On Bruce's Terms
Tony woke up to the pale light of dawn pushing against his closed eyelids. His bed felt warmer than usual, and strangely closed in, like there were walls on either side of him, or like the blankets were piled up really high on one side. He tugged on the duvet to straighten it out, but it was caught on something and didn't move. That's when he listened and heard the light breath of someone sleeping peacefully beside him.
He didn't even have to open his eyes, just rolled toward the sound, nudged a bare elbow out of his way, and tucked his arm happily around Bruce's middle. With the way things had gone last night, he was even more surprised than he otherwise would have been to find him in his bed, and even more ecstatic, too. He curled his body snugly around the body of his friend -- whom he now realized was wearing only boxers, not the pyjamas he had had on a mere couple of hours ago in the kitchen -- pleased that Bruce would still seek comfort in his bed on the very night he had behaved like such a drunken fool.
He put his face against the damp brown curls – not damp from sweat, but freshly showered, smelling sweetly of shampoo – murmuring, “God, Bruce, what are you doing to me?”
“Huh?” Bruce responded, groggy and hoarse.
“Mmmm, you're awake.” Tony didn't move from his position as human blanket, even though he knew his erection could easily be felt, and Bruce didn't try to move either. “Tell me something, Brucey.”
“Hmm?”
“What made you spaz last night? Was it because I was drunk?”
There was a slight movement of the head that may have been a nod. “You never know what someone's gonna do when they're drunk.”
“True,” Tony squeezed him tighter, “but not entirely. With some people, you can know what they're not going to do. I'm not going to hurt you when I'm drunk, Bruce.”
Tony was almost asleep again when, after a long silence, the voice next to him lamented, “I can't believe I freaked out like that, I'm such an idiot.”
“Hey,” Tony mumbled, trying to wake up again, “at least you didn't hulk out. Freak out is just fine, babe.” Without thinking and with his only motivation being a nice punctuation for the end of his sentence, he raised his head and placed a small kiss on Bruce's neck, and felt him immediately freeze.
He didn't let go but didn't try for a second kiss either. Maybe nothing beyond this would ever happen between them, but he didn't even care. Well, maybe he cared a bit; it had been a couple of months since he'd had any action, maybe the longest he'd ever been. But lying next to Bruce, holding him, reassuring him, making him feel safe, that was what he wanted most of all. They slept till noon.
***
“I'm making it up to you,” Tony announced that evening.
“What are you talking about?” Bruce looked up from the equations on his holographic screen, confused by these simple words in a way he never seemed to be by complex formulas.
“Coming home drunk last night, smashing things, scaring the shit out of you. I'm sorry, and I'm making it up to you tonight, right now. I have a surprise for you, follow me!”
He dragged a flustered Bruce out of the lab by his arm and into the living room where a large box sat on the coffee table, wrapped in shiny green paper and a big green bow.
“Does everything you give me have to be green?” Bruce asked, eyeing the card. “'To my BFF, from me. You know who I am.' Cute, Tony.”
Slowly, (a bit suspiciously, Tony thought), he unwrapped his present. Inside were beakers, Bunsen burners, pH test paper, safety goggles, and vials of chemicals: Cadmium sulfate, Pyridine, and many others.
“I know you already have all this stuff,” Tony explained, “I just wanted to make you--”
“A chemistry set!” Bruce interrupted, his face lighting up. “You made me a chemistry set just like the one I got for my seventh birthday. Although I doubt my kiddie set included Chloroform. I love it, Tony, you totally rock!”
“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged. “But wait till you see what else I have for you.”
“There's more? Wait a minute, you know it's not actually my birthday, right?”
“Just follow me to the kitchen. I'm making another good memory for you, okay? So don't question it. And close your eyes, too.”
In the kitchen, Tony sat him down on a stool and placed the surprise in front of him.
“Okay, open your eyes.”
It was a chocolate cake, Tony had made it himself. He watched as Bruce's eyes welled up with tears and he took a deep breath to hold them back.
“Your special day got ripped away from you, so I'm giving it back.”
“How did you even get time to go buy all that stuff and then get back here and bake a fucking amazing cake?”
Tony shrugged. “I wore the suit,” he said, matter-of-factly.
***
He should have known that when it happened, it would happen on Bruce's terms, as had been the case with nearly every hug, cuddle, and reassuring touch up to that point.
Several days passed with nothing more than a very close friendship. Tony woke each morning searching the bed with his hand, hopeful that Bruce might have crawled in with him during the night, but he was never there. They spent their days together, and each time Bruce spoke, Tony had to fight himself to keep from staring at those gorgeous lips. At night he found himself thinking with a pounding heart about what he had seen the morning after his drunkenness: Bruce got out of bed that day in his tight red boxer briefs, and he had memorized the entire amazing shape of his body.
Then, one evening Tony invited Steve and Clint over to watch a soccer game. The four of them were in the living room eating snacks; Tony and Clint were having beers, but Tony was sticking to just one or two, since he had promised Bruce he would definitely not get drunk.
“Tony, don't you have a jersey?” Clint asked. “I thought you had a Messi jersey. You should be wearing it right now, man!”
Tony agreed, since he felt like being a little silly – he would never seriously wear a jersey unless he was actually playing a sport – and went to his room to find it. He had just taken off his shirt when he felt someone's eyes on him. Turning, he saw Bruce in the doorway, leaning casually on the frame and staring at him.
“Like what you see?” Tony joked.
Bruce ignored the question. “Hey, Tony,” he began, slowly, with a sheepish look on his face, “you remember when we were in bed last week? Remember you... uh... kissed... my neck?”
Tony smiled. “Yeah, sorry about that. You know me, I can't keep my hands and mouth off anything if it's both half-naked and in my bed.”
He smiled too, but looked slightly disappointed. “Oh, yeah, I, uh, I figured that was it.” He turned to leave.
“No, wait! Why? I mean, was there something you were going to ask, or...?”
“Well...” Bruce turned and came into the room. He ducked his head shyly and mumbled something.
“What?”
When Tony moved closer to him, he looked up and blurted, as if he had to get it out before he could convince himself it was too risky, “I was hoping you'd wanna do it again.” Then stood there with a fragile expression like he was just waiting to be rejected.
Oh, so that's why he's being all stuttery and cute, Tony thought. He tried to be cool about it, but he couldn't suppress his smile as he stood over Bruce and put his arms around him, gently pulling him closer. “All I want,” he said, looking into those soft brown eyes, “is to do that again.” He pushed his lips to the lips he had been longing for, holding the kiss only briefly. “And again... and again,” he continued, planting another kiss each time.
Bruce, too stunned to kiss back, just sighed. With relief, rather than passion, Tony thought. But how could he not have known Tony felt the same way? He chuckled, he would have to help him see how desirable he was.
He kissed him again, this time pushing his tongue past Bruce's lips and reaching down to unbutton his purple shirt. And this time, Bruce kissed back but pulled away before it was finished.
“What about the guys?” he said, breathing heavily, meaning Steve and Clint who were still in the living room.
“Fuck 'em.” Tony went and swung the door shut, bringing Bruce with him, not wanting to take his hands off him. He finished unbuttoning the shirt and pulled it off with such desperation he nearly pulled his friend's arm out of joint. “Oh, God, Brucey, you are so sexy I can barely stand living in the same house as you. I've been wanting you all this time.”
“I'm s--”
Tony cut him off with another kiss, which he immediately returned. “And don't you dare say you're sorry, Banner, it's a fucking compliment.”
Bruce moaned and threw his arms around Tony, this time acting as the aggressor himself, as if he'd finally been given permission, kissing him desperately and clawing at his back. Tony pushed his hand through the messy hair, grabbing a handful and tugging, gently but with an urgent passion. “Lay down on the bed,” he whispered as their lips unlocked, not sure what he was going to do next but just saying what he felt in the moment.
Bruce lay down obediently, looking up with expectation and need. There was another side to him that usually remained below the surface, Tony realized as he looked down at those kissable parted lips, the muscular chest heaving with each panting breath – he was usually so cute and endearing, but he could be incredibly sexy, too, as he was now.
“I want you so bad, Tony,” he breathed, sounding like he meant it, like he could barely contain himself.
Tony layed down on top of him, kissing his mouth and his neck, grabbing his hair, and rocking his hips against him. Bruce reached down and started undoing Tony's pants. But suddenly, they both froze.
The door had opened.
“Holy shit, Stark, what the hell are you doing to Banner?” Clint cackled and had to hold himself up on Steve's arm to keep from falling over laughing.
Steve just stared, horrified.
Tony looked down at Bruce. He had a hand over his eyes and looked extremely embarrassed. He decided the only thing to do was to be a smart ass – there was no way to pretend they weren't up to what the guys thought they were up to. “Jeez, guys, don't look so shocked.” He smiled. “I thought you already knew what goes on in this bedroom. Well, you better learn to knock, because this is literally the only reason I ever come in here.”
He sat up and offered a hand to Bruce, who still looked shaken.
“Can we just please pretend we didn't see anything?” said Clint, turning away and shaking his head. “And can you guys not sneak off to fuck while you have company? That's just poor etiquette.”
“Don't worry,” Bruce whispered as he put on his shirt, “we can continue making this good memory tonight. Sleepover in your room, right?”
Tony smiled, amused and pleased to see Brucey take control. Maybe the therapy was helping. Thankfully, bedtime wasn't too far off.
And this time, there were no distractions.