybe titanium? Titanium sheets?” 

He paused for a moment, “That… actually doesn't sound so bad. What do you think?” 

He gets no response. Right. Saturday. Hulk was asleep somewhere. Fantastic. 

For the first three days, Bruce spends about 98% of his time alone in this room, curled up in a ball on his bed. A heavy blanket lies on him, almost like a shield. He didn't even need to rest but there he was, only coming out to use the kitchen or the bathroom, ignoring everyone else in the process. 

Barton tried to talk to him. Bruce unintentionally gave a look so dirty that it slightly made the latter flinch: 

“Okay, okay– I'll back off! Sheesh,” said the blonde as he walked away. 

Tony had to physically drag him out on the fourth day. Forced him to go take a shower and shoved a bunch of clean clothes in his arms. (Said the ones Bruce already owns look way too greasy. What does that even mean?) A not-so-subtle product of Stark Industries. Why was Tony even producing clothing of all things? 

Everything is almost like a foreign story for him. Bruce walks into Tony's lab for the first time, faintly grinning as he inspects the most recent device Tony had on his hands. Tony made a mistake with the design. Minor, but a mistake nonetheless.

“Looks like I finally got your interest, big guy.” 

Right. Tony was still there.

When Bruce hesitantly turned to look at the billionaire, he didn't know what to expect to see but it was definitely not… this.

Tony's looking at him in a way he does with everyone. Smirking with his arms folded over his chest. 

It's almost casual. 

Bruce's throat burns once more, and it's not because he's trying to talk. (Though a part of him wishes he could at least mutter a thank you)

The fourth time he came back was calmer. 

He actually sat down with Thor, tried to keep up with the man's massive appetite. Bruce was very much down under five minutes but at least he got a pat on his back. Hurt a bit. It reminded him of how different he was than the other guy. Which was a good thing, maybe? 

He waved at Natasha, worked a little more with Tony, eyed the little bird in Hulk's terms– Sam, silently (not that he could do otherwise) offered Clint a jar of pickles as an apology for their last banter, which was accepted gladly and…uhh…watched Steve from a corner as he beat the hell out of a punching bag? 

He was almost surprised to see Spider-Man in the tower too– and then the memories hit. Spidey was an avenger now. The kid was brave, he had to say.

Bruce smiles- really smiles for the first time in months, maybe in years when his eyes meets the ones behind the red mask. Warmth spreads through his face and heart, and he lightly nods to greet Peter. Then walks away because the kid's stunned for some reason and it's getting too awkward for their own good. 

It doesn't last much longer. Mission calls and Bruce lets his anger take over one more time. The last thing he knows is that a green layer fell over his eyes. 

Yes, Bruce still can't look at himself in a mirror without feeling nauseous, yes, he's still a quiet presence who keeps following Tony around like a lapdog (when he's not hiding in his room) because Tony is the only person in the entire tower that he knows (somewhat) well, and yes, he still feels like shit. 

But he'll figure something out.

Chapter Text

There were times Bruce was present, away from all the green stuff, but also not really. His head was so up in his ass that Bruce doesn't count them as moments where he was standing on his own feet. He can't remember most of them, but there is a significant memory that is stuck with him.  

It was, in Tony's terms, the time everyone thought Bruce genuinely went mad.

Avengers were freshly formed. Only one clear thought was lingering in Bruce's mind: take the other guy out, no matter what it takes. He was being delusional, cruel even. But the situation was complicated even for a mind like his. 

Bruce was very much aware that the other guy wasn't… doing anything. He was under control, did most of the things he was asked, though his methods were questionable. Hell, he was even listening to Bruce.

He never meant the destruction he caused, never meant to keep Bruce locked away, never asked to be like this. 

As a result, Bruce couldn't bring himself to crush Hulk under his feet or to curse him out, no matter how much he wanted in the little space of their head, a place where Hulk was no match for Bruce. 

Still, Hulk could never give all the things he took away from Bruce back. Could never pay back for anything, in fact. 

Seeing the other guy getting treated like a hero despite everything drove him crazy. So he put all his morality aside for once and got to work for a cure, anything.

He basically locked himself away in the lab. Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks. It got so bad at some point that Clint fucking Barton asked if he was alright. 

Tony was a bit more direct. Tried to talk to Bruce, and when Bruce didn't even lift his head, Tony grabbed his shoulder to get his attention. Then something shifted in Bruce. 

In a swift motion, he turned to Tony, slapping his hand away in the meantime and intending to push him away. But something stops him just as his hand clutches Tony's coat. Maybe it was the uncharacteristic expression on the man's face. 

Now-glowing eyes meet the other, and Bruce lets him go. Takes a step back and opens his mouth to apologize. 

Nothing but a low, pained whimper is heard. Bruce's face goes red as he is once more reminded of his little problem. Fortunately, Tony leaves him be. 

Despite this, Bruce keeps going on and on. That was just the way he was. He'd run as much as his legs let him, away from his current nightmare, until he steps into another. 

He knows where he'll end up, but he runs anyway. Not because he sees a light in the end but because there's nothing else left for him to do. 

After months of research, he finally had something in his hands. He calls it a gamma energy syphon… well, theoretically. He doesn't have anything to run tests but it hurts him enough when it gets too close. 

He disappears from the tower with his machine the very next day. Finds a secluded area, near a dumpster. It's nothing more than what he deserves. 

Then again, turns out he doesn’t have the guts to let it touch his skin. He lets it get close, but no. Watches the gloves glow with green, the lightness of it starting to make him stumble. His hands keep trembling, and he feels like vomiting. The only thing he could do was to throw the device away from himself in the end. (Maybe he just doesn't want to die on this hill as much as he thinks he does)

The next thing he knows is that he's back in the tower, on a couch. The TV is open, JJJ's bullshit rambling fills the room. He has no idea when or how he got there. His arms are folded over his chest, his head is behind, resting on one of the cushions. Steve was sitting next to him, drinking some… soda? Steve was next to him, drinking soda and willingly listening to John Jonah Jameson. Was he talking about how much of a menace spider-man is again? Bruce isn't sure. 

Bruce finally turns to look at him, then they just eye each other for about a minute. 

Steve clears his throat: 

“Good evening, Doctor Banner. Uh…” 

He points at his glass: 

“Would you like some?” 

Bruce lightly shook his head. Steve sighed in relief when he finally got a response.

Really, the doc just comes back, looking plater than a ghost, throws himself on the couch without a single word and sits there like a statue for over half an hour.

“Okay, that's fine.” 

Bruce just blinks. 

After a few more seconds, Steve starts again, tone softer this time: 

“Would you like to go to bed? You seem tired.” 

Bruce was just about to part his lips. He remembers without further embarrassment this time. He turns on the couch, shaking his head. Man, he really should get up and take a small walk.

”You don't seem sure.” 

The blonde continues, keeping his voice steady: 

“Really, it's fine. I can help you.” 

And a warm hand is offered up to him. It takes a few seconds for Bruce's brain to analyze what it means. He's not even sure what Steve's talking about, but he slowly reaches for cap's hand. 

Steve smiles as he pulls Bruce on his feet with himself, his grip loose enough to let the scientist know he can pull away whenever he wants. 

Next time he hulks out, the other guy hides the device far away, if you can even call it hiding. Bruce saw where the other guy put it. It was buried under a big pile of rocks, though. 

He was almost mocking Bruce, as if telling him: “Here lies your work of months, Banner. Unharmed and working. Go get it if you can.”

Bruce thinks about reminding the other guy who was the one shivering at the mere sight of that device switched open. 

He decides against it.