Fine. Normal. Nothing to talk about.
It was totally unheard of, Tony knew, to sit in on someone else's therapy session. But he was only there because Bruce had cornered him just before it was time to go and begged him.
“Would it be weird if you... um... came to the appointment with me?” Bruce had asked.
“Yes, that would be extremely weird,” Tony had answered, working on an upgrade to the Iron Man suit and not really thinking about what his friend was trying to say. “It's therapy, Brucey. You go in alone, spill your guts to some creep who delights in getting the dirt on all your neuroses, then pay him exorbitant amounts of money to tell you you're not crazy. Or... maybe you are crazy, but pay the quack again next week and he'll pretend to fix you.”
“Jeez, Tony, it was your idea I go to this guy in the first place. I thought you said he was the best.”
“Oh, yeah, whatever. The point is, it's not couple's therapy.”
“Yeah, I know.” Bruce had shifted uneasily then, his hands fidgeting like he was nervous as hell. “But do you think you could you come with me, anyway? Please, Tony. I'm kind of scared to go alone. Please?”
Tony had never seen him vulnerable like that before. He usually was very closed off, not letting anyone get too close, not even letting Tony touch him, which he was constantly trying to do: for some reason he couldn't quite explain, he found it impossible to keep his hands to himself when his little buddy was around. Well, maybe they weren't exactly buddies yet, since Bruce ignored him most of the time. Anyway, Tony couldn't say no to that worried, pleading face. He had told him right then he would go to all his therapy sessions with him, if that's what he wanted.
***
So there they were, with Dr. Jerome Goldstein, Tony's own therapist and the man he had recommended for Bruce's little problem, in the room in which Tony often spent time talking through his issues, only this time Tony sat in a white-and-beige speckled armchair while Bruce took the long couch meant for patients to stretch out.
“You know, most people who visit me like to lay down on that couch,” Dr. Goldstein said, gesturing. “It's very comfortable and puts them at ease.”
“I'd rather sit, thank you,” Bruce said stiffly, perching on the edge of the thing like he thought it might blow up.
“Tony has told me a lot about you,” Dr. Goldstein continued. “All good things, of course.”
Bruce shot Tony a look that said, “That is so not cool.” Tony just shrugged and smiled a secret smile. He had told the therapist how his only reason to get out of bed some days was to make the little guy breakfast. He felt protective of him for some reason – Bruce just gave off a vibe that said he needed protecting – and that gave him a reason to keep going when he thought he should just give up. He had to take care of his Brucey.
“Why don't you start by telling me why you're here and what you hope to get out of our sessions?”
Bruce looked down at his foot pushing against the spotless beige carpet. “I'm getting... irritated... over little things lately. Taking that irritation out in ways that are, I guess, destructive. I'd like to be able to control myself a bit better.”
Tony tried to hold in his laughter, but it came out in one big, “Ha!” and both doctors shot him sharp looks. He couldn't help it, though: the thought of the Hulk's rages as mere venting over irritation was hilarious! The truth was, they were here because Bruce had been Hulking out a lot over little things. It was getting far beyond his control, and he was scared. And Tony was scared, too; he kept having to suit up and hide in his bedroom to protect himself from the green guy's tantrums.
“The first thing we must do,” said Dr. Goldstein, “is to explore exactly what is bothering you. It may not be as simple as you think. A rage explosion over a traffic jam, for example, may say more about one's past than it does about one's current situation. Let's start by going back to your childhood...”
Blah, blah, blah. Tony started tuning them out, gazing at his fingernails, oily and cracked from working on his suit. Should he get a manicure, or was that too girly? Hmm... He reached for a pen on the doctor's desk. Oh good, it was a clicky one. He clicked it in and out, slowly until he got into a good rhythm, then sped it up – click-click-click, clickety-click, click-click-click, click.
“It's just that I – oh, for fuck's sake, Tony, cut it out! -- It's just that I don't have anything to say because I don't really think about it much. You know, there's nothing really to say, I guess. It was fine.”
Tony stopped clicking and tuned back in. “Don't think about what?”
“Ugh, I wasn't talking to you,” Bruce groaned with exasperation, rolling his eyes. “Why would you assume I was talking to you?”
“See? This is why he's here, Jerome. So touchy.”
Dr. Goldstein ignored Tony and went on, “So nothing in your childhood that you feel we should address?”
“Nnnope.” Bruce drew out the word for emphasis. He was leaning back into the couch now, arms folded against his chest, face tight. He looked like he could use a massage, Tony thought, and he would gladly be the one to rub those tense shoulders. “Like I said, my childhood was fine. Normal. Nothing to talk about.”
***
They left without him really saying anything much. Tony knew that was often the way with therapy in the beginning. It could be hard to open up to a stranger.
That night, he poured himself a scotch and knocked on his buddy's bedroom door.
“You want me to come with you again next week?”
Bruce looked away before mumbling, “Yeah,” and shutting the door again, shutting Tony out like he always did.
***
But the next week he still had nothing to say to the therapist, couldn't think of anything that was bothering him, and had nothing to say about his past except that it was “fine” and “just a regular childhood, like everybody has.” Only, when Dr. Goldstein asked, he couldn't answer what kinds of things went on in a regular childhood like everybody has. (“Oh, you know, like... the stuff you see on TV shows...”) The same happened the next week and the week after. It was at the end of that fourth session that the therapist suggested hypnosis to jog his memory and break him out of his shell. He also suggested that Bruce might be able to open up more if Tony didn't tag along.