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Tony was halfway through the aisle, rapidly scanning the shelves with focused attention, when the voice intruded on his awareness.
“—can’t fucking believe you,” a man was saying with a low, gritty intensity into the phone. “You save me once and I’m stuck doing favors for you forever? Is that how this works?”
Tony didn’t deviate from the search pattern, but distantly noted that it was a nice-sounding voice, despite the speech content. Besides, his hand was clenched around the eighth Gingerbread Latte of the afternoon, and it had passed the resting tremor stage about an hour ago, so he was maybe not in the best position to be passing judgment on the lives of strangers.
“Yeah, I know.” There was the voice again. “Look, I don’t care, all right? I believe you. I believe that she will kill you in your sleep. Only, no, you know what? I don’t believe that. I believe she’ll kill you when you’re awake. She wouldn’t miss the chance to make you suffer. Her brain’s a maze of knives, why did you marry her in the first place? Oh, right, you think it’s sexy that she can kill you with a pencil—”
That was right about the time Tony spotted the last three-foot-tall Rey doll, bingo! He’d known it had to be here somewhere from the tracking data he might, possibly, have illegally obtained, although exactly how illegal it could possibly be if their security was that weak he couldn’t be sure. His hand shot out for it.
…At the same instant as someone else’s hand landed on the other side. Tony glanced up, startled.
“Shit,” said the guy, “I’ll call you back.”
They stared at each other for a minute, each holding one side of the box.
“My niece,” said Tony. “Well, technically, not niece, I’m not her mom’s brother, but pretty close, you know? Found family. Better than the blood kind, if you ask me. Anyway, she needs a strong female role model, now more than ever, you know? Also, I put a ludicrous amount of effort into finding this, I may have broken a law or two, even, so. Please. It’s Christmas Eve. I don’t want to disappoint her. Or her mom.”
The guy kept staring at him. He had huge bags under his eyes and looked like hell, dark curly hair damp from the snow outside, straggling down into his eyes.
“I know it may seem unfair, based on that phone conversation you were just having, not that I was trying to overhear but you know how it is, the brain can’t really successfully ignore a one-sided conversation, pretty sure there’s research on that,” Tony added. “But I think if you search your heart, you’ll find that my niece has a dire need for some figure in her life to consider a role model, and God knows it isn’t going to be me, look at me, right? So. Please. Let me have the doll.”
“Tony Stark?” The guy looked puzzled.
Tony blinked at him. “Yes?”
“I’m Bruce Banner. From the hardware R&D team.”
“Oh! Oh, Jesus Christ. That puts a whole new spin on this.” And it did; the reports Tony, from his lofty tower in Software Development, had received from a B. Banner over the months since he’d joined Rhodes Industries had been the source of no few minor explosions. Some figurative and a few literal, when the hardware had proved incapable of standing up to Tony’s rigorous testing. He frowned bleakly at Bruce. “All right. Physical combat?”
“What? No! Christ.” Bruce ran his free hand over his chin, squeezing his eyes shut in what looked like despair. “I’m not going to fight you over a doll.”
“Really? Because it sounded like your buddy was counting on you. Just giving up like that—I don’t know what to tell you, but it doesn’t look good.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m just not going to punch you over it.”
“I suppose that’s fair, if you were ever going to punch me I have to assume you would have done it over the XQ-348, but other than that I’m at a loss as to how to decide which one of us is walking out with this before the store closes. If we’re debating over it I probably have an edge because I have had a lot of caffeine today and I’m guessing I can stand to talk longer than you can stand to listen.”
“Yeah, probably.” Bruce gently unclenched his free hand, which had been spasmodically curling into a fist while Tony talked, and rubbed his forehead firmly. “I need it for my friend’s kid. He saved my life in a military op I’m not supposed to admit happened in a country I can’t disclose. I think that outweighs strong female role model.”
They were standing close—close enough that Tony could see the full, soft bow of Bruce’s lips; close enough to smell his cologne, something woody and sharp, maybe Burberry—and Tony felt something dangerous seesaw abruptly in his chest.
“But is it for a boy or girl?” Tony raised his eyebrows. “I’m not arguing that it’s not important for boys to have strong women as role models, too, but in the wake of this fucking national disaster masquerading as an election, it’s particularly important for girls to see women as independent, capable leaders.”
Bruce was clearly gritting his teeth. “Saved. My. Life.”
“See, this was why I offered you the trial by combat option right off the bat. For what it’s worth, I think you’d probably win, and it would save us a lot of time. Although it may be slightly unfair given that you’re apparently ex-military, which, by the way, I did not know, that explains a lot about the way you write a report. I just figured you had a stick up your ass one hundred percent of the time, but if you were military of course you write like they’re charging you for every glimpse of humanity.”
“I’ll show you a glimpse of humanity—” Bruce shook his head vehemently. “No. We’re not doing this.”
“I hate to point this out, but the longer we stand here, the less chance the loser has of getting another one at a different store. Reduces search radius by time considerations alone.”
Bruce squinted at him skeptically. “I can’t see you hanging around here if you honestly thought there was another doll within thirty miles.”
Tony sighed. “Busted. I can tell you there isn’t.”
“You could have lied to me, right there.”
“I could have, but I’m exhausted and wired on caffeine and I’m just not convinced this is worth the amount of effort we’re putting in.”
“Now are you trying to convince me to give it up?”
“Would it work if I did?”
Bruce shook his head.
“Right. Didn’t think so.”
“Just let me have it,” said Bruce. “I’m afraid for Clint’s safety if I don’t show up with it.”
“Why didn’t he order it online?”
“He did. It was delivered while they were out of town. Stolen right off their porch. What’s your friend’s excuse?”
“Her kid just decided this was the only thing that would do like three days ago.”
“See, Clint’s kid has been obsessed with this thing for weeks. His room is covered in Rey posters, and you know they have shit merchandise for her. Sounds like my kid is more invested in this than your kid.”
It was a good point, and Tony hesitated. Bruce saw it and went in for the kill, eyes sharpening.
“What else is this kid interested in? I’ll help you find it. Anything. Just let me do this for my old buddy who saved my life in the service of our proud country back before it went to shit in twenty-four hours.”
“Dammit!” Tony yanked his hand off the box, and Bruce grabbed it in one fluid motion. “Fine. Fine. I admit it. Pepper’s kid can be kind of a dilettante in her interests. There’s some rumor she gets it from me but I have to dispute that as I donated zero genetic material to that project. You’re helping me find something awesome, though.”
“Fine,” said Bruce, cradling the box against his broad chest. He looked like he was struggling not to smile. “What does she like?”
“God, okay. She’s not a huge fan of fashion dolls, so Barbies, etc., are out of the question. She’s got a state of the art computer, obviously, and she doesn’t really need any accessories for that.”
“Does she have a VR environment setup?”
“No, but don’t you think that’s a little—” Tony made a waffling hand gesture, “given that it’s such a trendy topic right now and nobody’s really built a great use for it yet? The games are all kind of eh.”
Bruce sighed. “You sound like a Grinch.”
“I’m just realistic! Current VR shit is a flash in the pan compared to what we’re going to get when people figure out better uses for the available technology and refine it so you don’t need the bulky—look, we’ve had varying levels of VR environments for decades now, if it was going to turn into something cool don’t you think it would have done it by now? Instead it’s mostly a tool for enhanced movie-watching, which she’s not that into.”
“Okay, fine, we’re ruling that out. Robotics?”
“Same fundamental problem. State of the field just isn’t where it needs to be in order for that to be a really viable gift strategy.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Bruce wonderingly, “you really do sound like that.”
“As opposed to what?”
“I thought you were just being an asshole in your reports.”
“I’m an asshole all the time, I don’t just save it for my reports. Anyway, keep the ideas coming, I need more if we’re going to find one I don’t have to shoot down.”
“You really should not be a manager.”
“God, am I one? I hope not. Anyway, look, so we’ve said no to VR console tech and robotics, which are obviously the highest-yield stuff you’re going to have up your sleeve and let’s be real if you thought they were that strong of contenders you would have gone with that for your kid, instead of an actual physical doll, so. Ideas. Toss them out.”
Bruce sighed. He still had his arms crossed over the box, which made him look like he was hugging it. “I did have a back-up plan.”
“Spill.”
“There’s a comic store about five miles from here with the best replica lightsabers I’ve found. They’re, uh, not strictly speaking legally licensed, but they’re better quality than anything you can get delivered overnight.”
“They’ve got Rey’s?”
“They’ve got Rey’s.”
“Any costume replicas?”
“Yeah. Good ones.”
“That would fit a five-foot-tall girl?”
“…I’m not sure but I think so.”
“Okay. Sold. But you’re coming with me.”
“What?” Bruce looked blank.
“You said you’d help me. So you’re going to help me to the bitter fucking end, because I let you have that doll out of the infinite goodness of my heart.”
“I don’t—how exactly am I supposed to help you by going with you?”
“If that store doesn’t exist or doesn’t have the lightsaber and the costume you’re figuring out a new plan for me.”
“I—okay?”
“Glad we can agree on that. Come on, let’s get you checked out and get on the road.”
Bruce continued to look confused as Tony hustled him to the check-out line. It was finally fucking starting to thin out, but they still had a solid ten minutes of watching the line shuffle forward painfully slowly. Tony withstood about forty seconds before cracking.
“Look, as long as we’re stuck here we might as well talk shop.”
“What?” Bruce glanced up from a frown in the general direction of some tabloids Tony didn’t for a hot second believe he’d been reading.
“The product we’re building for workspace collaboration,” said Tony patiently, or at least as close an approximation to patience as he could manage at that particular point. “Your hardware specs have been way off-base. Nobody’s going to sit like that to use it.”
“You’ve seen the sketches? Those were—”
“If you want to keep me out of your designs, you’re going to have to do something a little more sophisticated with your files. You know you keep them on the company servers, right?”
“Where the hell else—?”
“Let’s not get into that.” Tony waved one hand negligently, still nursing his ice-cold latte with the other. “Anyway, the user interfaces. They suck.”
“Oh, and what would you do with them?”
Tony looked around for a second before digging a pen out of his shirt pocket and starting to scribble on the cup. “Something more like—”
“That’s going to fuck up the—”
“No, no, just give me a chance.”
By the time the cashier coughed grimly to get Bruce’s attention, they’d hammered out at least the parameters of Tony’s discontent with the user interface, and Tony had been forced to agree that his initial specs for correcting it were “just completely fucking insane, are you high?”
When they got out the door, it was snowing, a dusting that made Tony wrinkle his nose. “Fuck. We should take my car, I reprogrammed the antilock brakes.”
“That sentence does not fill me with confidence.”
“Well, it should. It’ll be safer than whatever you’ve got on yours.”
“I didn’t actually drive.” At Tony’s raised eyebrows Bruce said, “It’s New York City, no one actually has to drive anywhere.”
“Yeah, if you enjoy subways. Jesus. Come on, I’m over here.”
The parking garage was tightly packed with other desperate people, and by the time Tony had maneuvered the little black car out of its space and was waiting in the line for the exit, Bruce was obviously forcing himself not to cling to the door handle.
“It’s fine,” said Tony. “Do you just not drive, like, ever?”
“Road rage.” Bruce took his eyes off the bumper of the car ahead of them to glare at Tony. “If I don’t drive, there’s no temptation.”
“Yeah, I get that, you seem like a guy who’s pretty tightly wound, I can imagine you being a real hazard in traffic.”
“I’m tightly-w—”
“That’s what I said. Okay, are you going to navigate me here or not? Where’s your phone? Are you even looking up directions? I don’t know how you expect us to finish this before midnight if—”
“Left turn up ahead,” said Bruce through his teeth.
“Very specific, great, which—okay, okay.”
The rest of the trip was spent alternately demanding instructions and haggling over the finer points of the user interface, which Bruce clearly had a vested interest in keeping stupid and awful, but at least he was willing to discuss ways to improve it. By the time they got to the store, the pinched look on Bruce’s face had eased. Tony kept sneaking sidelong glances at him. He would have remembered, if they’d ever met.
“All right.” Tony killed the engine. “Let’s see about this Project Fully Equip Amelia.”
“Amelia?”
“Don’t start.”
“Fine.”
“I tried to convince Pepper to go for something that felt a little less yoga-pants-corporate-mom but she wasn’t having any of it.”
“Yeah? What did you suggest?”
“Kepler. It’s great! Very unisex.”
“Can’t believe she didn’t go for it,” said Bruce dryly.
“Yeah, I know, right?” The snow crunched under Tony’s feet as he pushed the door open. “Thank God this place is still open. Okay, shopkeepers! I’m in need of your finest replica lightsaber and costume suitable for a young scavenger off a desert planet, thank you very much!”
The clerk blinked at him before trundling slowly around the counter to wave him to a corner that had everything he needed. He probably didn’t strictly speaking need the accessories, but what the hell.
He waved the stick in Bruce’s direction. “Think this would be a good addition?”
“If you want her to put somebody’s eye out.”
“She’s careful! Besides, if she does, it’ll be a great story for the rest of her life. She’ll be able to say ‘don’t make me take your eye, like I took my first enemy’s.’”
“You really need to ease off on the lattes.”
“I’m getting it. If Pepper really hates it she can always take it back. She can be the bad guy.”
“So, you spend Christmas with Pepper and Amelia?”
“Yeah, and a couple of other friends. Pepper kind of collects them. We’re like stray dogs, you know? She feeds and waters us and in return we—well, actually, I’m not clear on what we bring to the table, she’s pretty much perfect. If I weren’t gay I would have married her years ago. She really is the kind of corporate mom who does yoga and still cooks and her house looks fucking flawless for Christmas so I have to assume part of it is just being rich but part of it’s probably a compact with the Devil.”
“Uh huh.”
Tony hadn’t been looking at Bruce’s face, but he darted a quick glance over. Bruce had picked up a little model Enterprise-D and was staring at it pensively.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Tony smacked Bruce’s wrist. “No fraternizing with the enemy. This is strictly a Star Wars kind of Christmas.”
Bruce looked up at Tony, laughing in disbelief. “Seriously? She should grow up in a multicultural household.”
“Like the one you’re going to? Do you spend Christmas with your buddy and his wife, or you head somewhere else?”
Bruce nodded slightly down at the model he was still holding. “Their house. Not a lot of family.”
“Yeah, me neither. Dead parents, no siblings. No cousins to speak of, in the sense that I sincerely do not want to spend any holidays talking to them or, God forbid, listening to them. Family, you know, I guess it’s got perks, but overall I’ll take my found family instead, you know what I’m saying?”
“Same.” Bruce rolled out his shoulders uncomfortably.
“Sucks, man. Sorry.”
“Yeah. You too.”
Tony finally grabbed the last of the pieces he’d been picking out for Amelia’s costume. “Okay! Time to check out.”
Bruce trailed him to the counter, where the proprietor’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the pile of merchandise, but dutifully rang it all up.
“Jesus,” said Bruce, “you’re really into this Christmas thing, aren’t you?”
“What else do I spend money on?” Tony shrugged. “Clothes, watches? Whatever. Kids are more fun. They do stuff, stuff I don’t even see coming, with whatever you give them. They’re all little scientists until it gets crushed out of them. And storytellers, and explorers, you get the picture. The longer I can keep the world from leaching the joy out of her soul, the better.”
Bruce huffed noncommittally.
The clerk pushed the bag of goodies across the counter at Tony, and Tony slid his fingers through the plastic loops. “Okay. Great. Thanks, guys, good doing business with you, I’ll probably be back next time there’s a new franchise with female leads!” he called over his shoulder on the way out. They waved silently back.
“So,” said Bruce.
“I’m starving. Are you hungry?”
“…Yes?”
“Good. There’s a place not too far from here, let’s get a bite to eat to celebrate our victories before I drop you off.”
Bruce tilted his head just the barest degree—didn’t smile, but it was clearly a close thing.
“Okay.” Bruce shrugged. And it was that easy for them to pile back into the car, still arguing over the project, ranging out from the interface now to the fundamental design of the platform.
The place Tony had in mind had an unfortunate series of generic neon signs, but once they got inside, Bruce inhaled through his nose deeply, and Tony didn’t think he was imagining the faint upturn of his lips at the corners.
Tony leaned on the counter while ordering his pho, and Bruce ordered with ease.
They settled in at a table for two, Bruce with a glass of water, condensation puddling in a ring on the plastic, and Tony with a Coke that Bruce shot a sidelong glance at. Bruce grabbed a paper napkin and the pen from Tony’s shirt pocket, dragging an involuntary shudder out of Tony. Bruce didn’t look up from the schematics he was sketching.
They argued all through the pho, and by the time Tony shoved the last of the creampuff into his mouth, he knew two things: one, that they’d just shaved off months of design work, and two, that this had to continue.
“Look,” he said. Bruce glanced up at him, startled, and then his eyes fixated on the corner of Tony’s mouth. “Great, creampuff, right?” Tony rolled his eyes and licked off the cream, and Bruce’s eyes flicked back down to his mouth. “Right. Anyway, we should be working as a team.”
“What?” Bruce seemed distracted, though he was managing to meet Tony’s eyes.
“You heard me. We’re saving the company a fucking shit ton of money by working together, this would have taken how many rounds of reports to manage? I’ll talk to Rhodey about it, we should clearly be sharing office space, I don’t know what yours look like but mine’s pretty good but then again we’ll need lab access for your work and mine’s all on the computers so it probably makes more sense to shift me down to your department. I can yell at my colleagues on video just fine.”
“You’re—moving in to my office?” Bruce was frowning deeply, looking profoundly alarmed.
“Yeah. It’s the obvious solution to the problems we keep running into with communication. I can’t believe this didn’t occur to me sooner, but it’ll boost our productivity through the roof. Rhodey’ll love it.”
“You know Rhodes?”
“You kidding? We’re basically besties. We went to MIT together. When he came back and started up this joint he tapped me right off the bat. I was just spinning my wheels, anyway, drinking way too much, but he got me focused on this and I admitted I had a problem, yada yada, and long story short, now I’m medicated for the bipolar disorder and I get a lot more shit done.”
“Okay. So, uh, you went to MIT with our CEO and you’re moving into my office.”
“Yeah, that’s the plan, except that there’s one big thing we’ve got to deal with. Elephant in the room. I need to know if it’s going to be a problem.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows wearily. “Oh?”
They really were small tables. Tony reached across and put a hand on the back of Bruce’s neck, and kissed Bruce. He put everything he had into it, humming with the burning-off caffeine, the anxiety, the uncomfortable knowledge that he’d skipped his meds that evening, the slowly-growing certainty over the course of the evening that Bruce was stealing glances at him, too.
Bruce kissed back. His hands clamped onto Tony’s elbows like vises, and he tipped his head to the side, pressing for more.
When Tony pulled back, Bruce’s grip tightened briefly before he relaxed, but didn’t quite let go. Tony said, breathless, “Okay, so, is that going to be a problem? You’re going to be in an enclosed space working with me, are you going to be able to stand it day in, day out?”
Bruce’s eyes were searching his face. “You seem pretty sure it’s going to be day in, day out.”
“I’m a genius,” said Tony reasonably. “I think this is going somewhere good. If you don’t, that’s fine, but I still think we should share an office. I mean, for fuck’s sake, we’ve got half the product design done in a couple hours.”
“What the hell.” Bruce shook his head. “Sure.” Then yanked him back in, and they collided for a kiss.
The woman behind the counter coughed pointedly. “Yeah, yeah,” Tony called to her, “I’ll tip, okay? I’ll leave a tip. We’re the only people in here, anyway, we’re not traumatizing anyone.”
She coughed again, harder, glaring at him. He tossed an extra ten on the table and dragged Bruce with him out the door.
They made it as far as the first streetlight before Bruce had him back up against the pole, cupping his face, kissing him like he was dying for it.
Tony broke away and panted out, “Gotta—get to Pepper’s tonight. You going to Clint’s?”
Bruce struggled for a minute for words. “Y—yeah.”
“But after, right?” Tony squeezed Bruce’s ass through his jeans. “After.”
“After,” Bruce agreed grudgingly before giving Tony a punishing hickey. Tony groaned.
They got stiffly into Tony’s car; Bruce let his hand rest on Tony’s thigh and Tony glowered across at him. Bruce just barely lifted his eyebrows, looking distinctly unimpressed.
“It’s going to be a fucking disaster if this doesn’t work out.” Bruce was staring out the passenger window, looking like a different man than the one who’d clung to the car door earlier that night.
“Let’s be fair,” said Tony, “most of what I’m involved with is spectacular success. I only have spectacular failures very occasionally. Besides, I could just move back to my old office.” It was already easy to think of that space as his old office, part of a former life he had no more use for.
“Yeah.” There was a ghost of a smile on Bruce’s mouth.
“You scared?”
That got him a real smile, sideways, unexpectedly sweet. “Always.”
“Good. We should be. I am, too, if it’s not obvious, I suppose I was shaking to start with.”
Bruce roared out a laugh and pressed a thumb into Tony’s leg.
When he dropped Bruce off he got another kiss, which ended up with Bruce kneeling above him in the driver’s seat, fingers tangled tightly in Tony’s hair, and they didn’t break apart until Bruce managed to honk the horn with his ass. They cracked up, still kissing, and then Bruce peeled himself off Tony. He did lean back into the car to say, in a voice that could easily have been threatening, “Tomorrow night?”
“Yeah.” Tony grinned at him, lips still tender, cock throbbing in his jeans. “Tomorrow night.”
Christmas morning was great. Amelia loved the outfit and spent the rest of the afternoon running around in full costume pouncing on the unsuspecting with her lightsaber.
When he got a text shortly after dinner, he snagged his coat off the rack and was out the door like lightning.
Christmas night was even better; ultimately, it turned out he’d been right about everything, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone, but what the hell, he’d take a happy ending even if it had been predictable.