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“Unacceptable,”
Bruce glances up slowly from the equation he’s been quietly working on to school Tony with a highly perplexed stare.
“Excuse me?” Bruce asks politely, one brow arching upwards. Tony shakes his head, the deep frown on his face shaping his expression into one of firm decisiveness, and Bruce sighs. He knows that look. Tony wants him to do something. Specifically, for Tony. The question is of what precisely and on what level of impossibility it ranks.
“You wear the same kinds of clothing every day. Flannels, dress pants, shoes that are far past their prime and although they make you look delectably rumpled and absolutely fuckable, you need to wear something nice. Honestly, I think yoga pants would look great on you; I mean, they make your ass look awesome—”
Level 5: Fuck No, That Means Going in Public and the Not-So Jolly and Mostly Violently Angry Green Giant Will Destroy New York (Again) If You Force Me Out of the Tower, Tony, and I’m Seriously Starting to Doubt That You Are Actually the Genius You So Commonly Call Yourself. It’s almost on the top of the 7, sometimes 8 layered “That’ll Be a No, Tony” scale. Tony should be well versed in this discussion by now. Hell, Pepper even has one, and he’s been associated with her longer.
Bruce sighs. “Tony…”
“Ah!” Tony interjects, holding up a hand. “We are doing this, whether you like it or not,” Tony says, and Bruce narrows his eyes.
“Tony,”
“Alright, fine, no yoga pants. But you are getting a suit and some new shirts out of this, no objections. Come on Bruce, more than half of your shirts have chemical burns on them!” Tony’s tone shifts into a whine and Bruce rolls his eyes.
“Tony, you know the threats—”
“I already have a few stores closed only for us, so no human interaction for the antisocial green bean. No people, save the store owners, just us. No threats. You’ll be okay; I’ve got this,” Tony’s voice turns a rare pitch of gentleness that immediately tears down Bruce’s resolve and throws every stubborn remark out the window. Bruce sighs again, takes off his glasses and slips them into his shirt pocket and Tony gives a yell of success.
“Alright! Knew you’d give in,” Tony says gleefully, leaning over to peck Bruce on the cheek. “Seriously, best boyfriend. But you know, an even better one would let me buy him yoga pants—”
“You’re pushing it, Tony,” Bruce growls, and Tony throws up his hands defensively.
“Alright, alright, just saying…”
----
As promised, Tony drives Bruce to a deserted but very expensive looking store—in a moderately normal looking and not overtly flamboyant sports car, shockingly enough, which brings Bruce to the realization that Tony is honestly trying—to purchase new clothing. They’re greeted with a young woman, curvaceous, fair-haired with a pleasant smile and a gentle personality that gives Bruce a sense of comfort and relaxation. She isn’t too aggressive, her voice is quiet, and she otherwise leaves the two to their own devices save commenting on each article of clothing Tony forces Bruce to try (by Tony’s request, obviously).
“Try it with the green tie,” Tony says, thrusting said item into Bruce’s hands. “It brings out your eyes,” Tony adds with a childish grin when Bruce gave him a look. Bruce sighs and shakes his head, undoing the blue tie—which he rather likes—from around his neck and exchanging it with the green. Joanna, the quiet saleswoman and only other occupant of the store, stands in respective silence in the background. She smiles knowingly when Bruce huffs in embarrassed exasperation and drops his hand from the fabric around his neck.
“Can’t do it while you’re watching,” Bruce explains curtly, glancing off. Tony grins—doesn’t smirk; he finds Bruce too cute to be that abrasive—and picks up the edge of the half-tied tie between his fore- and middle fingers. “You did a moment ago,” he murmurs as he undoes then redoes the tie for Bruce.
“You were looking for more suits at the time,”
“Joanna was here,”
“She’s different,”
“How so?”
“She’s not a cruel pervert like you,” Bruce frowns in annoyance.
Tony cocks a brow and chuckles. “So you were scared I’d tease you,”
Bruce keeps his eyes averted. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘scared,’ but yes, essentially,”
“Hm,” Tony purses his lips in consideration, running his fingers thoughtfully along the silky green fabric. “Naw. Cute as you as you get when you’re teased, I’m feeling unusually generous today,”
Bruce laughs quietly, his eyes skimming over the suits hanging on a rack just a few feet away. “Yeah, I gathered,”
“Not what I meant exactly, Brucey,” Tony purrs, and with one quick yank, Bruce’s face is turned back to Tony’s and he’s being kissed. It’s soft, chaste—rare considering how Tony generally kisses Bruce (Tony is scarcely so intimate). It leaves Bruce chasing after Tony’s lips, hungry for that sweet rarity, and he’s given what he’s wordlessly asked for a good minute or so before Tony—being Tony—decides to ruin it.
“You know,” Tony murmurs, mouth just inches from Bruce—hovering, the tease, “I rather like this tie on its own. We could use it for other…things, y’know? You always look so dangerous when you have green on your skin—”
“Tony,” Bruce yelps, shoving him away. Joanna giggles in the milieu and it rekindles the redness to Bruce’s cheeks and elicits a peal of laughter from Tony.
“You know what he looks good in, Joanna. Ring ’im on up!”
Joanna nods, grabs the chosen suits and weaves her way through the thicket of clothing racks to the cash register. On the way through—Bruce more slowly, because dammit, these racks are like a maze—Tony stops Bruce suddenly and holds up what looks like black slacks with a suspiciously deadpan expression. He waggles it, face still perfectly blank. Bruce squints at the slacks.
Not slacks. Of course this store has to have a sports section in it.
“I want to go home after this,” is Bruce’s only response before he’s storming his way to the cash register. Tony is trailing behind, cackling like a moron and singing that one day, one day, Bruce will give in. Bruce disregards him completely and directs his full attention to Joanna as she rings up the clothing.
Bruce nearly faints.
“Don’t you even dare,” Tony cuts in, pressing a solitary finger to Bruce’s lower lip when he opens his mouth to object. “This is my money and I will use it how I please,”
A few futile attempts at arguing later, Bruce finally caves with a heavy sigh and keeps his eyes elsewhere as Joanna finishes ringing up the suits. He winces when he hears the familiar swipe of Tony’s credit card which Tony responds to with a sigh.
“Dammit, Bruce, just let me spoil you,” Tony grumbles as he takes the bag of clothing. Bruce only feels worse as they walk out the store, Tony with his shoulders slack and a sulky expression on his face. Guilty, Bruce takes a shot at cheering Tony back up by changing his plans to go home to shopping some more, and although it lightens Tony’s mood just a little bit, he isn’t as buzzed with excitement as he was in the beginning. It makes Bruce feel like the bad guy.
“Alright, that’s the last store,” Tony says, tossing the Tommy Bahamas bag gently into the back seat. Bruce chews his bottom lip, debating. The first store isn’t too far away, and Joanna could still possibly be there…
“Wait,” Bruce blurts, catching Tony’s wrist as he’s putting the keys into the ignition. “I… We need to stop by the first store again,”
“Diablo’s? What do you need there?” Tony asks, brows raised in confused curiosity.
“I just need to go back. I forgot something,” Bruce explains, and it’s not necessarily a lie.
“Okay…” Tony agrees slowly, and his look of perplexed anticipation stays constant throughout the drive back. Hell, Bruce can still feel it as he’s scurrying out of the car and rushing to the door. He raps on it loudly, greeted barely a minute Joanna. She smiles fondly and unlatches the door for Bruce.
“I knew you’d come back,” she says, leading Bruce back to the register.
“He’s killing me with his whole kicked puppy ordeal,” Bruce confesses with a shake of his head. Joanna laughs.
“I could tell,” she says. She makes quick work of swiping Bruce’s purchase—even gives him a discount; Bruce rather likes this girl—and hiding it safely in its bag. “Go get him, tiger,” she teases lightly, throwing him a wink as he laughs and exits the store.
Tony is practically falling apart at the seems, leaning over the edge of the car in eagerness. He perks up noticeably when Bruce comes into view, and squirms when he sees the bag in Bruce’s hand.
“What’s that? What’d you get? Lemme see,” he says, his hands all over Bruce when the doctor seat himself.
Bruce flushes and averts his eyes—again, nasty habit right there—as he hands Tony the bag. “Just a little somethin’,” Bruce says quietly.
Tony’s brows are raised considerably as he takes the contents from the bag, and the smile that blooms across his lips looks like it’ll just about break his face. “I can’t believe you,”
“Didn’t know you to be such a skeptic,” Bruce says softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“No, no, that won’t go unrewarded; c’mere, you big lunk,” Tony says, grabbing Bruce’s collar and pulling him in for a warm kiss. Bruce laughs against his lips and kisses him back momentarily before moving back an inch.
“Don’t abuse this new privilege,” Bruce warns.
“Oh come on, I’ll abuse it in the best ways. Actually, no, I think I’ll be pretty gentle,” Tony says, then after a shameless once over, he smirks. “Naw, you in these pants? I don’t think I could control myself enough not to go a little crazy,”
“Perv,” Bruce jokes.
“You love it,” Tony fires right back.
Bruce doesn’t argue, just indulges his boyfriend with another kiss.