Bruce Banner is a man that's fairly honest with himself, he likes to think. He's self aware that as much as he's got far too many PhD’s, he's a little lacking in the common sense department, but he thinks that's probably fine. He's also aware that when he likes things, he tends to like them a little bit too much, and it turns into an all out obsession.
Which is how he had found himself registering for an account on a fanfiction website, under the name of ‘SuperSerumScientist’. It's not the most discreet, but he finds he doesn't particularly care. It's a silly name but everything he's doing on the website is a bit silly. Still, he finds himself writing for hours a week to write and post stories. Which would be fine, but well. He's a little embarrassed to be writing stories in which he, or the reader, is dating Captain America.
It's ridiculous, really, and more than a little bit shameful. He knows that Jen would give him all sorts of looks if she knew, that his dad would call him some awful name. He doesn't care. It's fun. Bruce has fun, writing stories for himself. When he gets a nice comment, it's like a little bonus.
It starts out as just oneshots, little scenarios and stories that he can't think out a longer plot for, but eventually, it's something more. It turns into tens of thousands of words in individual little stories, to hundred or more thousand long sagas.
All of that and he's still working full time in the lab to recreate the serum, still finding the time to go out with friends and have a nice time. To have a life. Bruce is slightly impressed with himself, though it's not an achievement he can really share. Writing thousands of words of fanfiction a week is not something most grown adult men brag about, nor is it something they even do. But Bruce enjoys it. It's a chance to relax, and a chance to connect himself even further with his research.
It's a bit of light hearted fun, he's decided, so who cares? It won't go anywhere, and the man's dead, he's not going to see it.
—
Excerpt from ‘Oh Captain, my Captain’, Chapter 8
The Captain takes your face in his hand, and his fingertips are still soft. It's surprising for a moment, and then you remember that as much as he joined the military, he didn't go through the same basic as the other soldiers. He's a man that wanted to protect his country so badly he gave up his body for it.
You don't mind. It's nice, actually, to have soft skin against your own. You'd not expected it, based on everything else about him. He's broad, well toned, he cuts a handsome figure all together. It's impressive and a little bit intimidating. It's more than a little attractive. You stare at his seemingly puzzled expression, and wait to see what he has to say. Steve isn't usually so quiet for nothing, afterall. He's quiet when he's thinking. An endearing quality.
“You're okay, aren't you? I was worried.” His voice is so kind and sweet it makes your chest squeeze. Of course he'd have been worried, after you'd been through the same thing he had been. You remember Peggy telling you how he'd yelled in pain when he was given the serum.
“I'm fine,” You reply, brushing your own hand up his cheek in a soothing gesture. He leans into it. “It's not like the serum could turn me into a monster.”
—---
After the Hulk, he's less active for a while.
Befallen to the curse of the writer, he occasionally thinks to himself with amusement. Of course he'd get in an awful lab accident that turned him into a raging green thing; he's due to update two weeks after it and the universe had to step in to stop him. He announces his hiatus in a new chapter, feeling bad for it, but it had to be done.
Bruce can't write when he's still fighting every instinct inside of him that screams to break everything. Sitting down to get any ideas off of his chest seems an impossible task, too much for him to achieve the way he was. There are a flood of supportive comments, which makes the guilt worse, which makes him closer to being the Hulk at all times. It's an endless cycle. But what else can he do, other than try to calm himself down.
He's learnt harder things than emotional control. He seeks self help books, academic journals, anything that's even related to anger management. Bruce takes up yoga and meditation, and both of them help a little. Eventually, deep breathing helps him to stave off the Hulk if it's not a life or death event. Little stresses and surprises don't make his hands flash green anymore, and he's proud of the achievement even if it's not much. It's better and that's enough.
He goes back to his writing, because it's always been a tool for venting, for him. It was just to let out that mental energy, initially, but it'd also helped him let out some romantic frustrations and his loneliness. He refuses to fall victim to the pitfalls of the average scientist.
Bruce Banner absolutely refuses to turn into a basement-dwelling incel.
He doesn't have sex but that's a personal decision. Bruce finds more often than not that he doesn't even want to, anyway. Struggles to even want to do anything sexual or think about it when it's not someone he's attached to. And he'd lost most of his attachments to the Hulk. So he's back to square one, which is so much easier.
But he's not some woman-hating freak, nor does he blame his own failings on society. He's doing pretty well for himself.
His stories are a nice way to let himself vent his longing for romantic attachment, even for anyone to call a friend. He still writes his longer stories, but he also ventures back into angsty or happy little one shots to just let out what he feels in the moment. It's another great tool to help deal with the Hulk, but not really one that he can just start using in the streets. That's where his meditation comes in. Bruce will take what he can get.
—
Excerpt from ‘The Hero and the Scientist'
Steve laughs and it's beautiful. You've always thought so but everything about him is more after the serum. It makes sense, afterall; the wonderful man goes from simply better than most to perfection. You think it makes sense. It's only fair, for Steve, he deserves the best.
That's not you, and you know that, but you don't care. Steve loves you, he says so more often than anyone could ever need to say it. His expressions are always so soft when he looks at you, and he's always reaching out to touch you when you're together. Steve loves you and that's enough. You don't need to be perfect so long as you're what he wants.
“I love you, sweetheart.” He says, that sappy smile on his face and you laugh.
“How did I know you were going to say that?” You tease, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of his face. He pouts at you and you kiss it off of his face. “I love you too, Cap.”
He grins at you, and you smile back.
—
Work is busy.
Bruce is busy.
It means he's not able to think so much in his free time but he doesn't stop writing. Why should he? He doesn't need an endless loop of random bullshit in his head to sit down and write about being loved.
Maybe he should stop writing about the Captain, but he doesn't really want to. He's still trying to figure out the serum, just by himself, and mostly because it's become a bit of a fixation for him. It's somewhat soothing to try and work out the equations, to compare them to what he'd used on himself.
His mental state isn't the best, but he's not surprised about that. He's a monster inside, after all, and he needs to get rid of that. It's a risk to others. To everyone he's ever loved. Bruce wonders constantly what his mother would say about what he's done, the people he's hurt. The thought always ends early because he can only remember his mother's kind hands in his hair, the smile on her face whenever she looked at him
She might not blame him. Maybe she'd go easy on him, because he was her first child. Her daughter.
No, he thinks, always her son. She just didn't know like he didn't know. His father had killed her before he could tell her. Bruce knows she'd have supported him, would have loved helping him pick out his name. He'd picked it from reading through her old diaries, finding that his name was going to be Robert if he'd been a boy.
It's not his favourite name. He prefers Bruce.
But still, when he'd changed his name, Robert was what he'd picked. He introduces himself as Bruce Banner but he knows that his mother wouldn't care as long as he carried the name she'd given him somewhere. He's got his birth name tattooed on his hip, a fond memory of her. With how he looks now, he thinks everyone just assumes it's an ex-girlfriend and he's too lazy to get it removed or covered. The assumption is endlessly funny so he's not changing it.
He doesn't mention his name when he writes, obviously. It's a bit because he wants to maintain his privacy and a bit because he doesn't really need to. He's Bruce Banner with 7 PhD’s, not Bruce Banner with a fanfiction account. He absolutely does not need anyone to know that.
Especially not any of his remaining family.
Being smart is acceptable. Being a man is less so. Writing this sort of thing would probably fall somehow worse than being queer.
That's so utterly embarrassing.
—
Excerpt from ‘Fandom Trumps Hate 2009’
The Captain doesn't seem like the type of guy to be queer, so everyone says. He's the traditional image of a heterosexual male, handsome and well built. He's kind and charming when women approach him in bars, smiling and sweet. Steve is perfect, and everyone knows it. He's the type of guy you'd bring home to the family.
They've never seen him laughing under rainbow lights, covered in glitter and half-plastered. He's America’s Golden boy in the sunshine but he's even more beautiful when he's lit with club lights with a fruity drink in hand.
You're charmed more by his image when he's out of his element than when he's perfectly presented and pressed, in the stars and stripes. Well, he still wears stars at least. You had laughed when you put star pasties over his nipple. He'd been adorably confused, blinking at you with wide eyes, but he'd gone along with it.
You watch him smiling so bright in a place that he feels like he belongs and it's beautiful.
Notes:
Sorry historians but Steve was definitely in love with his best friend. Bucky was a charmer and Steve followed him into war. They're gay, your honour.
—
The hospital is busy as usual. Bruce has a day that is so absolutely abhorrently awful that he wants to go home and absolutely bully himself. Or maybe Steve. He's humming and hawing about the idea of making the Captain get shot, when he packs his bag and washes up to head back to his home.
That's when a child drags him from the street to heal their parents, and he follows them easily. When he opens the door, who should be there but a shield agent. He's blonde, a bow over his back and his arms are crossed over his chest. There's a frown etched onto his face and when Bruce walks in, he huffs.
“Can you people leave me alone? I'm here to help.” He snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose. Digging in his bag for a cereal bar, he unwraps it and takes a bite. The agent stares at him with something between confusion and horror. “What, I'm hungry. I was going home to eat dinner before you sent a child after me so you could harass me.” It's also easier not to snap when he's not working on an empty stomach, and if he snaps he's hulking out.
The agent reluctantly allows him to finish, going on with what he has to say.
“We need your help,” He starts, huffing. “There's something like the Hulk charging around the city and you seem to be the only one who understands it. So we'd appreciate some help.”
Bruce gestures for the agent to follow him and heads back to where he's living. He's already complaining to himself about how he has to move again. The government cannot hop off of his lap for a second, can they? He's not even done anything and they still chase after him constantly, begging for his help or threatening to arrest him.
“I'm Bruce, by the way.” The blonde man stares at him in surprise. “You know that but you don't really seem to care that I'm still a person, so. I thought I'd let you know. Bruce Banner, scientist, not just some green guy.” Bruce doesn't care to see the man's reaction.
“Clint.” He gets in response, so at least he's being given a name in response. Clint follows him in when he holds the door to his abode open, sitting on his table and watching him put his stuff down. Bruce is seconds away from hitting the man just because he's being so rude, but he doesn't particularly want to get arrested. It'd be really awkward to have to explain that in his notes for the next chapter. ‘By the way I'm in prison now lol. hit a government agent.’
That absolutely cannot happen.
“It's nice to meet you I suppose. Did you want my help or the help of the Hulk?” He asks, staring at the man. He looks a little sheepish.
“I'm not sure to be honest. They weren't specific, just asked me to come and get you so you could help.” Clint explains, and Bruce sighs before rooting around in one of his drawers. He pulls out a capped syringe and approaches Clint to give it to him.
“Here, this should stop it if it's similar to the Hulk. I'd been making it specifically for that, but it failed to do anything more than make me take a very satisfying nap for a couple of days. I hope it helps, but I'm not going back to the US right now, not given that I'm literally wanted as far as I know.” He smiled as kindly as he could. He was so fed up with doing free work for the government because he couldn't do anything about it. What was he going to do, report them? He'd get arrested.
“Thanks,” Clint chirps, hopping off his table. “See you around man. Sorry for being a bit of a dick.”
“Whatever. Bye, Clint.”
—
Excerpt from ‘Wanted’, chapter 10
Steve stands in your doorway, his shield strapped over his forearm. He's backlit by the corridor to the building, and he cuts an imposing figure. Still, you do little but grin at him as you sling your bag over your shoulder and start to descend the fire escape on the outside of your window. You hear a mutter, maybe a curse, but keep running.
“Stop right there!” The Captain yells, but you keep going. There's the clunking of boots on the metal steps above you as you keep going, but as you're about to hop off the bottom of the fire escape a hand grabs your shoulder.
“Don't run from me.”
“What, little old me?” You tease, smiling at him. “I haven't done anything, Stevie dear. Absolutely innocent. Ask your beloved government, I didn't do anything to deserve all this chasing.” He looks confused but doesn't seem to believe you. Why should he? You're a criminal after all.
The thought is quite funny. You're the criminal after revealing their crimes? They need to get a grip.
Notes:
This chapter is inspired by the government agents that have rocked up to my home over the years. Go away please, or at least pay me.
—
Bruce really, really, wants SHIELD to stop showing up at his goddamn doorstep. Or more specifically to stop showing up in his house. He's moved 20 times over the past three years. It's getting to a point that they need to either give him the tasks in groups or stop asking. Or they could even hire him. Oh how he'd love to receive a little bit of financial appreciation for his efforts.
He might even be able to afford a laptop that doesn't boil his thighs alive every time he uses it. The longings of a desperate man.
At the very least, this one is quite pretty and more polite. Bruce still gets a bit annoyed even just remembering the time Clint burst into his home and sat his dirty ass on his nice clean table. Having to clean the dirt off of the table had been so close to his last straw.
“You need to come with me,” She said, smiling at him, “We need you up at HQ.” Bruce could see through the expression. People never suspected it of him, maybe it was that he was an introvert and quite awkward, but he was good at reading people. They did need him, but it was stressful enough that her smile was clearly fake. She was stressed about this, which meant that he should probably be stressed about it.
If he was stressed about it, the Hulk was coming out just like he had. With no small amount of anger.
“What's happening that you need me so badly, miss?” He asked, watching her eye twitch a little. “Usually you want a solution from me from here, or wherever I'm residing, you don't want me to come to your base. You don't want me on American soil enough to bring me there. So what's happening?”
“We need you to build a device to track something. You're one of the only people that SHIELD knows are capable of doing so and working with the material, so you're up. You'll be rewarded for your efforts, Doctor Banner.” She tilted her head at him and pushed her chest up more, and Bruce had to refrain from a rude comment. Telling her he'd had bigger tits than her when he'd not gotten his surgery yet wasn't helpful in any way.
But it was incredibly tempting.
“Whatever, fine.” He wandered off into his home to pack his stuff into bags, his laptop in its case and in his bag first. An upgrade might be upcoming. Oh how he longed for the day. He put it over his shoulder and came back into the main area of his home, watching her.
She stood on a phone, of sorts, typing out a message. Her nails clacked on the screen. It was equally quite satisfying and rather annoying.
“What are we waiting for?” He prompted, and she glanced up at him. He smiled back. “I've got everything. Let's go track your stuff so I can get back to my day job.” His other job, or his hobby, went unsaid. He wanted to get back to his normal routine so he could complain in his notes about how the government refused to leave him alone again. No one believed him but it was always funny to see their reactions.
“Follow me, Banner.”
—
Excerpt from ‘Modernity is oh-so confusing’
It's wonderful to see him with his side profile lit by colourful lights. The advertising in New York isn't what he's used to, and it seems to be a little overwhelming. But equally he's gorgeous in the light of it, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. You watch him quietly as he takes it all in.
“Are you alright?” You ask, when he has been quiet for far too long. He turns to look at you, looking more than a bit lost. It's as endearing as it is heartbreaking. Steve shouldn't have that look on his face, you think. He'd always been so confident, so sure of himself. Even when he had only just joined up, he was strong and brave. He'd jumped on that grenade, after all.
“Just fine,” He replies, sounding like he's anything but. “It's all a bit new. That's all.”
“Yeah, you're right, it is.” You reply, sliding your hand into his. Your fingers curl together. “But we're together, aren't we? We'll figure it out.” You smile at him and lean your head on his shoulder.
“Yeah, we will.”
—
Fuck.
Absolutely fuck. What the hell.
Bruce has no clue which source of the world is real but he does know that they hate him in particular. They probably had a good long chuckle to themself as they placed him in the same room- in the same airship as Steve Rogers. Captain America himself. ‘That’ll show him’, they probably said ‘he’s had far too good of a time in recent months’.
Needless to say he is absolutely panicking. How does he talk to the man he writes stories about? The man he's wrote holding hands with himself, the man he's openly thirsted over on his account so many times. The man he's been obsessed with since he was a kid, the man he's been half weirdly in love with for a good few years. It's creepy and so wrong to have been so excited when Steve Rogers shook his hand. He was definitely obviously baffled when the man smiled at him.
Captain America knows his name. Captain America has held his hand.
Steve smiled at him.
Shit, he's so fucked. He should definitely stop writing that sort of thing about the man now that he's met him. He definitely will not be able to bring himself to, though. How is he supposed to do that when Steve has actually smiled at him and it was just as sunny as he'd imagined?
There's no way Steve is queer anyway, he tells himself in a delirious panic. He jokes all the time but he's probably straight. Yeah that thing with Bucky Barnes was really suspicious and he thinks they probably kissed at least once but he's probably straight. Bruce groans and hides his face in his hands, locked away in the sole stall in the men's room on the airships. What the hell is he meant to do now? Act normal?
People met their celebrity crushes all the time but they'd probably never written fanfiction about them. Suddenly Bruce wishes he were just a little more normal.
If he was normal he'd probably have never started writing stories based solely on the fact he really, really wants to date Captain America. Or be like him. Bruce has never really been good at figuring that out. It doesn't matter anyway because he's completely screwed.
Screw that magic twink from space, Bruce doesn't need any of that to kill him. If he does anything to embarrass himself in front of Steve Rogers he's tossing himself off of the airship immediately and Fury can deal with the Hulk in the aftermath. Maybe he'll be so ashamed the Hulk won't even come out and he'll just die of embarrassment. That'd be nice, he thinks.
Every time Steve smiles at him Bruce feels his heart beating out of his chest. He wants to kick himself so hard but letting out a girly yelp would be worse than whatever gay behaviour he's exhibiting so he suffers with his own shame.
Steve is really nice, though. It's nice to see because Bruce thinks his crush is definitely going to get 120% worse after saving the world with the man. He asks Bruce what he wants, when they're in the restaurant getting food afterwards, and Bruce bites his tongue hard to not blurt out ‘you, please’. He's so glad he mastered self control years and years ago.
That would have been so endlessly awful.
—
Excerpt from ‘Alien invasion turned ancient affection’
You're under rubble, your limbs and body aching generally when he appears. Captain America. He was supposed to be dead, and yet, there he is. Shield in hand, a serious expression on his face. The uniform looks more than a little ridiculous but you don't care because in the moment he looks godly, almost. Perfect.
He's your saviour.
“Are you alright?” He asks, and you nod shakily even though your head is absolutely pounding. He smiles, although it is closer to a grimace than anything. It's clear he's also not having a super great time, with everything going on.
Fair enough, you suppose. Alien invasions will do that to a man. But he still looks far more confident than you feel- than you have ever felt. His body is locked in a posture that looks so ridiculously perfect, ready to snap back into action at a moment's notice. You watch as he does just that, when one of those things gets too close. Blood sprays from the creature, a weird thick black.
“Let's get you out of here, alright?”
Notes:
Today the impossible happened. I met Captain Fucking America. I don't think many understand the absolute shame you feel meeting someone you've written slash fiction about. I almost combusted into flames.
He was just as cute as I've always imagined.
—
Steve keeps texting him. A predictable outcome of having given the man his number, when he'd asked.
And he had.
Bruce is still reeling.
It's simple stuff, just ‘what’s this?’ or ‘who’s that?’, but Bruce is positively giddy from the attention the man gives him. Coulson would be jealous, rest his soul. When Steve starts sending him selfies of him at the movies, or after runs, or mirror pictures from in the gym, he absolutely can't cope. He's too gay to deal with friendly male affection from a man from the 40’s.
(He wants to kiss those perfect abs. It's getting really, really bad.)
Steve starts using emojis, eventually. Usually a simply smiling face, occasionally one crying with laughter. Those are usually accompanied by some modern reference he found hilarious. Bruce was proud of himself when he suggested the Harry Potter novels and Steve responded after finishing with several crying emojis and a long rant about how good they were. He's glad that Steve enjoyed them, he really is. He did too.
And then the requests for recommendations don't stop. Bruce is soon sharing his favourite foods, music, tv shows, movies, even his favourite books. Steve gives mostly positive reviews too. There's the occasional one that's not so good but in the face of such overwhelming similarities it hardly matters.
He's invited to go with Steve to a show. His heart is pounding out of his chest the whole time, and as he's searching for the man outside, he finds him. With Natasha on his arm, waving at him.
For a moment, he's genuinely worried he might Hulk out from the combo of relief and utter rage flooding through him.
“Bruce!” Steve calls, and he sounds so excited that Bruce can't help but be fond. He's still a little annoyed, because if he'd known there would be a third person he'd have been more prepared, but it's Steve. Unlike Tony, he finds it incredibly difficult to be mad at the man.
“Hey Steve, nice to see you. You too, Natasha. To what do we owe the honour?” He smiles as he says it, looking up at Steve. The man looks a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well, I was heading out of the facility and she asked to join me. I didn't want to be rude, I'm sorry I forgot to tell you. It completely slipped my mind.” He holds out the tickets, along with a small bag of M&Ms. Bruce takes his ticket, resigned to the fact that he's absolutely too queer to even consider still being mad at Steve.
“No worries, it's alright. It's not like I don't enjoy her company, after all.” He doesn't, not as much as he enjoys Steve's. And definitely not as much as he was going to enjoy being alone with him. On something so close to a date as well. The anger he felt was somewhere between irrational and probably justified, but he grinned and bore it as he usually did when he was annoyed.
‘HULK WANT RED GIRL GO AWAY.’ He heard in the back of his head, and he winced even though it was incredibly amusing. ‘Me too, buddy’, he sympathised. Hulk continued grumbling in his mind. Steve looked concerned- Natasha looked suspicious.
“Are you alright? Headache?”
“Oh, no it's fine. The, uh, big guy decided to pipe up. He does that sometimes. Nothing to worry about.” The Captain nodded, setting a hand on his shoulder.
“If you're sure. Let's head on inside, then.”
Steve's confidence in his ability to control the Hulk is new for him. Bruce is used to everyone suspecting he's about to snap and break everything. Even when he shows signs that the Hulk is about in his head, Steve doesn't seem remotely bothered. He's… a little ridiculous. Bruce feels his heart squeeze and he follows the direction of the hand on his shoulder to go inside the theatre.
Screw Natasha, they'd have a good time anyway. There'll be another day to be alone with Steve.
—
Excerpt from ‘Green-eyed monster’
You're watching Steve with his friends. The Avengers. Iron Man, Hulk, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Thor. They're all laughing and joking and you're so, so happy that he has people to spend time with.
You're also incredibly jealous. He looks so happy with them. You're not perfect like them, not a charismatic billionaire or a beautiful spy or a god from another planet. You're just some person that Steve met and decided he liked enough to bring you home. You're like a stray puppy, compared to the Avengers. It's a little painful.
“Come here, sweetheart.” Steve prompts, and you do just that, drink in hand. It's just water, but still, he takes it from you to set it on the table like it's more important.
He places you in his lap, smiling and resting his chin on your shoulder. It's embarrassing, really, or at least it should be.
Really, you just feel assured. Steve wants you there. Steve wants you. You lean your head against his, smiling sweetly at him. He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck that's available for him to do so, and continues chatting. He's so sweet.
—
Bruce is sick and tired of SHIELD. It had been, if not fine, at least somewhat understandable when they sent Natasha with him and Steve to the theatre. But if Clint rocks up to one more event that Bruce has tried to internally classify as something close to a date, he's getting smashed in the same way Loki had been. He's only half joking. Hulk is getting pissed off with the man as well, constantly grumbling whenever he enters the same room as them.
It's giving Bruce migraines.
In his defence, though, Steve also seems rather annoyed with the treatment. He was alright with it the first few times, but eventually he started frowning every time someone tagged along. They started spending time together alone in Steve's bedroom, rather than in public.
It was… much more intimate. But they were also able to actually spend time together alone, not with several people tagging along.
“I don't understand why they're following us around. It's not like they can protect us from anything we couldn't deal with ourselves!” Steve complained, sat beside Bruce on his bed. The TV on his desk was playing some random show, Bruce didn't really care. Their legs were touching and it had been all he could think about for the past twenty minutes.
“They're not following us, they're following you.” Bruce pointed out, huffing. “And they only do it when you're with me. They're ‘protecting their assets’.” The air quotes he used were very exaggerated.
“From what, though?”
“From me. Or well, from the other guy.”
‘They don't trust him’, he didn't say. ‘They don't trust me’.
“Hulk isn't going to hurt me, he's friendly as anything when nothing is a threat to you. If anything he's probably going to be more annoyed at you being followed around than he would be otherwise!” Steve said, incredulous, and Bruce had to restrain a wide smile.
Oh, Steve knew him, and the Hulk, really well. Enough to know that Hulk was roaring every time Natasha or Clint or some random SHIELD agent tagged along on their hangouts. The Hulk grumbled in complaint in the back of his mind and Bruce pressed his fingers to his head, mumbling something to him about agreeing. Hulk was right, so Bruce couldn't even be particularly angry about the complaining.
“Shit, he is annoyed and it's hurting you. Let's stop talking about it.” His hand came to rest on Bruce's shoulder. “Is it bad? Sorry I didn't think.”
“You thought about it more than they have,” Bruce laughed, smiling at him. Steve returned it. “Its not too bad, it's okay. I don't mind listening, Hulk just agrees with you. I do too. It's annoying to not even be trusted to spend time with another person. They think I'm going to freak out and hurt you.”
“You'd never.”
Bruce knew that, and Hulk rumbled a soft agreement. It didn't hurt. Steve was off limits.
“Yeah, I know.”
—
Excerpt from ‘Third wheeling’
You're so, so tired of Tony showing up every time you want to go out on a date with Steve. The man seems to always know the worst possible times to come and ask you a question, or offer you a drink, or just want to chat with you. And despite his playboy reputation, he doesn't seem to realise what he's doing.
Or maybe he does and it's intentional.
Either way, he's a pain in the ass. Based on Steve's expression, and the fact that you've been interrupted on a date for the fourth time in a week, he's feeling about the same. Neither of you are sure why he's there, or how he even found the two of you. You went half way across the city just so he couldn't, and yet there he is. Pulling up a chair to your table of two and stealing bread rolls.
“Tony.” You mutter.
“Yes?”
“Get out.”
Notes:
Ib the people that keep showing up to my potential dates. Stop doing that please and thanks xx
—
The money he's getting from working with the Avengers, as well as Tony's billionaire generosity, means that Bruce is in a better position than he has been in years. He's got a new laptop. It's beautiful. The screen isn't weirdly coloured, he doesn't have to use a second keyboard just to type, and the touchpad works. He feels so lucky.
He probably doesn't deserve all he's gotten. But then, no-one else was going to be a big green monster and control it when not being used in active warzones against aliens. So maybe he does.
It's so nice to be able to write on a device that's not old. Or awful. He honestly wouldn't care if his laptop was as old as Thor if it worked properly. And now it did. He might have cried a little bit when it had turned on and let him log in immediately. That sort of thing hadn't happened with his laptop in years. It was an actually functional piece of technology! A miracle, in all honesty. And Hulk didn't try to escape to smash it.
Bruce spends hours tucked in bed writing when it's finally all set up, catching up with stories he hasn't written in so long. He'd felt bad but his laptop couldn't cope. He's back from a weird hiatus and it's great, better than anything he could have hoped for.
Walking into the kitchen the next day, head bopping to the music in his headphones, he'd been refreshed. Then he'd seen Steve at the counter. Reading fanfiction on his laptop. Reading Bruce's fanfiction on his laptop. Out in the open. No shame, full screen, light mode, just out and about. Bruce had nearly had an actual heart attack over it, his chest aching with it.
“Oh, hey, Bruce!” Steve greets, turning around. “What's up? Hungry? I was about to make some food if you wanted to join me. Could use some help cutting vegetables.”
“Uh, yeah, sure, hungry. Yes. Hungry. I'll help you chop.” He laughs nervously, feeling like it's obvious. Steve can definitely hear his heart going haywire. It's audible to him, Steve's enhanced hearing can definitely pick up on it. But the man doesn't comment, getting up and starting to gather things from the fridge. Bruce stares at his laptop screen, the title for chapter 19 of ‘Holds your heart in his hands’. It's maybe his most explicitly romantic story.
“Bruce?”
“Coming!” Bruce dashes around the counter, washing his hand and trying to force himself to listen intently to whatever Steve is saying.
He's so screwed.
Steve reads his stories???
Fuck.
—
Comment on ‘Holds your heart in his hands’ from FriendOfDorothy
This is such a sweet story. A lot of the others I have seen in this tag are more sexual which is also well written but I've seen many of your works, if not all of them, are entirely teen. I quite enjoy the romantic nature instead of the more… intense content.
Your characterisation is quite good, and your descriptions are very detailed. Very romantic. A nice read!
—
Bruce doesn't know what to do. Does he say something to Steve? Does he just get rid of his entire account? Does he throw himself from the roof of the building and hope that it takes this time?
No, that's a bit drastic. Or not drastic enough? He's not sure how well he's reading the situation.
He stares at the page for his account on his laptop, sitting at his table in the lab. Tony should be asleep, as it's about 1pm or so. He usually crashes at about 11am. Should he just give up the ghost and finally admit who he is? Or just get rid of the account, abandon everything, and pretend it had never happened? He groans and drops his head to the table, covering his head with his arms.
“What do I dooo?” He whines into the empty room, burying his fingers in his hair.
“About what?” Tony asks from the space behind him and Bruce yelps, shooting up and shoving his laptop over the table. It falls to the floor with a loud clatter, and he hears Tony hiss in sympathy. Bruce slams his fists on the table and yells in frustration and anger, bashing his head into the table again afterwards.
“You doin' okay there, Brucie Bear? You seem a bit wired.” Tony seems cautious which Bruce appreciates because he's one more bad thing away from absolutely losing it. His brand new laptop. His documents. He recalls them being saved to the cloud but nonetheless even the thought of the loss of them is painful. He doesn't want to get a new laptop again. He'd just started decorating the one he had, little equations sketched on the sides and stickers plastered on the back.
“My laptop…” He mutters, whacking his head on the table again. “My brand new laptop…”
“Hey, it's alright. I'll get you a new one, state of the art, my treat. It's my fault for sneaking up on you, afterall.” There's a shuffle as Tony crosses to the other side of the table.
Bruce peers up at him from where he's sat, really glad his glasses had been forgotten in his room. He'd probably have actually started crying if those were broken as well. Tony has a small grin on his face, half reassuring and half mischievous.
“Anyway, what were you looking at that you reacted like that? And in the lab too? Tut tut, Brucie.” It's said in jest, obviously, but Bruce still scowls at him. If he could control the Hulk better he'd make a show of his hands flashing green, but as it is he's struggling to keep calm. He was absolutely not watching or reading porn in the lab, thank you very much Tony.
Ridiculous. He doesn't watch porn. That shit is all nasty.
“Not funny, Tony, I just lost my laptop to your weird ass sleep schedule. I thought you'd be asleep now.”
“Nah, I had a meeting so Peps made me go to sleep early last night. Pain in my ass but I attended so I thought I'd get some lab time in with my favourite rage machine!” He looks down at Bruce's destroyed laptop. “But I guess not. Whatever, I suppose we should clean this up. Maybe then you can take a nap and sleep off your cranky attitude.”
Bruce really wants a nap, he decides, which is why he doesn't lose it. It's a good idea. Better than wiping his entire internet history and disappearing across the globe again. Better than leaving Steve behind…
He pushes himself up from the table and goes to fetch a dustpan and brush.
Not the time, Bruce.
—
Excerpt from ‘Holds your heart in his hands’, chapter 21
His hands are on your hips and you're swaying together. It's stupidly sappy and maybe not something you'd do usually, but it's different with Steve.
Everything always is.
He makes everything so, so much better. So much easier. Steve smiles at you and you smile back, brushing your thumb through the hair at the nape of his neck. He leans in to press a kiss to your lips. It's sweet and soft. It's wonderful. Just like every other time he's done it, but still somehow better. He gets better at everything with a little bit of practice. It's just how he is.
Notes:
Sweet little chapter <3 lost my new laptop in a lab related accident recently :’( almost lost it on a co-worker and I feel so baddd :((
(Also, if you're still reading. hi Steve)
—
It was so stupid. He really should not have said anything in those stupid end of chapter notes. Such a dumb, dumb idea.
It had sparked a lot of amusement from his regular commenters, at least, about why he was talking to a man named Steve. Giggling about him managing to find a boyfriend with the same name as his very obvious crush. They don't know half of it. They don't know he's talking to Steve Rogers. Captain America. They don't know he's caught the man reading slash fiction about himself.
Which, when Bruce thinks about it, might be more embarrassing than writing it? But he's definitely not going to ask anyone. Mostly because that would mean admitting everything. That'd be embarrassing, regardless of whether or not Steve's thing was worse.
So he stalks around the tower, hoping to catch a glimpse of Steve reading the note. Hoping to see his expression.
He's lucky. He's watching Steve scroll through his screen with determination, entranced in what he's reading. Then, his whole body tenses and he slams the laptop screen shut. Bruce takes that as his opportunity to announce himself by wandering to the other side of the counter he's sat at, smiling and waving at him.
“Hey, Steve.” He greets. Steve blinks up at him, face burning bright red and his eyes flicking between the laptop and Bruce. Bruce can see the tips of his ears are red. It's so ridiculously cute.
“Bruce! Hello, hi, good to see you! Making food, I assume.” Steve laughs awkwardly, glancing away for a moment to take a deep breath before looking back at him. Bruce can see the moment he takes a deep breath to calm himself, his face returning closer to normal. That blush falls from his ears and Bruce nearly pouts at the loss. That's definitely going in the next chapter.
“Making food would be correct,” Bruce affirms, dragging oats out of the cupboard. “Just some oatmeal though. Want in?” He shakes the plastic tub a little, smiling at Steve. He feels oddly powerful to not be on the backfoot in their exchange. Yes, Steve has read his stories, but he doesn't know that's Bruce.
Bruce knows that Steve reads romantic slash fiction about himself. Technically, that's a win.
“Sure, why not. Need help?”
“Nah, I got it. Get back to your work, or whatever it was you were doing on your laptop.” Steve nearly blanches but Bruce watches his expression return to neutral.
Damn, he thinks. He was so looking forward to Steve losing it.
—
Comments on chapter 21 of ‘Holds your heart in his hands’
CapsicleLvr
SO CUTEEE IM LITERALLY DYING 100 TIMES OVER RIGHT NOW!! YOUR WRITING IS ALWAYS SOOO GOOD MX SCIENTIST!!!!
FriendOfDorothy
This seems to be a general consensus, in your comments, but your story is very sweet. It always is. I really like the life you bring to the characters, even the reader. I feel like a real person rather than some strange doppelganger just in another universe.
It's refreshing!
FrostyTheCapMan
loved the chapter sloppy makout with Steve when <333
—
Usually Bruce loves how active his comments are.
But it makes it really hard to determine which one Steve is when so many of his comment notifications come in at the same time! Curse you, comment to email delay. He stares at all the names in the comments and isn't sure whether Steve would have named himself in relation to being Captain America or not.
Probably not, is what he assumes, but there are still so many normal names in his comments that he can't figure out which it might be. He groans and buries his face in his pillows, clicking his phone screen off with his thumb. He needs to figure out what Steve thinks about the stories and fast. What if Steve is a hate commenter? What if he's one of the guests that calls him horrible names? Bruce couldn't take it.
“Please be normal, Steve.” He mumbles, before pushing himself up and pulling on a pair of pajama pants to go to the kitchen. His shirt lies abandoned on the floor, but he doesn't particularly care to put it on. He just wants a glass of water and maybe a snack, it cannot be that difficult.
To no one's surprise, they're suddenly needed in the field. Specifically, Hulk is needed in the field. And Bruce doesn't even have the time to run and get a change of clothes before he's being pushed into the helicopter in the dead of night, half naked and shivering. He didn't even get his snack. Bruce mourns the loss of the donut that he'd had to abandon to the kitchen counter when he was called out. He stares at the others he's called out with, just Steve and Clint. He rests his head against the window and yawns.
“Tired?” Steve asks, his voice crackling over the headsets they're wearing. Bruce mumbles something in agreement, he's not really sure what. Too tired to think about it more.
“You look it. Get some sleep while we travel.” He coaxes, and Bruce thinks about it for a moment before-
“That'd be good but we need to brief before we can take a nap,” Clint cuts in, and Bruce scrubs at his eyes with his fingers. He's starting to loathe the sight of the man, which feels a bit mean, but he's always just. There. If Clint weren't there, Bruce could burrow his head into Steve's shoulder and fall asleep. It'd be so comfortable. “Sorry Bruce.”
“‘S okay.” He yawns. It's not okay. He doesn't even need to know the plan. It doesn't matter what it is, Hulk always has to do one thing. Smash. They can tell him what to smash and not smash when he's actually out.
Apparently it gives them peace of mind to tell it to the non threatening half first, as though Bruce is able to reason with the Hulk. If he could, there wouldn't be any smashing at all. He appreciates it a bit, but the reason they do it isn't from any sort of sentiment. They're not trying to make sure Bruce is aware of what he's going to be up to while he's out, they want Bruce to feel like he's in control. He's very much not.
Steve seems to pick up on his tense mood and squeezes his hand, just once. Bruce sighs and glances at Clint.
The man starts droning on. Bruce could honestly not be any less interested than he already was. He'd rather live at home with his father than deal with it. Maybe not that, actually. He'd rather have Steve discover he's the guy writing stories about him? Probably not. But then Clint starts speaking again and he thinks it'd probably be less boring at least. He drops into a light snooze against Steve's shoulder.
When he wakes up again, he's laying in wet leaves and mud, gasping and sitting up.
“What the fuck-” He mutters, before a blanket is curled around his shoulders to cover him. Bruce clutches it to his chest and blinks confusedly, looking at the blurry outline of one Steve Rogers. He's manhandled to his feet and finds he doesn't much mind that, but he is a lot confused as to what had happened.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks, all serious. Bruce smiles fondly at him.
“Much better, thanks.”
—
Excerpt from chapter 21 of ‘holds your heart in his hands’
His hands are gentle when he gets you to your feet. You yawn widely and lean into his collarbone. He's a big, imposing type of man, but surprisingly really comfortable to lean on.
Maybe it's not surprising, actually. All things considered, Steve is a guy that's nice to lean on. Both in the literal and metaphorical sense. His muscle is firm but also carries a softness you'd not expected. He's a very dependable person. Always kind, displaying affection but not too… intense. You wrap your arms around his waist and enjoy soaking in his body heat.
The clothes you're wearing- his clothes- are warm and comfortable. Soft against your skin, and they smell just like him. It's relaxing. Steve's arms curl around you in return, tucking you close to him. He rocks you, just a little. Gently.
“Alright, love?” He whispers.
“Just fine, darling.” You mutter back.
—
Steve holds out his sweatshirt to wear. It's got the SHIELD logo embroidered on the breast, and usually Bruce would cringe away. But it looks like it's really high quality, thick and soft. He takes it in his blanketed hands, and a pair of sweatpants are dropped on top. ‘Steve Rogers’ is embroidered on the inseam, just below the tag.
“Put these on,” Steve prompts, patting the pile with his hand. “You'll be warm then, until we can get back to the tower. I don't want you only in that blanket. I can't imagine it's comfortable.”
It's not, Bruce admits to himself. It's scratchy, catching on the odd patches of dry skin he has where it's getting closer and closer to winter. He nods in return, trying to give Steve a smile. He's not sure how well it works because he's tired. He'd tried to put on a brave face, but falling asleep comfortably and waking up dirty and wet really got to him once he was on the plane.
He plods off to the bathroom, pulling on the clothes. He tries to resist, but ends up pulling the collar up to cover his nose. It smells… like laundry detergent. He's not really surprised, Steve seems like the type to keep his clothes clean. A little disappointed, maybe, but still, he's in Steve's sweatshirt. He's genuinely not sure he will ever emotionally recover from the experience. Bruce stares at his covered hands, down to his fully covered feet. Steve's clothes are ridiculously large compared to him.
Bruce doesn't care. He exits the bathroom feeling like he's died and gone to some weird purgatory. Where he gets to wear Steve's clothes but isn't really there enough to be enjoying the experience fully, sort of just. Drifting. He sits down on the floor tucking the lower half of his face into his knees and pressing his back to a random metal barrier. He's not sure where he is but he finds he doesn't mind.
Everything is in a weird muffled state. He can hear clearly, but all the sound he's getting is just plane noises, which he'd like to zone out of. But he can't, because there's nothing else to zone into.
Not until Steve crouches in front of him and puts a set of headphones over his ears. Bruce blinks up at him, confused but too drained to say anything. He's not sure what he's supposed to do. Steve plays something, old music he thinks. It's not really registering properly but it's something that isn't the plane, and with that annoyance dealt with he feels a bit better. Steve sits down beside him, wrapping an arm gently around his shoulder.
Bruce is tugged to rest his head on Steve's shoulder and does so easily, with no resistance at all. His eyes blink closed. He's too tired to think about it too much. Steve's hand is at his shoulder, holding him close and tight, and Bruce sighs.
“Thanks.” He mumbles, he thinks he mumbles, but he doesn't actually know.
He doesn't know much of anything.
Everything slowly drifts away into nothing.
—
Excerpt from ‘quiet mornings’
Steve has an arm curled around your waist, when you wake up. Your face is pillowed on his chest, your leg slung over his thigh. He's a big guy, and with that comes a lot of room for cuddling. Especially considering he's so squishy to lay on- his muscle has a lot more give than you'd expected, considering how he got it.
Your hand, laying atop his pec, gently squeezes the muscle there, which is what makes you wake up. You glance up, and he's smiling at you, bleary and clearly half asleep but also happy to see you.
“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He greets, his voice deep with sleep. “You sleep okay?”
“Morning,” You respond, around a yawn. “Great. You're a good pillow, y’know that? Very comfy.” You make a show of snuggling closer, grinning when he laughs.
“Thanks, love.”
—
Bruce wakes up again, this time curled up in a bed. The covers are pulled up to his chin, which would usually be suffocating, but it feels okay. He's not sure why. He's incredibly comfortable, wearing softer clothes than he remembers owning and buried in a thick duvet.
When he presses his face into the pillow at his head, he realises why he's so oddly comfortable. It's not his bedroom. Bruce is under Steve's sheets, which he knows because he and Steve hang out in his bedroom far too often. He's in Steve's bed, decked out with American flag sheets that were a gag gift from Tony but too soft to throw away, according to Steve.
The reason he feels so okay, so sleepy and willing to rest again, is because he's in Steve's space. He rolls onto his back and pushes himself to sit up, finding Steve asleep at his own desk. His head is resting on the table, his face calm. Bruce's heart squeezes fondly in his chest, and he approaches where he sleeps.
“Steve?” He says softly, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. He yelps when Steve reaches up to grab his wrist.
“Bruce,” Steve breathes, looking up at him. He smiles, but his grip doesn't fall, only loosening where it's resting on his wrist. “Are you alright? You were really out of it. No one knew what to do, I figured you just needed some sleep.”
“Oh. Yeah, I'm alright. Just… being Hulk is a bit much, sometimes. I don't really remember what he does when he's out, especially if I only wake up afterwards…” Bruce trails off, glancing away from the guilty expressions growing on Steve's face. “It's not your fault, please don't look like that. I was tired, but I shouldn't have fallen asleep on the way to a mission.”
Steve lets go of his wrist, only to grab his hand. Bruce shoots a look at where they're touching before nervously looking away again.
“I still feel bad, I should have woken you up.” He responds, and Bruce squeezes his hand.
“It's really not on you, please don't feel bad. Thanks for taking care of me. I'm wearing your clothes right? And you let me sleep in your bed?” Steve nods, and Bruce smiles at him. “You've done a lot for me, Steve, I really appreciate it.”
Before he can say anything else, Steve tugs him forwards to drag him into a hug. It's awkward, he's bent over because Steve is still sat down, but his face is in the crook of his neck and Steve's arms are around him. He's held close, and gently, and he freezes for a moment before hugging him in return.
“You're my friend, Bruce, I'd do anything for you. Especially take care of you.”
It's earnest. Steve is holding him close, and Bruce is revelling in it. All at once, he feels incredibly guilty. Steve doesn't know what he's writing. He doesn't know that Bruce is writing several long stories about dating him, and doesn't know how much Bruce likes him. He holds on tighter to try and force the guilt out. Steve doesn't need to know, he tries to tell himself.
That just makes him feel once. He resolves himself to actually properly get ready and tell him. Once and for all. Whether he loses Steve or doesn't, he has to tell him.
“I’d do the same.” He says, instead of anything more incriminating.
—
Excerpt from ‘taking care’
You press your hand to his forehead and he still feels warm, but not as much as he did before. He blinks up at you, eyes hazy and his lips drawn down in a pout. You smile back at him, sliding your hand back to run your fingers through his hair.
“I'm fine,” Steve tries, before coughing and covering his mouth with his elbow. “I'm a super soldier, I don't get sick.”
“You clearly do.” You respond, raising a brow at him. He tries to give you puppy dog eyes, but you ignore them. It's a good, valiant effort though. You can feel the weight of those big blue eyes on you. “Steve, you need to rest, not get up and fight bad guys. It's okay to be sick. It doesn't mean anything about you.”
He blinks his eyes at you, and then nods a little.
“I know but… I feel bad. You're taking such good care of me and I can't do anything in return.” He's very whiney when he's sick. You don't mind. He's a sweetheart the rest of the time, always more focused on what you want than anything else. Steve deserves to complain for himself, for once, to ask for what he wants. Even if what he wants is silly and detrimental to his health.
“I like taking care of you, Steve. Just like you like taking care of me.” You wipe the sweat from his forehead before pressing a chaste kiss there. “You'll be better in no time, alright? Just let me pamper you a little.”
Notes:
My friend took care of me recently after a bit of a spiral. I really appreciated it. Decided to treat Steve to some good comfort from his reader to get the thought out of my mind.
Real life very easily bleeds into fiction.
—
Bruce spends weeks trying to gather himself enough to tell Steve everything. To tell him that he's in love with him, but more importantly to tell him that he writes slash fiction about him online. One of those things is far more stressful than the other, and he thinks the order of them should probably be reversed.
The idea of proposing to Steve right then was actually easier for him to come to terms with than telling him what he writes.
He has no idea what to do. It's not like he can ask anyone for advice. He makes an anonymous post on reddit, but all he gets are comments saying how it's creepy to write and publish slash fiction about real people who don't consent. Bruce guesses that they don't really realise it's a celebrity who was thought dead for 100 years so it's probably fair. There wasn't much actual advice but to just tell them.
Which leaves him at square one, because that's exactly what he doesn't want to do. He really, really doesn't want to tell Steve anything at all even though he knows he has to. Steve deserves the truth, especially from him. But god, Bruce is struggling to tell it.
He considers admitting it in the notes, but then he's telling a whole bunch of people that he's Bruce Banner and he writes slash fiction. He can just envision it going viral and spreading all over twitter. Just the image of that hellsite makes him almost break out in stress hives. That's a very poor option.
Bruce forces himself to take a deep breath and just do it. He'll go to Steve's room, look him in the eyes, and tell him. He gets up, opens his door to do just that, and almost gets Steve's fist in his face.
“Steve?” He asks, incredulously.
“Can we talk? Inside?” Steve responds, and Bruce swallows before nodding. Oh he's so utterly fucked.
“Is everything okay?” Bruce asks as he shuts the door behind them.
“Are you, uhm. Does the name SuperSerumScientist mean anything to you?” Oh. Well. Bruce blinks at the man in front of him, opens his mouth to respond, and just stares. Maybe he wasn't ready after all, he realises. He's found out. His heart pounds in his chest.
“It. Yes, it does, that's uh, that's me. My username, that is.” He shuffles awkwardly, squeezing his hands together. Fuckity fuck. Shit.
“So, that means you're writing stories about, uhm, dating me, then?” Steve asks, seeming somehow more nonchalant than Bruce had expected. He's not sure what he'd expected. Yelling, maybe, anger? Confusion? Definitely not this weird calm vibe. Maybe it's fake, but Steve seems completely unbothered.
Bruce is freaking out. He's completely reeling, because he's not sure how the hell Steve managed to figure out that it was him. Is it obvious? Do all of his regulars know? Are people talking about it? No, he's over reacting. Steve knows him well enough that it's probably just a thing related to that. Bruce has told him a lot about himself, they've shared a lot of details. Not his account, those are definitely very personal, but.
Steve knows a lot about him.
“Yes.” Bruce responds. He half has to force the word out, and half has to hold himself back because he feels like he's going to throw up. Shit, what is Steve thinking? What does the expression on his face mean? He doesn't know.
He doesn't know and it's terrifying.
And then Steve's hands are on his face and Bruce doesn't have the time to flinch away because they're kissing. He stares with wide eyes at Steve's, where they're squeezed shut, and returns the kiss with as much fervor as he's getting. He curls his hands in Steve's soft sweatshirt and pulls him even closer.
It's wonderful. Everything he's ever imagined. Steve is clearly something close to frenzied, maybe panicked is a more apt description, but Bruce can't find it in him to worry too much. Their lips part, and they pant into the space between them.
Steve's eyes blink open again, and he grins at him, wide and bright.
“They're really good stories, Bruce. I really like them.” He breathes, and tugs him back in again. Bruce goes easily.
—
Excerpt from chapter 22 of ‘holds your heart in his hands’
Everything is perfect when you and Steve are kissing. Background noise is muffled, and the places you're touching are so warm it almost burns your skin. It's a pleasant burn, though. Like the knowledge that Steve feels the same as you do, that he returns everything you've wanted for so long.
It's wonderful. Not much is ever perfect but it truly feels like it could be, between the two of you. Soft and sweet.
When Steve kisses you it's like the world stops spinning and the two of you are the only people left. It's incredible. Better than anything else. You let yourself melt into it, electing not to think about it too much. You don't need to.
Everything is nice.
Notes:
For Steve, who wanted this story to end on a sweet note for the two of us <3
—
They still need to talk, after they've kissed, and they do. For a long time. It's stressful and not very fun at parts but it's necessary.
And then they fell into the start of a really quite nice relationship. Bruce wanders around the tower in Steve's sweaters, Steve sits in the lab to eat. They're more careful about the latter but only because there are a lot of chemicals in the lab that could be really harmful. Bruce loves it despite all the safeguarding that goes into making it happen.
SHIELD doesn't interfere.
Mostly because they keep all their dates in the tower, knowing they'll be followed to the movies or to a restaurant. They want it private, at least to start with. No one needs to know but them. When Bruce leans into Steve more often and they spend a lot more time together, no one seems to think anything of it.
They have movie nights and one-on-one dinners and play games together. Bruce wishes it could be more normal but he also thinks he might Hulk out and smash Clint if the man shows up for an actual date. The Hulk is in agreement, and Steve has said he can't promise that he'd stop Hulk from doing so. The look of actual remorse on Steve's face as he'd said that had sent Bruce into a fifteen minute long giggling fit.
Bruce stops writing so much. He still does, sometimes, mostly just finishing old stories. He feels too bad about leaving them abandoned and incomplete.
And he has better inspiration now, because Steve is actually dating him. Which on its own is truly insane. Bruce feels half like he's dreaming, sometimes, like he'll wake up with one hell of a story idea but also a lonely pang in his chest.
If he thinks about it too hard, though, Steve says it's obvious and kisses the thought away. Bruce doesn't mind. It's nice to have someone show him so much affection, to care about him so much, that they just noticed when he's in his head. That they can pull him out with a touch or two. That they actually want to do so.
It's inevitable, really, that they'd be figured out. But when Tony blearily looks between where Bruce and Steve are standing, with Bruce half pushed against the counter, Bruce can't help but burst out laughing. He'd been expecting dramatics, a mission gone wrong, some insane trope from a story. Not for him to be crowded against the counter with Steve pressing kisses to his neck while Tony comes marching in demanding coffee. He cackles against Steve's chest while the Captain attempts to defend their collective honour.
Tony doesn't listen to any of it. Steve makes him a pity coffee after Tony loudly demands that he's deeply traumatized after watching his science bro and best frenemy making out. Bruce rolls his eyes at the dramatics but Steve is softer than he seems.
Natasha seems to have just figured it out immediately. Thor announces that he is glad they have figured out their sexual tension, because he was getting rather sick of it. When asked how gay relationships are treated on Asgard, he frowns and says ‘why would we have a problem with that, Loki is a bit of everything and I'm not a man half the time’. Bruce doesn't ask for him to clarify because he's a little intimidated by the prospect of Thor explaining his sexual proclivities.
Clint…
Clint deserved all he got. Maybe it was Fury's fault that Clint got sent to serve as resident cock-block for their first proper date in a nice restaurant. But when Bruce's knuckles had started turning a bit green, Steve had sighed heavily, planted a kiss on his mouth right in front of Clint, and then told the man to ‘fuck off, please and thank you’.
In his defence, the man had done so.
It was a nice dinner.
Bruce didn't think Clint had gotten off too badly, but the way he'd told everyone else made it seem like he was threatened at knife point while the Hulk growled at him. He'd gotten a little green. None of his clothes had even ripped!
(The protests had come with laughter.)
It's soft. And special. To be so entirely connected and committed to a relationship he'd honestly been imagining for years. For longer than Steve had been out of the ice. It was a weird thought, but it was also the truth. Bruce thinks it's probably a bit strange, for Steve, that his partner had liked him so much before they'd even met. But then, Steve kissed him, that day.
It wasn't up to him.
Steve smiled at him and treated him like he meant everything. Like he loved him. Bruce would give the same back for as long as Steve would let him.
—
Excerpt of chapter 23 ‘Epilogue’ of ‘holds your heart in his hands’
The ceremony is small. Close friends only, really, which means the Avengers and some of your family. Steve’s best man, his best friend, recently recovered. Yours, Tony, already close to tears where he's stood.
“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Thor asks, reading from the cue cards he's been given. He's legally allowed to officiate, but he'd not been good at memorising the script so you'd written it down. You smile and squeeze Steve's hands in your own.
“I do.”
“And do you, Steven Rogerson, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” You hold back a watery laugh at Thor's chronic misunderstanding of Earth's naming customs.
“I do.” Steve repeats, and he smiles back at you.
“You may now kiss the groom!” Thor happily announces, and you grin at each other before you share your kiss at the altar. Everyone cheers, and you squeeze his hand tighter in your own.
You love him.
Notes:
It's been years, but here's an epilogue. Inspired by my wedding with my very own Steve, the love of my life.
I'm so glad you found this story, I'm so glad you liked it, and I'm so glad everything worked out with the two of us. I'll always wonder which of my lovely readers was you, and I'll always be somewhat confused as to how you figured out this was me.
I love you, my everything <3
—
Comment from FriendOfDorothy on ‘Epilogue’, ‘holds your heart in his hands’
I love you too, sweetheart <3
Reply from SuperSerumScientist
YOU WERE FRIENDOFDOROTHY??? Why am I not surprised in the slightest, you silly old man. <3