Bruce
Bruce enters the common room of the Avengers Tower to see Tony and Pepper sitting on the kitchen counter, criss-crossed, with a foot-high high plate of waffles between them, eating and chatting happily. They turn to face the elevator looking like kids getting caught stealing out of the cookie jar and Tony seems very-very-annoyed that he has suddenly shown up.
“Hey,” he offers nervously, wondering if he should just go downstairs and find some breakfast on the streets of New York.
“Hey Bruce,” Pepper says with a smile, getting off the counter gracefully and he notices she’s wearing nothing but what he’s assuming are Tony’s light grey boxers and baby blue button up shirt, now definitely feeling uncomfortable. But she doesn’t seem to; her expression is welcoming as she brushes her long hair out of her face, completely makeup free and so...natural. Sure, it’s a little inappropriate that the shirt’s unbuttoned one or two too low, but with the sleeves rolled up and bare feet, Bruce can’t think of a time when he’s ever seen the CEO of Stark Industries so relaxed. “You want something to eat?”
“Um-honey, get back here-we were having a nice breakfast,” Tony says accusingly to her back as she opens the fridge. “The Green Machine can find something on his own.”
“Tony,” she warns and Bruce thinks it’s funny how he looks like a kid who’s been scolded by his mother. “Bruce, don’t let him...be him and chase you out-” she gives Tony another glare as he declares “I resent that statement!” before continuing “-have some breakfast. The fridge is stocked for the first time in months.” She opens the door wider to show him the selection and she’s not kidding; what shelves usually hold a few boxes of take out and cans of soda now have deli meats, an assortment of juices, a large carton of eggs, all sorts of vegetables, some mixed fruit cups, a few bottles of water, salad dressings, other condiments, and milk.
“I really shouldn’t-”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bruce, stay and eat something,” she says, her warm smile making him approach the fridge and look closer at what’s inside.
Behind him, he can hear Tony arguing, pleading, with her to kick him out so they can finish their morning together and he thinks it’s cute-in an endearing way-how much his persona changes around her. Normally, he’s the most egotistical man in the universe; to Tony Stark, Tony Stark was the number one priority. But around Pepper, his own importance was bumped down a few notches and she was placed above him in priority, making her the center of his world. He followed her like a lost puppy would follow the person who takes them off the streets; unable to believe someone cared so much about them that they stayed by said person’s side with undying loyalty.
Bruce decides on eggs, taking the carton, butter, and milk out before rummaging through the cabinets and drawers for a pan, a whisk, a knife, and a measuring cup. As he’s preparing his food, he absentmindedly listens to their banter and wonders if it’s always like this, or if they’re just exceptionally witty today.
“I can’t stay here all week,” she’s saying as she stands next to Tony while he sits on the counter, eating small bites of waffle between her remarks.
“Sure you can. You’re choosing not to.”
“Why do you think I came to New York?”
“To see me, obviously,” he says with an ‘uh, duh’ tone.
“Cute, but only half correct. There’s business to do here that I can’t do at home.”
“But you just got here, babe, you haven’t even-you got here at what? Ten last night? It’s been less than twelve hours.” His voice is so whiny and desperate that Bruce almost laughs; he sounds like a little kid about to throw a tantrum because their mother won’t buy them the toy they want in a store.
“Today’s meeting is extremely important, Tony, and I’d love it if you went.”
“And I’d love it if you didn’t have to go,” he counters.
“Well, I’m sorry that I feel the need to show up when the UN sends council members to meet with us,” comes the smart ass response and Bruce snorts in amusement as he pours the now-whisked eggs onto the frying pan.
“Make someone else sit in and take notes.”
“I would, but my co-CEO has a 100% chance of not making it to the meeting,” she says, her tone playful rather than biting. Bruce isn’t sure how long they’ve been together, or known each other, but she’s obviously become numb to his blatant irresponsibility and holier-than-thou personality.
“What percent chance does you co-CEO have of joining you in the shower before you leave this morning?” There’s the unmistakable sound of him getting slapped in the chest, which he yells out a laughing “Ow!” at, before he must kiss her because both go suspiciously quiet for a second.
“I’d say a 12% chance,” she responds, and it must be some kind of an inside joke between them because he incredulously exclaims “One time!”
They’re silent for a beat before he asks quietly, obviously having given up on convincing her not to go, “When do you have to leave?”
“Noon. The meeting’s at one.”
“So we have two hours,” his voice is more muffled, and Bruce takes a quick glance over his shoulder to see that he’s kissing her cheek, his arm around her waist as she stands between his legs, still working on the mountain of waffles.
“It takes me at least an hour to get ready.”
“Just wear what you’ve got on.”
“Absolutely not.”
Tony laughs because she sounds so goddamn adamant and Bruce hears her squeal at something Stark does as he says, “I don’t see why not-it’s a great outfit...these underwear alone probably cost more than everything Bruce's wearing.”
“Tony-” She threatens but he can hear the smile in her voice.
“What?!” His voice rises in pitch and it’s playful-sweet-not snarky or condescending like how he talks to Steve or Thor. “I think they’re Burberry-c’mere, let me see them closer.” Bruce shuts the stove off and turns around right in time to see Pepper slip out of Tony’s grasp, his hands trying to grab the waistband of her-his-underwear and look at the label.
“Do you need any help?” She asks, resting her hand on Bruce’s arm as she looks at the pan of scrambled eggs.
“No, I’m good,” he assures, even though she begins to get a plate for him, her shirt riding a bit and he ignores the way Tony’s staring at her backside. “Do you want any?” He asks as he thanks her for getting the plate.
“She’s good,” Tony answers for her, his eyes practically rolling back into his throat when Clint walks in. “The first day in-what? a billion?-that Pepper’s here and everyone’s coming to eat breakfast with us.”
“Good morning to you, too, Stark,” Clint says, rubbing the bags under his eyes as he looks around. “Coffee?”
“The pods are in that bowl,” Pepper points at a bowl by the Keurig.
“Thanks,” he mumbles tiredly, shuffling over to the other side of the kitchen. The three of them knew that Natasha had been sent on a highly classified mission nearly two weeks ago and Clint hadn’t slept well since she left, but none of them were going to bring it up at that moment.
“Do you really have to go?” Tony asks, his voice borderline desperate as he plays with the collar of the shirt Pepper’s wearing. “Please stay here, it’s so much better here when you're around.”
“If you have such severe separation anxiety, Tony, you should just come with me,” she says as she grabs hold of the hand messing with her shirt, intertwining their fingers. “One of us has to be there and we both know it’s not going to be you.”
“Maybe I will go, Miss Potts, just to prove you wrong.”
She laughs, a sweet sound that makes Tony grin like an idiot in love, as she says, “Yeah and maybe I’ll also start sleeping in and not doing work. Bruce, Clint, do either one of you want these waffles? I’m full.”
“Hey!” He exclaims, pretend hurt marring his features. “I made those for you and-”
“Oh please, you took them out of the Eggo box and put them in the toaster. Clint?” She holds the plate up and he eyes the waffles for a second before taking them with a “Thanks, Pep” and a quick, harmless kiss on the cheek. The two were close because Pepper and Natasha were close, and Natasha and Clint were close, so they indirectly knew all about the other before they'd even officially met.
“Legolas, lips to yourself,” Tony scolds, making an exasperated sound of shock when the archer gives him the middle finger. “Pepper-”
“For the love of God, stop whining about everything.”
“Well that’s a little hypocritical, considering you’re whining about my whining,” he says before he meets her eyes, the hard look she’s giving him making him sit up straight. “Sorry ma’am.” Clint laughs, making a ‘whipped’ motion and sound, getting Tony to glare at him before turning back to Pepper. “What do you want for dinner?”
“I don’t know, honey, I just ate,” she says, standing between his legs again, her fingers combing through his hair soothingly and he leans into her touch, like a dog getting scratched behind the ears. “Do you have something in mind?”
“Oh, I’ve got a lot of things in mind right now,” he murmurs, giving her a quick kiss before his hand comes to rest on her hip.
“Is going to the meeting one of them?” She asks teasingly.
“Would there be a special reward for going?” He asks mischievously and Clint groans in disgust, making Pepper’s face turn a cute shade of pink; she’d obviously momentarily forgotten about their audience.
“We’ll negotiate later,” she says reassuringly, patting his chest before she steps out of his embrace as Steve walks in, the small sound of protest from Tony being ignored.
“Okay-we never-ever-all eat breakfast together and suddenly, it’s happening? Did you guys plan this?” He asks, annoyance and exasperation evident in his voice as Steve looks around the kitchen, obviously unsure of what to make of Pepper’s appearance. In the 1940s, Bruce is fairly certain that it wasn’t a common occurrence for a woman to be lounging around in her boyfriend’s underwear with a bunch of guys after a night of premarital sex, and Steve’s flustered, awkward expression confirms his hypothesis.
“We just like Pepper a lot more than you,” Clint says, his mouth full of waffles and he gives her a playful wink when she smiles at him.
Steve seems to get over the shock of her in such casual clothing and he opens the fridge, asking, “Who restocked this?”
“Me.”
“I did.”
Tony and Pepper answer simultaneously, looking at the other like they’d lost their mind.
“It was my idea,” he says, looking at Steve seriously. “I thought we’d need food.”
“I went shopping and bought everything.” Her eye roll has been perfected over the years of her being around Tony and it’s so exasperated yet affectionate that Bruce thinks it’s more of a compliment than an insult. Sort of like “you’re an absolute moron, but I love you.”
“It’s fine, I just-” Steve looks between the two, not used to a couple fighting so much “-it’s not normally full.”
“Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee?” Pepper offers sweetly, knowing Steve still isn’t always sure how to operate the new machines of the 21st century. He’d once quietly suffered all day through a caffeine withdrawal headache when he couldn’t make himself a cup of coffee because he didn’t know how to add more water to the Keurig and he didn’t want to bother anyone.
“I think he can manage, Pep,” Tony says, but Pepper assures Steve, “Ignore him, he’s moody today because I’m going to work.”
“Ma’am, no offense, but he’s moody all the time,” Steve says, a soft humility around the words and he eases considerably when she grins knowingly, getting a mug out of the cabinet.
“You’ll get used to it,” she says as she gets a pod and turns the coffee machine on, waiting patiently as it hisses and begins pouring coffee.
“How long does it take?”
“Well for me it took...about nine years.”
“I’m right here,” Tony calls, distracted by a loose thread on his sweatpants, but his whining falls on deaf ears. “And don’t lie, Pep, you’ve been in love with this fine piece of ass since day one.”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “Right.”
Sometimes, Bruce wasn’t sure what was actually keeping them together; their personalities didn’t mesh at all and they bickered constantly, although it was more of a playful flirting banter than legitimate arguments. And the difference between him and her was astounding-Pepper was easily one of the sweetest, most responsible, caring people on the planet and yet she picked...Tony. He wasn’t a really bad guy-except for the fact that 90% of the time he was an arrogant jerk-but he certainly didn’t deserve her, either. Probably the best part was that Tony knew-he knew Pepper was light years out of his league and he held on to her tight, making him more grounded when she was around.
Their relationship had no right to work as well as it did, for as often as they fought about quite literally everything, but the fact that it worked at all was solid, empirical proof that both truly, genuinely loved the other more than anyone knew.
As Pepper waits for Steve’s coffee to be poured, she begins running her fingers through her long hair, wincing as they get tangled in knots before quickly-quicker than any woman he’s ever seen do it before, at least-braiding it in a single braid down her back, getting stuck at the end when she realizes she doesn’t have anything to tie it with.
“Tony-pass me that rubber band,” she says, eyes narrowing when he doesn’t move to get it. “Please.”
“Put your hair down, honey,” he says, his voice adopting an odd tone; slightly warning and a little shocked.
“What? Pass me that-”
“Believe me, put your hair down,” he hops off the counter and says something lowly in her ear-something that makes her turn bright pink-but it’s a second too late.
“Miss Potts, you have a-” Steve begins, only to be cut off by a wholly embarrassed “I know” from Pepper, who is now glaring daggers at Tony as she lets her hair out of its braid, one hand covering something on her neck that her hair already hides. “That looks serious, are you okay?” Steve’s concern is palpable and Bruce puts two and two together, figuring there’s a hickey on her neck and Steve’s innocent, virgin self hasn’t figured it out.
“Yeah-I must’ve-” she gives Tony a pointed look, sheepishly continuing “...hit it on something…”
“Yeah, someone’s lips,” Clint scoffs quietly into his plate, obviously having arrived at the same conclusion as Bruce, but no one seems to hear him.
“He did this?” Steve asks, gently, almost as if he’s concerned for her, obviously interpreting her glances at Tony and the hesitant tone incorrectly. “Did he hurt-”
“No I didn't hurt her, you stupid test tube baby,” Tony says, his tone biting and protective and Bruce knows Steve crossed a line; Tony was an unbearable asshole but he would never hurt someone he loved.
“There’s a bruise on your neck,” he says, glaring at Tony like he believes he was actually capable of hurting Pepper. “How did it get-”
“You don’t want the answer to that,” Clint cuts in, trying to break the tension in the room that had been easygoing and relaxed less than a minute ago. “Steve, trust me, everything’s fine.”
“Steve,” Pepper begins, her voice reassuring, soothing his concern. “It’s-I’m fine, Tony didn’t-wouldn’t-hurt me.”
“Then why-”
“It’s called a hickey,” Tony spits out, annoyance and exasperation evident in his tone. “Given that we had tons of sex last night, it’s expected to happen.” His statement makes Pepper flush bright red, covering her face with her hands for a second. “Do you know anything about bedroom activities, Captain Chastity?”
“I-” Steve stops, seeming to realize that Tony is most definitely angry at him for the accusations and Pepper was wholeheartedly wishing he had never even brought up the bruise. “I’m sorry-the-”
“I’m going to go take a shower,” Pepper mumbles, clearly horrified at the entire situation because she doesn’t even look back to say goodbye to anyone, moving the elevator quickly in her bare feet.
“I’ll help you!” Tony calls, running after her, making it in the elevator just as it closes, managing to miss setting off the sensors and the last image the three see of them is her beginning to point an accusatory finger at him, his downright devilish smirk, and his arm sneaking around her waist.
The three guys are quiet for a second before Steve, profoundly confused, asks, “Why would she need help in the shower?”