It starts out innocently enough.
(These things always do.)
* * * * *
“Nope. Not moving. Comfortable.”
“Yesbutmyspine…”
“M’not heavy.”
“...Ha.”
“Hey. Are you implying I'm heavy?”
...Well~, Bruce /is/ kind of smushing him into the couch, hutched up against his shoulder as they talk over yet another movie - a ‘Science Bros’ tradition - yet Tony still earns a poke in the ribs.
“No..? Ow! Only as heavy as any guy might be…” Tony stretches his back some, searching for a ‘crick’.
Bruce moves (begrudgingly), and re-adjusts so he's only half splayed over Tony. “There. Wimp.”
“Wasn't say'n it's a bad weight... Just need to..” Click! “...Unnff, that's the spot.”
“Better?” Bruce more or less instantly settles back down on Tony... Yes. He's snuggling with his best friend. Sue him.
“Uh-huh, yup.” Tony mumbles, eyes on the screen; rearranges the other a bit for a better fit, before settling back down into the man-snug-heap for a well earned bout of doing, for lack of a more accurate phrase, absolutely fuck all.
Bruce lets Tony move him around, before settling on top once more, obscuring Tony’s view completely. “Comfortable, sire?”
“Eminently… Pffft. Fine, you win...” Stark gives up on the movie; They weren’t watching it, anyway. He hooks fingers into Bruce's belt-loops as if that's somehow going to stop him from sliding off and away, now that he’s gained from Tony the attention he clearly wants.
“I live to serve, my liege,” Bruce declares. What had they been watching, anyway? King Arthur? Camelot? Something with gleaming monarchs, and wilting maidens. He settles, trying not to think about just how intimate a touch the fingers in the beltloops are.
“Yeah, I'm kinda getting that from the breakfast of kings you provided. No wonder m'all whacked out already,” the claim emphasised by a yawn, hands squeezing Bruce’s hips in tandem with the motion; a typically playful, ‘boundaries-what-are-boundaries?’ Starkism.
Bruce completely fails to silence a /groan/ at the squeeze, and then winces. [/Not/ supposed to groan like that…] “You know me and cooking.”
Stark looks up, smirks amusement at Bruce's little noises. Laughs it off, eases up on his hold. “...Mhm, I do. You may've missed your true calling there, buddy.”
“I think Chef would get pissed if I took over in the kitchen though…”
“S'fair enough. I pay her to take care of all that. Hey, wait…” Tony purses his lips a second. “What exactly do I pay /you/ for?”
“...You don't pay me for anything, Tony…” Duh, Stark.
“I don't...?” Blink-blink. “...Where the hell do you get your income from, then?”
“Doing lectures here and there. Mostly just a drifter honestly. The Other Guy makes it hard to hold down a legit job.”
“There's always demolition...?” Tony flashes wicked eyes; Bruce gives him a /look/. “Okay, not funny. You know I've got your back though... For when you're ‘drifting’.”
“I know you do, Tony. Well, you're letting me mooch off you right now.”
“You're damn good at it, too... Hidden talents, Bruce. One of many, huh?” Tony chuckles, laughter reverberating against the other.
Bruce responds with an affectionate nuzzle to his neck, smiling. “Hey. I do help you sleep after all. That's /huge/, knowing you.”
“Mm.. Yeah, it’s a fair exchange. Lodgings in exchange for my own personal night nurse,” he jokes, and slips a hand upward, to scratch the nape of Bruce's neck following that lovely nuzzling; like one might do a feline, or beloved pup.
“Night nurse...?” Bruce actually /whines/, softly, pressing in even closer.
“You heard me, Doc.” ...Scritch-scritch!
Another whine, there. Soft, but definitely audible. “You're /cheating/ with the skritchies...”
“How'm I cheating? M'not cheating - I'm lovin' on you, Brucey-poo.” Jokey-joke, scritchy-scritch, grinny-grin. “...Y'gonna purr, Bru?”
“No! I’m not going to--” And there's a ‘purr’ when he hits one spot and Bruce, he simply /melts/ against Tony.
“Heheh!, got you~... If I do this, will your leg kick...?” He scritches right under Bruce's jawline, sharp eyes creased with mischief.
“...Nooo~, nononono…”
“‘No’? ‘Nooooo’? Or yeeeees~..?”
“...Or I'm gonna wind up kicking you someplace tender?”
“Hey, hey! You want me stop, I'll stop.” He pauses. Stops. Grins. Just one more tiny scritch...
...Bruce? Bruce ‘retaliates’ (??) by /kissing the side of Tony's neck/.
Wait.
How is that retaliation?...
Tony squints...
And scritches again.
Almost without thinking, Bruce kisses the side of his neck once more. Shiiiiit.
Tony’s train of thought reads something like, ‘Don'tbeasmartassdon'tbeasmartassdon'tbeasmartass’.
Tony doesn’t pay a whole bunch of attention to that particular safety feature, as a rule.
“...Is this, like, an automatic reaction? If I press button A, I get result B?”
There’s a swallow, hard; speech hesitant, almost a stammer. “Y--yeah it is.”
“I've gotta say, it's kinda cute... Considering you were threatening to knee me in the nuts not sixty seconds ago; So fickle.”
“...Th--the threatening was because of an /involuntary/ reaction to skritchies behind the ear.”
“Yeah, so if I do this again...?” Tony skritches softly, just the once, under the jawline again.
Bruce turns his head, and this time he deliberately presses his lips, delicately, to Tony's pulsepoint.
Tony responds with a low ‘hnnn...?’ of a noise, hand sliding up into the soft curls of Bruce’s hair; Surprised, but not disappointed by the other man’s playful turn.
“That… That's what I'd do.” Bruce closes his eyes, lips resting against Tony's neck.
Some vague acknowledging sound comes forth from Stark, sort of a low-pitched grunt, carding Bruce's hair in small comforting motions. Bruce, he really is fucking adorable.
Bruce makes another soft noise in the back of his throat at the carding motion. “...Like that.”
“...Trade you,” Tony says, tone flat, as he continues to brush through the physicist's locks, hoping Bruce caught his meaning. He does. He swallows, hand shifting and brushing his fingers through Tony's hair -- not hesitating, surprisingly.
Tony makes a sound comparable only to that of a giant, contented cat.
“Do I get to see what you'd do if I rubbed, say... Here?” He rubs Tony's jaw in the same place that had him daring floofy kisses.
Which makes the fingers in Bruce's belt loop tug reflexively, followed by a tense little silence, broken only by, “...Bru?”
Another loud, hard swallow follows. “Y--yeah?”
“...Don't stop with the hair thing.” ‘Please’, adds Tony inaudibly in his own mind.
“So. Ah. No more with the jaw thing...?”
“I didn't say that, now did I?” Blink. Blink. Peer.
“No. You didn't. Still haven't seen what your reaction is to my skritching there.” Bruce nuzzles that spot this time.
“I'm thinking it takes more than skritches to get any worthwhile response out of me... Skritching's more your thing, Doc.”
“I'm curious. Guess it's the scientist in me -- what would it take to get a 'worthwhile' response.”
“...Sass masquerading as science! Who'd've thunk it. Hey, I'm an open book; Stroke my hair, push the right buttons... You wanna figure out those buttons in the name of science, I can't say I'm not kinda intrigued, myself.”
“Hmm. A science experiment?” This is such a bad idea on so many levels. But in the end Bruce moves his head just a bit, pressing his lips to Tony’s jaw, then his earlobe, nipping lightly.
“...Nnh~?” Yeah, /that/ does it, that near negligible scrape of teeth. Definite bad idea. But... Feels good. Sue him, every other fucker has already. “That's... Yeah, that... works…”
“Yeah…?” Swallowing, Bruce nips again at Tony’s earlobe, half straddling his thigh.
“Uh...hnn...?” Fingers curl, scraping against nape, and waistband, thumb still firmly in that beltloop. Something... Very surprising, desperately unfamiliar about Bruce doing the... Well, the work. If anyone was likely to be handsy, it was Tony, but this little... experimental detour... well, it's quite enough to knock the breath from Stark's lungs.
“...Brucccce~.”
“I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… ah…” Bruce breathes, kissing along Tony’s jaw. This is the stupidest thing he’s ever done — gamma experimentation included. And yet he can’t help himself. He wants these kisses — he /craves/ them. Maybe even needs them... “D--do I need to stop?”
“/Don't/...!”
Ngh. Tony's pupils are kinda blown out, and his heart's kind of erratic, and his palms are damp, and his lips are humming, and... And this all very weird, but it's just them? Just them, messing around? No harm done? “...Oh~. But this is /fun/,” Tony croaks his words, forcing a smoother, more jovial tone. “Don'tcha think? What do we always say... ‘For science’?” And he can barely believe his own behaviour then, closing his eyes, exhaling a vibrating pound that wracks the arc between them.
“N…nothing ventured…” Bruce /knows/ he’s a fool for trying this, but he does it anyway. “One last place to try. See your reaction. It is for science after all... His voice is a bit weak before he brushes his lips against Tony’s. Waiting to be, possibly, punched.
Tony's lashes flutter downward, however, about the same moment Bruce, in the name of science (how?), ...nnh~. Soft, so soft. Softer than he'd been expecting. Not that he'd thought about it. Ever. Repeatedly. Just out of curiosity. Normal really, especially when you spend so much time together... When you wake in the night and that damnable freakish glow emanating from your chest highlights the curves and contours of his sleeping face... Him, /Bruce/, Tony's best friend. Yeah... Much softer than he'd imagined. Sweet, and... Was Bruce shaking? Or was that Tony? /Shit/. Tilting his chin upward, he responds with the merest responding press, lips parting just so... Taking Bruce's bottom lip in, between his teeth, for the lightest nip. Playful, teasing, amorous... All that Tony is. Including being a total bastard - for he pulls back, eyes practically freaking glittering, to simply say:
“...What, no tongues?”
They’ve had one kiss before this but somehow this one feels different. Maybe it only is to Bruce. It’s hard to say when you’ve been carrying a torch for your best friend for so long. When you’ve been sleeping together and cuddling and all those things that you usually don’t have with friends. But Bruce needs Tony and wants him no matter what the cost. To him. Or anything. The nip draws a longer groan and Tony moves more astride him. “No tongues..? You need only ask.” He’s trying not to think too much, because if he does, he’ll move off Tony and run back to India. Permanently. So he cups Tony’s face with his hands and kisses him… This time this kiss is hard and deep and /does/ include tongue.
And Tony says, “…!”
And Bruce asks, “…?”
And Tony answers, “Better than I was expecting...?”
And Bruce is swallowing his nerves down, tone approaching conversational when he asks, “To… the point of liking it?”
“Well... You know what? You should do it again, to make sure. Testing, and all. Repeatable results; You know the drill, Doctor.”
“You’re certain you’re ready for a repeat performance?”
“Seriously? Just…” And Tony just closes the gap between them so /quickly/ with a murmuring grunt - lips parted, tongue coaxing, inviting...
Bruce’s arms snake around Tony’s neck and his lips part instantly. No coaxing needed. He wants these kisses too badly.
There really is no time to consider how seriously weird the act of playing tonsil tennis with your best friend is when he's pressing down on top of you with such an unfamiliar weight, a good weight - and it's... Okay, let’s be real here. It’s kind of difficult to forget that Bruce is a guy. And Tony simply doesn't do this with guys. Like, at all… Ever. But. But? Whatever. Because tongue and teeth and /hungry/.
Bruce, he doesn’t care and he doesn’t think at all. Because if he does, he’d pull away. Because he is /gay/ (so gay) and he knows his best friend is straight (as an arrow). And if he thinks about this he’ll pull away and never kiss him again. And he wants these kisses. God. He traces lips and teeth and tongue and just settles atop Tony, not wanting to move for anything.
“Mmm~.” Tony hums like he's just tasted the richest roast coffee after an age without a hit. There's something fun and playful and ‘what the hell’-esque about this - or perhaps that's just Tony, because why would Bruce even play along? Sure, "for science". Tony is an incorrigible flirt, nothing new there, but Bruce...? Bruce is, actually, a helluva lot sassier than people had much of a clue about, him being such a private person - legendarily so. Tony kind of felt like that particular aspect of Bruce was his little secret... And, weirdly, this was kind of the same, maybe? Like it was nice being kissed like /that/? Like, /being/ kissed? And hard, too. Nn.. Bruce slips his arms round Tony's neck and the softness of his lips and the warmth of his mouth and deftness of his tongue is just... Good. Like, /really/ good. Tony murrs, making a gravelly noise, coming up for air with reluctance - then licking his way back into the other's mouth...
Bruce loses track of who starts each kiss. All that matters is he’s kissing Tony and Tony is kissing him back and the way their bodies are pressed against each other. He needs his engineer and now that he has him in this intimate hold, he never wants to let him go. When one kiss breaks, he takes in a shuddering breath then nibbles along Tony’s jaw. He knows this cannot last, but God he /wants it/. He wants this man. Even if it kills him.
“No, yeah, made up my mind. Definitely, yeah. N'that works too, while we’re on topic…” Automatically Tony babbles in that non-stop smartass way he's allowed to define his character, dimly remembering that there was an origin point for this game. Which he can't recall. Uh. Still, he's got one hand gently curled in the physicist's hair, the other set upon the curve of his lower back. That one remains very, very still, being perilously close to where one might be tempted to roam to... Hah. Hair stroking ensues, and ohhh~. /Oh/, okay. Nibbling along the jawline, that's nice, that's /very/ nice, and it elicits a squirm from Stark that says as much.
“Look,” the word comes breathlessly, a tiny laugh punctuating. “I’ve found one of your spots, it seems.” Another nibble along the other’s stubbly jaw follows, perhaps with an unconscious rock of his hips for measure.
“Y..Yeah, looks like that.” Tony licks over his lips, the taste of Bruce still on them... And... “Nnh~.. ahh!” He kicks out one leg, just like a dog being scratched in the right spot as they'd earlier discussed, hoping it's as hilarious as it seemed to be in the conceptual phase.
Of course, Bruce chuckles in spite of himself at Tony’s reaction, then kisses him again. Quick this time; just a fast press of lips ending with a nuzzle. “But was that because of my teeth — or that movement of my hips by accident…?”
God, he’s always so frank, his language methodical, to the point. No superfluous drivel like Tony.
“Heh, heh, ehh.. Nnnh~.” Stark mutters. “Yeah, ‘accident’ my ass. Bit of both, maybe? The nibbling thing though, that's definitely a spot. Way to go, investigative science...!”
Bruce mutters something along the lines of it was an accident and he’d know it if it wasn’t. Still, he takes his lips and teeth back to that spot and lightly worries his teeth against skin, making a light mark there before soothing the skin with his tongue. “How…how about that…?”
Affirmation comes by way of a brief, low murmur and an involuntary curling of fingers - there's no room for mistaking whether or not that that 'thing' was acceptable... Tony moves beneath Bruce like he's catching fire, with a sudden little panting breath... Followed by a weirdly un-Tonyish self-conscious laugh, head tipping back with a groan. “...Breaking me, man.”
Bruce licks along Tony’s neck, memorizing every little plane and valley. He knows this will be the one time this happens. He adds a little nibble at one point before moving his head to find Tony’s lips once more.
As Bruce does /things/ - warm, damp, gorgeous things to his neck, Tony feels just a teensy bit dizzy, blood pooling in his ears from tipping back at an angle, blinking hard. He's about to say something incoherent when Bruce covers his lips again with his own and... Hnngh~, what even is? This is getting silly: His heart keeps thumping like it's trying to get out of his chest, and his hands are once again slick with perspiration... He shouldn't react so dramatically to what is in essence just messing around with a friend - his /closest/ friend. But... Yeah, again, whatever. Shut up brain. He just wants Bruce to keep kissing him, and nibbling at him, and... Ngh~. Things you don't do with your friend who's a guy and... Screw it, he growls and grips and kisses and /bites/ and who knows where this is coming from?.. This tension being released like a tidal wave.
“Oh /God/,” Bruce’s breath comes out in a gasp as Tony’s hands turn more sure and hold him tighter. Hands that stroke and grope as he responds in kind with another rock of his hips. He has one chance and he’ll take that chance now. He kisses the man, for all he’s worth. One hand slips under the hem of Tony’s shirt to press against warm skin at long last.
...Nnhgh! Predictably, the muscles of Tony's abdomen tense with the startling presence of palm sneaking under the hem of his shirt - oh~, /nice/... He twists a bit, arching further into Bruce, his own hands losing their impetus then, just /waiting/ for hands to explore.
Bruce /burns/ him where the contact is made.
And the longer this dalliance continues, the more curious the engineer becomes -- all in the name of science. Always a joke to hide the vulnerability, the unknown. Damn it though if his friend didn't mean that rock of hips, lying bastard.
“Nhm~. Bruce. Dothatagain.”
Whatever he just did, he repeats at Tony’s request. He knows there’s the whole ‘for science’ thing and if they keep hiding behind that, then maybe curling up together to sleep won’t be awkward. And maybe they can keep making out like this too. He lets his hands roam a bit under the shirt while his tongue maps out Tony’s mouth with a low groan. His hips rock on their own accord, no tangible thought at play. His fingers lightly score Tony’s abdomen with a soft sigh of speech, “...Wantyouohgod.”
“Hn. You... Really? Thought I was maybe reading the signs wrong, so hard to tell... Nnh? ah~.” Tony swallows his sarcasm down sharply, blinking hard as if trying to clear his vision; Checking reality out. Damn, he really does feel woozy, JARVIS up the AC already... Ngh~? Bruce is brushing soft, gentle fingertips over his abdomen - so unlike his own calloused, scarred, permanently grease-stained hands - and Tony inhales suddenly with a weird questioning "erk?" sound, heart pounding in his chest as sweat prickles all over him--and Bruce is /right on top of him/, the weight of him, the scent of him, the /feel/ of him... It's all amazing and terrifying and fun and crazy and somehow in all of this pants have become an encumberance and… Ngh, Tony /wants/, but he isn't exactly sure what - though there's something specifically fascinating about his mild-mannered physicist (ha!) /taking the lead/, just kind of... hypnotic? Like Tony might just melt into the couch and die of anticipation (or frustration) if the other will just keep touching, moving against him like that.
“...Hnn.” He croaks, voice gravelly with fear and humor and an inexplicable lust. “What... What d'you want? Exactly... Specifics. Details. Tell me... Nhgh~.”
“Weren’t supposed to notice, comes the mumbled reply, Bruce’s face tipped away. It’s a confession that really isn’t one at all, because he knows how obvious he’s been, especially these past few weeks with Tony. But he liked when Tony stayed clueless. He doesn’t want their friendship to change. But it has, hasn’t it? Because ‘just friends’ don’t sleep curled around each other, or make out like they do. Bruce flushes a bit, knowing he has to say something but doesn’t know how to give voice to his wants. He doesn’t know how to give Tony the gory details. That he wants a relationship. That he wants to still screw around in the lab and tell him when his equations are off or go out for dinner or watch a movie that ends in a popcorn fight and tickling. That he just wants Tony for all of it. The good and the bad. But he’s afraid to ask. To give voice. Because Tony is straight. So he just shakes his head slightly.
“Tony… details? I...” Another breath. The fear of rejection courses through him. He knows that, if necessary, he can go back to how they once were. He knows he can swallow want and lust and desire. But what will Tony do? Will /Tony/ be able to get past this, if he doesn’t like what Bruce has to say? “...I don’t want to fuck things up between us. But I’m afraid I have. I want /you/. In bed and out of it. More than friends and lab partners.” A rock of his hips, follows, voice dropping low. “...This. You.”
And Stark's mouth goes completely dry.
That... Those were details, yep. That's what he'd asked for... Not what he'd expected, though. Not even remotely. He'd been expecting Bruce - if anything at all - to focus on the physical, like Stark had been... Something innocent and powerful all at once, the exploration of something entirely new to him - to kiss or touch or /want/ a guy in /any/ way providing a baseline for his mental processing in this moment. Somehow this messing around held for him the excitement of a very first kiss - and with it the knowledge that this was something new, and that you were no longer ignorant of it. So... So Bruce speaks this low, humbling honesty - a genuine confession, and Tony lays there beneath him flushed like a beet - Bruce, /his/ Bruce, bestest of friends, lab partner, team-mate, Fooler-About-In-Chief... Eyes fixed wide, heat staining his cheeks like a freaking beacon for cluelessness, and... He of the Retorts and Slickness and Endless Witticisms... is speechless.
Eventually Tony swallows, seeking some moisture with which to coax words into being, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat like something from a cartoon... Stark doesn't look startled per se, just... Hopelessly inadequate for the task of pursuing any measured response beyond fisting the physicist’s hair, bringing lips crashing down to meet his in a kiss almost bruising in its intensity.
Words could wait.
The longer Tony’s silent, the more Bruce realizes he shouldn’t have made that tiny bit of a confession. He’s thrown Tony off his game or maybe even off in general. That his request of what he wants isn’t something he’s allowed to have. It changes part of their dynamic. Though didn’t someone once say that a lover should be your best friend? Well that describes the man beneath him. The one who he sleeps with at night, and when he’s gone the sandman is hard to find. Bruce is close to laughing this whole thing off. That his ‘true want’ was a little joke and he didn’t really mean it. That is, until Tony’s hands fist in his hair and his breath escapes in a woosh as he’s kissed. It isn’t an answer. Far from one, really. But it’s a start at the very least. He parts his lips almost instantly, letting Tony have full control and command of the kiss. His own hands cup Tony’s face as he finds a better angle for their mouths, completely giving himself over to his engineer.
Once and for all.
So.
Kissing turns out to be an awesome strategy to avoid talking -- but that's hardly a new discovery for Tony Stark, is it? Eventually it's got to stop though, 'cause he can't actually breathe like this, and his lips are getting swollen and his tongue is threatening to actually detach itself... Jesus, cool the fuck down, Tony. So, yeah, eventually Tony pulls away for air, eyes closed... Scared for what look may be on his friend's face... Um. He loosens his grasp on Bruce's locks, kind of smoothing his hair a little, like an apology in case he'd been too forceful... Finally he blinks himself back into reality - expression weird, very un-Tony - basically uncertain; His brows a little drawn together, his cheeks stained red, eyes wide, and the faintest hint of an apologetic smile that says ‘I have no idea what I'm doing. Please, please don't hate me’. One hand drops back onto the couch alongside his head, but the other remains, dull fingernails scraping faintly at the downy line of hair running the rear of Bruce's neck - soft, and tender, even.
“...Um.”
Bruce knows he could stay here like this and just keep kissing Tony for as long as the other man will let him stay here. Even when they break for air, Bruce dives back in for another kiss. Because he doesn't know how long this will last. He doesn't know when Tony will come to his senses. And he's afraid it'll be far too soon.
When the kiss finally breaks, he leans into that gentle touch. “I, ah… Hi?” There's no judgement on Bruce's face. If anything, there's a hint of fear -- fear of rejection. Because he knows Tony doesn't do this. He's afraid Tony will laugh it off and they'll have a falling out or-- or Tony will think he's a fruit and just needs to stay away from him.
“Mm... So this is diff'rent, huh..?” It's not /really/ a question that Tony murmurs, taking his time in this opportunity to take a closer look at Bruce... at hues, and tones, and lines, all the tiny details that make up /Bruce/. He's got laugh lines already - why hadn't he noticed that before?
Tony hopes that he contributed to those creases in some tiny way.
Bruce nods, just a bit. “Yeah... this is pretty different. Is... is it a good or a bad different, though?” The fear hasn't quite left his eyes. It's lurking deep in the recesses. Waiting for the moment he's dumped unceremoniously to the floor.
“...'Fun' different.” Tony brushes a lock of hair behind Bruce's ear, then pauses. “...Right?”
“It... it is for me. But for you...?”
“...Yeah? I mean, you know, why not...? Ah. I like it, yeah. Um.” Jesus. Tony tries out an actual nervous smile.
Bruce’s own smile is shaky as hell, as he looks down at the other man “...Really?”
“...You taste good.”
Bruce chuckles. “I... taste good?”
“Mhm, yeah. Problem?”
Bruce shakes his head. “Nnno~. Not a problem. Just not what I was expecting.” Another break of a pause follows. “Are... you okay with this?”
“With...? Mm. No need to make a big deal... We're just /us/. This just happens to be... weirdly fun. Don't sweat it?”
Bruce’s voice comes softer, now. “This… is a big deal for me, Tony. I’ve, in essence, seduced my best friend. When I said I want you… I /meant/ it.”
“...” Tony opens his mouth to jokingly respond, but notes the look in Bruce's eye, before his tongue can sabotage itself, and falls silent again, thinking. He proceeds to carefully brush his thumb over Bruce's lower lip, letting it rest there. Eyes bright with what can only be described as a mix of affection and amusement.
"’Seduced’"? Wow, and I thought /I/ had an ego. I'd hardly describe a round of tonsil tennis as a 'seduction'. Lighten up, Banner…” Mm, skirting over that ‘I want you’. 'Cause what does that actually mean? 'Cause... This is good, Tony thinks, what they've got, and how they are. Bruce /has/ got him... Right?
Bruce kisses that thumb briefly, then sits up and moves off Tony so that he can think. Even if it doesn't feel right to not have that warmth beneath him. He closes his eyes, putting his head in his hands with a small sigh. He knows Tony skipped over part of what he said. And, truthfully, he isn't too surprised by that. But still. It's a conversation they need to have but is one he isn't looking forward to having. “It's a lot of things, Tony. It's not just... this makeout session.” His voice is muffled by his hands, voice heavy, a teensy bit strained even. “It's... the bed sharing. And the cuddles. And the knowing I need you close... /Fuck/.” He just shakes his head, then. “I'm being stupid. I don't want things to change, or foul up between us. But at the same time… /shit/.”
Tony hitches himself upright to sit, almost wedged into the couch corner. “I hadn't really thought about... Like, if things were getting weird, or whatever, 'cause it's just... /Us/. I mean, fine, okay, I'm touchy-feely. And you don't seem to have a problem with that. And I'm just, I dunno, I'm not worrying 'cause there's things we do that I wouldn't dream of doing with another… [guy?] friend. 'Cause we're different. And I was kind of just hoping you'd be okay with that, and not freak out, so... I don't really know what to say. I just, you're my partner in crime, and I just... Mh.” And he deflates a bit, whistling long and low.
Bruce doesn't even /look/ at Tony. He can't. Because if he does, he'll lose his nerve. “I'm... not freaking out, Tony.” There’s a silence, punctuated by that swallowing sound again. “...Tony, I'm falling for you.”
“...” Oh. Tony just... blinks, and watches Bruce for the longest, longest time. Well, probably only about ten seconds, but you know how these things feel. “You're kidding me, right?” He grins a little, a media shot, all teeth... and lets it falter, smile dropping to reveal concern, and a vaguely dizzy expression of puzzlement. “.../Oh/.” And, after some further thought, “.../Wow/.”
Bruce shakes his head, tone solemn. “I wouldn't kid about this. It's taken this long to get up the courage to confess. And I hope I didn't just make a big mistake by admitting this. Why wouldn't someone be attracted to you? You're brilliant and funny and loyal and…”
“I know, I'm spectacular. I'm... thinking you've been cooped up with me for so long... Stockholm Syndrome, because ultimately you /know/ I'm an asshole, and I'll fuck anything that moves, and so on and so forth and... Bare with me, I'm struggling with the concept of, you know, like, dealing with the fact that you taste good and I haven't actually done anything like... /that/ since college, and even then I was smacked out of my mind. Uhm. Just. Let's be cool. And I'm talking shit and you're actually being /genuine/, and…” And Tony is a complete /moron/, and he knows this, and he shuffles over to Bruce, and draws him into this huge hug, like he would if Bruce was confessing he was falling in love with /anyone at all/, because Bruce is his /best friend/ and he /loves/ him, and he can't stand the idea of his shy, brilliant physicist feeling anything but needed, and loved. Even if Tony says all the wrong words, even if he honestly doesn't know /what/ to think, he /can/ comfort Bruce. That’s what he tells himself, anyways.
“It isn't Stockholm Syndrome. I've been warring with myself if I should say anything at all. Maybe I shouldn't have. I don't know. It came out and that's that.” Heh, came out. Literally. “And I know you haven't done anything like this before. I know that. But you're not an asshole, Tony. Far from it.” Though he probably shouldn't, he still curls against the other man with a small sigh. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. It's going to change things between us. And on one hand, yeah I'd like to explore a few things... but at the same time. I don't know if it's something you want. If you want this. Me.”
“Oh, man... /Bruce/.” Tony holds the other man as gently as he can, fingers trailing the expanse of his back, petting, attempting to reassure in touch, should words fall short. “I guess it's good to be honest? Open? I mean, I share all my deep dark shit with you, whether you want it or not... You're a good'un, Bru. The very best. And just... Just don't worry about stuff? I don't know how I'd be without you. I wouldn't want to be. Just... Bear with me, I'll bear with you? I'm... Ah. I have no idea where I'm going with this, but I'm faintly concerned you're gonna disappear or something if I don't fulfil some kind of fairytale prophecy, and you really ought to know by now that I am just /shit/ at doing what anyone else actually /wants/.”
“...It's good to be open, sure. But it's a bit different when someone confesses he's falling for you. And he wants you. Isn’t it?” Still, he stays curled against Tony's side. He knows he should get up and move, but he can't bring himself to leave. Tony's warm and comfortable… and that's where this whole thing started, isn't it? Nights curled around each other and little touches and affectionate kisses. “Tony… it's not you doing what I want. It's never been about that. It's… It's about what I want coupled with what you want. I'm not going to disappear. Not unless you want me to go. But… now you know how I feel about you. Friends, of course… but maybe something more… eventually. If you want me that way. If not... I'll deal. Like I always have.” Right there, there’s a tiny Banner-shrug before Tony’s talking shit again.
“I've... got half a mind to take you down to the lab and check you over for anything squonky, honestly. But... Jesus, man. I didn't... Am I just totally oblivious, or what.” Not really a question. Really? He's ashamed. Because sexuality aside, Bruce deserves to be falling for someone /far/ better than him. “Can we... like, talk about this again? I don't mean I want to shut you down, I mean this seems like something to maybe... um. Not just sweep under the carpet?” He draws back, then. Nudges Bruce's temple with his nose. “I don't know if you can tell, but I'm a little... Confused right now. And honestly? I don't want to... Jesus, how do I say this... Take /advantage/ of whatever feelings you may have deluded yourself into believing you have (I'm still not convinced you aren't high right now). 'Cause I'm like, I like the "more" stuff of us? I like just letting it roll, seeing what happens? God... I'm trying to say that I care too much about you to use in some experiment in the sudden gayness, or whatever that is, heh. But seriously, I can't be here wishing you'd just shut up and pin me while your heart is aching…” Oh. Dry mouth. Just say it, Stark. “You're better than that. I've /always/ been an advocate of friends with benefits, but I just... If I don't stop myself, I don't know that I can be trusted. Not to be a total dick. Because fidelity eww!, and I'm not actively looking to pursue a relationshi--... Mm. I just... Are you okay, babe?”
“Mm...” Bruce’s face falls a bit when Tony keeps saying that there's something wrong with him or that he must be high. He knows he isn't, and it hurts. There's nothing wrong with him, other than the fact that he did the one thing you're not supposed to do: fall in love with your best friend. “Yeah, it probably is something we shouldn't just sweep under the carpet. Though it might be safer if we did. Saner. One of the two.” He sighs again, closing his eyes at the little bump-nuzzle. “Tony, you're not taking advantage of anything. You asked me what I meant, you asked for details. I'm giving them to you… for better or for worse. Maybe part of me does want to just pin you. But I also know you haven't… fooled around with a man before outside of whatever you did in college, and what we've done together. I'll be fine, Tony. I always am. I'm sorry I said anything. Probably shouldn't have. But I guess… for once in my life I thought I'd make a grab for someone I wanted.” Pause. Heavy. Long. “If you don't want me to come join you in the penthouse tonight -- I'll understand.”
“/Please/~,” nuzzle-nudge goes the Tony. Little motions, friendly voice. Upbeat and safe, oh so safe. “.../Don't/ be sorry. Half the reason I keep you around is the honesty you give me. I can trust in that, and... I don't trust in much, you know that. The other half of why I keep you around is you rectifying my equations and me being able to palm them off as my own. Heh.
See, I /need/ to know what you're thinking, it's not even debatable as a point, okay? Bruce? I... Don't want to be alone. Not tonight.”
“Well, I was honest with you. I'm still not sure if that was a smart thing or not at this point. Still debating to be perfectly honest. Heh. Honesty, hm? Still,” he leans against Tony, needing the man's warmth and his support for a bit to bolster himself. “You still want to know what I'm thinking when saying it makes it awkward? That I'd be happy to spend a week in bed with you?” He slips his fingers into Tony's hand, and squeezes gently, adding, “I'll stay here as long as you'll have me. I'll sleep beside you, if that's where you want me to be.”
Oh~. Hoho. While we're on the topic of honesty, Tony's heart lurches when Bruce says something about spending a week in bed with him. 'Cause it's startling to hear him /say/ something like that, and Tony's cheeks flush with a fresh hum of warmth, tips of his ears burning. “...Did we have plans at all, before the, ah, stuff?”
“...Before what 'stuff'...?” Hmm. Bruce’s voice is so cautious right now, he feels like he's walking on egg shells.
“The feeling-up-your-ass stuff.” Yep, poetic as always. To the point, though. Can't be faulted for that.
Bruce merely shakes his head. “No, no plans that I really know of. Why....?”
Tony shrugs, keeping his hand held about Bruce's fingers, stroking with a thumb. “Just checking; Attempting to be conscientious.”
Bruce smiles a little, squeezes Tony's hand. “I appreciate it. No... I really don't have any plans for a bit,” and he kinda leans against the other.
Tony takes Bruce's weight, inviting it really, with a little pressure pushing back. “D'you wanna... hang out? The usual?”
Bruce nods slowly, words spoken carefully. “...I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.”
“...See. Not weird at all. JARV, queue up Star Trek: ToS.”
“A couple of days on the couch watching ToS? I... think that would... be okay.” Bruce’s kiss-flushed lips quirk just the tiniest bit.
“Uh-huh. And... Don't be afraid to coax me into sunlight. Or leave me to my own devices, either, whatever you want. Y'know, I'm just saying.”
“Sunlight maybe. But you did ask specifically that I not leave you alone -- and that one I'm okay with. I don't mind.”
“...Too good to me,” comes the automatic response; Tony touching his own mouth absently, feeling for the ghost of kisses too soon at an end.
Bruce gives a sheepish smile, curling up a bit alongside Tony. “You must've missed that whole... /thing/ I said earlier.”
“Eh… To be fair, I wasn't really listening -- kinda caught up in the buzz in my pants,” Tony deadpans, and waits to be ‘Hulked Out’ on...
Bruce? Bruce just /stares/. To which Tony offers a winning smile... [Yes? No?]
Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Teasing is one thing, but teasing about something it’s taken him this long to confess…?
“...What?!” Tony I'm telling you I'm all with the hot and bothered, Jesus Christ!” Aw, hell. He’s upset Bruce, already. Well done, you asshole... “Shit, don't.. do that…” Tony’s tone wilts.
“Tony... I didn't even know what you-- Wait.” Bruce blinks... and looks directly at Tony. “Wait. You're ‘hot and bothered’?”
“...No, my pants are suddenly tight 'cause of all the lab takeout we’ve been murdering... You're even more dense than I am, Banner.”
“Well…” suddenly Bruce is spluttering, “..how am I supposed to know!?” He throws up one of his hands, adding, “/I'm/ the professed gay one in the room, after all. Me.”
“Mh,” Tony mumbles. “...Gay best friend quota met - fashionable cityboy, level up! ...Jesus, I just like making out with you... I enjoy it. Big deal… As much of a teenager as that makes me sound... Ohmy/god/.”
After a beat, Bruce chuckles. “Good. Because I don't care if that makes me sound like a teenager back, because I like making out with you too and, ah... I don't care if I suddenly sound desperate. I… wouldn't mind if you wanted to ‘experiment’. With me.” And then he’s wincing. “...I sound desperate. I know I do. But... I'd rather fool around then... watch you go after some other guy.” Insert epic hives-esque blush staining Banner’s poor face.
“.../Bruce/, I'm not having a sudden queer revelation.” Tony snorts, but then his features twist to a serious frown of an expression. “I mean, /really/. I have absolutely zero intention of having a (near) midlife sexuality crisis. This is just... something between us... I don't know what the hell's going on, but I didn't wake up today and think, ‘gee, I wonder what guy ass is like!’, y’know.”
“I... I didn't mean…” Oh, /crap/. Bruce’s shoulders slump, and he barely mutters, “I'vefuckedallthisupshould'vekeptmymouthshut…”
“Ohforfuck'ssakeBru--” Tony, in essence, hurls himself at Bruce, deciding to shut him up before he can bemoan his honesty any further; And Tony's planting his mouth on Bruce's, grasping at the collar of his shirt, shutting him up, if only for a moment...
...And now who's confused? Bruce is /beyond/ confused right now, hands on Tony's hips and returning the kiss -- possibly against his better judgement.
[Mhrr~.] When Bruce grips his hips, Tony /growls/, but in a good way, in a ‘give me more’ way... His hands are just so /strong/, not even intentionally, and... Uhn. Wait. Stop. /Think/. He has Bruce's lower lip trapped, and he worries it between perfect celebrity teeth, followed by a little kiss to the corner of his mouth. “...Stop apologizing, damnit.”
Bruce whines low in his throat, from the kiss on the corner of his mouth, to the nibbling on his lip... “Can'thelpit. Couldvefuckedup.”
“Mm~, no. You haven't, and you know you haven't. Even if I'm failing to articulate myself somewhat... with words.”
Bruce, with fledgling confidence, brushes his fingers through Tony's hair, his touch lingering. “You are a bit... but it's okay. I... threw a lot at you today.”
“I don't think guys like us should ever expect uneventful, yanno…” He shrugs, falls silent; Fusses with Bruce's fingers.
“Maybe sometimes it’s good to want uneventful. Even for a little while.” Bruce stares fixedly down at their intertwined hands.
“Mm, yeah. That's what I like about us... No drama.”
Bruce simply raises a brow.
“...OhmygodwhatdidIsaynow”.
At that, Bruce laughs softly, squeezing the other’s hand. “You didn't say anything, Tony. I was only implying that I gave us a bit of drama…”
“Pshhh, it's all relative. There's drama, and there's I-can't-hear-myself-for-screaming and it's-me-doing-the-screaming drama.”
“Well, let's just keep it from turning into the last two, shall we?”
“Hah,” Tony speaks the sound humorlessly. “I've got a pretty good handle on when it's time to bail. You live, you learn?”
That earns a tight squeeze to Tony’s hand. “No bailing. I'd track you down.”
“Hm... That probably wasn’t intended to sound quite as terrifying as it played out in my mind...”
“To the ends of the earth,” following which an imitation of a Hulk-esque growl sounds.
Contrarily, Stark offers a sudden, bright, overly-keen (borderline creepy?) smile.
“...And people say /I'm/ scary.”
“No, they say the Other Guy is scary. They don't say one bad thing about /you/.”
“Hm~. Maybe I should change that?”
Stark’s eyes narrow just a smidge, a silent skepticism evident.
“Or.... not...?”
“Don't wait for me to answer your questions. I'm a lot of things, but I'm no oracle.” Tony smirks some.
“...I could shake you like a Magic 8-Ball; See what happens?”
“So I'm thinking my version of playing rough might differ juuust slightly from yours…”
Heh. That draws another chuckle from the physicist. “...So what's your version?”
“I... Don't know. Maybe. Ah…” Tony suddenly rubs the rear of his neck, seemingly uncertain; Maybe a nerve touched somehow? “...Um.”
Bruce’s voice changes completely, much softer. “Hey-hey. It's okay. Tell me, please?”
Tony shrugs. “...No, really nothing. I just, I can't really... No, I might actually die... Ah, hell… But. Ilikeitwhenyou… /growl/?”
Bruce blushes /just/ a tiny bit at that. “So the tickling... is that a sign of things to come...?”
“ .....” Again, Stark fails completely at articulation. Because he doesn't know what he wants, but it definitely involves Bruce being close against him, like he's become accustomed to experiencing on a near daily basis. [You're so damn touchy-feely, Stark.]
“Bruce.. Just... You're just talking to your friend here, and I just, I'd be wondering this anyway 'cause I'm a nosey bastard who doesn't know where to draw the line of inappropriacy... What... /How/ are you, like, in... With?” Dumb, blank stare. Yep. “...With other people. I mean... you know what I mean, right? Pleasegodhavemercy.”
Bruce... swallows hard, and stares at Tony, directly. Not to make the other man more uncomfortable but because he's trying so very hard to process this right now. Because they went from cuddling to Bruce finally confessing his feelings to a bit of awkwardness to talking about... the bedroom? “Do you mean.... in bed?” His voice is barely above a whisper, his cheeks burning.
“...Shit. I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead, 'cause your face right now, and it's... Not fair of me to ask... I was just... With the growling thing, and my mind is like, pretty one-track apart from the background processes, so…” Yeah, Bruce - that's exactly what he meant. And it's too far. And where the hell does Tony get the idea he can just casually bring things like that up, especially now?
Bruce shakes his head, an abrupt motion. “The look on my face bedamned. You asked. We said honesty between us. Ask, Tony.”
[Fine.] He shrugs, goes right ahead and asks. “...Well? Do you pitch, or catch? Does it... Change? Depending? On... stuff?”
It takes a minute for Bruce to answer, to form syllables. “It depends. But, yes, I... switch. It's been... a long time, though.”
“...Mm. Yeah, I know. 'Cause you mentioned a while back, about not... Hm. I didn't actually mean to ask that. Just curiosity.”
“Well,” Bruce begins, softly, “if I was a bit braver, I'd ask what you experimented with in college…”
“Uh, barely negligible, in the scheme of things. Like, I'd party with a few people? I.. I've never had sex with a guy. At all… Which I'm guessing is no great surprise? Or? I just, never... You know, wanted to. So. And I love the ladies.” Another little shrug. Tony’s shoulders are going to need replacing at this rate.
“No, no great surprise…” Bruce shakes his head, though he doesn't release Tony's hand throughout the conversation. “And yeah, aware you love the ladies.” Which is why he wonders what /is/ he doing here with Tony? Someone who is his type. Someone who is… not him.
“So, ah... I'm gonna take a shower. Cold one. Clear my head. If at all possible.” Tony shifts, a sudden movement, making to pull away from Bruce. “...Sorry for the weird questions.”
Bruce releases Tony’s hand, folding his own carefully in his lap. “Of course. Do… whatever you need to do.”
So Tony slips off for a shower, not as a way of escaping, but to give himself the time to calm down, quit scrambling his thoughts up, quit wondering dumb things, and asking even dumber questions. And try to attempt processing the concept that his best friend thinks he may be falling for him.
/Him/.
Of all the people in the world (and a couple others they know of) Bruce really did know how to pick 'em.
And Tony... Doesn't know how to feel about it, but... It's not freaking him out.
And Bruce? He’s curled up somewhere in the Tower with a book, trying to convince himself that the last few hours didn’t happen. That he didn’t just /come out to Tony/ and, not only that, didn’t just confess his feelings for the engineer. He idly turns the pages, resolving to stay away from Tony for a little bit. He’s already made it awkward. No need to make it any worse…
* * * * *
Tony has the longest shower within living memory, mostly spent standing around getting blasted with borderline uncomfortable heat, just… thinking. Mind wandering. Stretches of blank (but not really, because this is /Tony Stark/ we're talking about here). By the time he's finished privately rambling, umm-ing and ah-ing, he resembles a sort of bioengineered man-prune hybrid. He goes to check on things across the workshop - system upgrades: JARVIS reports everything is melding smoothly. Down to the lab to play with some blood samples obtained from Loki, always fun watching bits of him squirm, even at a microscopic level. He checks in on an employee down in the garage, spending some time stripping old StarkTech down to basic components with her, talking about nothing in particular.
Eventually, Tony's alone again, just him and Dum-E, doodling schematics.
Thinking.
[’More than friends and lab partners.’]