Chapter Text
Bruce Banner chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits for his computer to power on. He’s growing impatient, fingers drumming lightly on his desk, but he doesn’t want to admit that he’s starting to be convinced by Tony’s proposition to replace it. Not that Bruce hadn’t considered the chipped paint, the screen coming off the hinges, and the frequent notification stating that the device was no longer supported by its manufacturer. (A cheap Stark Industries knockoff.)
But Bruce knows he can’t just get rid of it – well, he theoretically can, but he has too many excuses not to. Every now and then, when Bruce thinks about this, the computer’s dusty camera lens gleams as if it’s an eye welling with tears, begging to be kept around. Bruce can’t just abandon a friend because it was non-functional, right? Moreover – this is his favorite excuse – the computer had been with him since university. It was his first electronic that he purchased with his own money. Sure, it was at a suspiciously low price from a brand he’d never heard of until its executive got arrested for hiring a Siberian criminal to murder Iron Man, but it was something. And it was secondhand, making it not only cheap but environmentally friendly and ethical since the money didn’t go directly to the manufacturer.
The point is, this computer had seen him at his worst. It saw him post-Gamma Bomb incident, back when he used to keep logs tracking the effects of the radiation of his body. He used this computer to talk to Dr. Blue back when he was in Brazil. This computer had been his coding teacher; a jailbreaking miracle. And it had survived multiple Hulk-outs, as somehow, in the midst of destroying everything in his path, Hulk would always spare this specific item. (Bruce had spoken with Hulk about this; Hulk simply stated that he liked the stickers on it since they were green and were of cute animals. Bruce liked them too, so he could get behind the protector’s actions for once.)
The computer has been stuck at the “login” screen for a whopping 20 minutes, not responding to Bruce’s repeated inputs of his username and password. Bruce is pretty sure that he can hear it hissing, maybe even steaming from the inside from the way he can feel the metal heat up his desk. He peeks at the fans, which he had just cleaned not even a day ago. Though there’s no visible trance of dust, the sound persists, and Bruce gives the device a gentle tap. When it doesn’t quiet down, he does three taps, this time a little harder. Still no response.
“You have a hard drive, it’s basically going to be the same if you use another device. Well, the same, but better,” Tony had once said. “I mean, sure, I don’t think you’d be able to transfer your custom cursor, but that takes, like, two seconds to make.”
“Well, yeah,” Bruce replied. It was a classic cop-out of his; agree with the other person to stave them off, but then do his own thing.
“Come on, just one more time,” Bruce whispers to the computer unknowingly. “Good machine. Good machine, that’s it. There we go. No, no, don’t do that–”
“I can’t see why you’d keep that thing for any reason other than data,” Tony sighed. “Which doesn’t even make sense, since this thing looks like it could crash and erase everything any second.”
“Is it actually bothering you?” Bruce asked cautiously, concerned that Tony’s insistence was a sign that he was expressing genuine distress. It wasn’t like Bruce brought his computer to work – that was a clear safety hazard – but still, he was beginning to wonder if maybe the sound of the fan was annoying to hear whenever someone paid a visit to his home office. If it was really that bad, he would’ve gotten a new computer a while ago.
“Huh, what?” Tony had put down his sandwich, blinking in confusion. That action alone had already calmed Bruce, causing his shoulders to unclench. “Oh, what, no, I’m fine! I’m just messing with you, Doc.”
Bruce internally wails as the computer screen starts to split down the middle, static forming around the line. He’s also starting to wonder how, in all these years of technological malfunctions, the Hulk has never come out. (Probably because they weren’t a real threat to anything other than Bruce’s thinning patience.)
“It is weird that you’re denying a free computer though. From the best electronics manufacturer in the whole world, by the way.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “I’d feel bad for taking it. I’m already living in your tower rent-free.”
“You pay me through cool science?”
“And I mean, I don’t want to get a new computer when I don’t need one. Sure, mine’s not brand new, but I want to…you know, reduce my carbon footprint.”
“Did you forget what Stark Industries does?”
Bruce uses his mouse to click on the login bar one last time. Miraculously, the arrow on his screen becomes a text cursor, prompting him to nearly leap out of his seat. He’s not able to actually type, but this is progress.
“I don’t want to abandon my computer just because it’s just showing signs of old age.”
“It’s a computer, it doesn’t care.”
“Who’s a good machine?” Bruce finds himself cooing, stroking the side of the screen. “You are, you are! You’re a good machine. Come on, just a little more. Let me type it in…yes, good machine. Good machine, you're so close. Who's my favorite machine?”
“Whoa Bruce, you busy in there? I can always come later,” someone interrupts, the smirk audible in their voice. Bruce is still for a moment until his jaw drops as he realizes that he’s been saying all his thoughts out loud, with the door open as well. If the computer is overheating, that means that Bruce’s face is completely on fire.