seekevolution | The Amulet

"I am. Mama Stark. To bed with you. After the sandwich because honestly, Banner, you're not eating in bed. That's how you get ants," he says, jumping down off of the counter. "J? Pep still in London?"

"She is until next Thursday, Sir," the AI informs him and Tony does exactly a ten second counter down in his head before he leans over Bruce.

"My room, fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. You really should shower."

Jealousy does not become him. It really, really doesn't.

Little surprise that Bruce is missing it entirely. He takes Tony's phobia in stride, going to deal with the whole of getting himself a proper meal if no other reason than Tony would not ride him about it, but equally as much as his stomach is starting to realize that it had been quite some time since a real meal had been a part of his life.

What did Pepper have to do with anything? Bruce looks up at Tony who is suddenly quite close, raising a brow at him before nodding. "Okay." It wouldn't take him much longer than that; some of that time in the Army never left him.

Not okay, never okay, but alas. Tony's already got his head on backwards and Mohinder Suresh doesn't get to win. He just doesn't.

Tony takes a shower too, though it's about a third as effect as usual. He's only given himself twenty minutes. That's really not enough time at all for a proper shower. These things happen.

Mohinder safely tucked away, Tony at least smelling nice, he waits for Bruce in a black tank top, soft pants and bare feet. No matter how bad of an idea this is, Tony likes the challenge. He can't help himself.

In just a touch under twenty minutes, there is a knock at the door. When Tony calls out, Bruce steps inside. It's about as easy going as Bruce ever looks - a pair of black sweat pants, a yellow tee shirt, and a gift from Pepper, a pair of LL Bean leather slippers that were impossibly soft on the inside.

He stops just inside the door, looking towards Tony with a hint of confusion. "Well, you asked for me to come, and here I am?"

Oh, the phrasing. Tony's just childish enough to laugh. "I asked you to nap. Sans white bread and mayo crumbs," Tony replies cheerfully, bright eyes and brighter smile as he flops down on his side of the bed. Pepper usually takes the other, but with the sky over Manhattan dark and the windows reflecting the big yellow thing that Bruce has become, Tony's not really all that sorry that he's replaced her for the moment.

He doesn't bother to get under the blankets. He doesn't have a goodnight glass of scotch. The television isn't on. There's no soft music in the background.

Guys are easier than women.

There's no need for romance. Mohinder might disagree.

Bruce's brows come together as he shifts his weight, his uncertainty showing. He does, however, take a step closer. "If you wanted me to nap, why did you ask me to come up here?"

Even a genius can miss putting two and two together when both the numbers and answer are in a foreign language. Maybe thankfully for Tony, Bruce wouldn't even know what to do with romance directed at him. He could try in the other direction, but even that might be doomed to fail.

"I want to keep an eye on you." No running off to your sweet Indian, Bruce. Mister Jealousy is not going to lose you to him. Not now. Not ever. He doesn't care how you may protest or what Mohinder might think otherwise. Tony lightly pats the bed and rolls over so he'll be facing the direction he wants Bruce to lay. "No late night sneaking. Let Suresh rest a little while. You can poke and prod him to your heart's content tomorrow."

Yes, they have two weeks but Tony can fudge the numbers and say they're starting tomorrow, so suck it, SHIELD.

Brows right up to his hairline, Bruce doesn't come a step closer. Tony wants him to come sleep with him? His mind doesn't even go as far as the other way that phrase could be used, but purely lay beside and try to sleep. Is it much different than falling asleep on the plane with him?

"You want to make sure he can't affect me?" Bruce takes Tony's words completely wrong, but it's enough to urge him to the side of the bed, though not laying down. The bed is huge, in his opinion, even for two people.

"Yeah, sort of." Bruce is...impossible. Hovering. Looking innocent. What the hell didn't Betty do right here? How could Bruce be so totally clueless, batting his eyelashes and-- "I won't bite." Though he does like to be bitten incidentally. "But I will get out the bondage gear and drag you into bed if I have to."

He's not joking. Don't check the closet. Pepper's gotten a little too into the whole whips and chains thing since Extremis turned her into a kick ass girlfriend.

Literally. Literally a kick ass girlfriend. He has bruises. She's so rough!

Betty, if you asked Bruce, had done everything right. He had been the one willing to give her up for her own safety. If things could have been different... well. If.

"I don't need to know your personal life, and Pepper probably wouldn't want me too, either." Bruce sits down slowly though, as if maybe Tony suddenly will leap at him, before he lies down with a wiggle under the covers. "JARVIS, please let me know if anything happens with Mohinder? If he's calling out or something is changing?"

"Of course, Doctor Banner."

"Satisfied?" Tony rolls his eyes at Bruce and watches his friend get uncomfortably comfortable. Bruce can't be this virginal. He just can't be. As Bruce curls in on himself, Tony does close the distance. He does put his arm around the other man. Banner's probably never been a little spoon before. But Tony's always on him anyway so this should be no different.

Bruce smells like sandalwood shampoo and Tony closes his eyes at the masculine scent and the thicker body in his arms.

The tensing is understood and in a way, also appreciated. He only sort of feels badly for this. Sort of. Bruce did tell him a few interesting things, though. That had just been one little kiss. Tony hadn't even tried all that hard at it!

"...Tony?" Quiet. Bruce lays there tensely in the clean scented sheets of Tony's bed, the faint smell of Tony's expensive bathing products over powering his usual scent that Bruce has learned well. "What are you doing?" Not that he's unused to Tony's odd tendency to touch him whenever possible, but this is pushing beyond where he's taken it before.

But it doesn't feel... bad, either. He can remember doing the reverse in that motel years ago, with Betty tucked up against him. Tony is warm at his back, and he's sure he must be quite a great deal warmer against Tony. Though with Pepper and her... ah, issues, the temperature of her body increased so perhaps Tony's gotten used to it--

That isn't the point!

"It's called spooning. I'm getting you those old sex ed films from the fifties to explain this stuff to you, Banner," Tony says, his breath tickling the curls at the back of Bruce's neck. Pepper's a little too warm to hold, not because Tony doesn't like it, but because she can't stay cool enough to let him sleep so close. She always sleeps over the covers, AC blaring. It's nice to have a little human...or not so human...contact.

And besides, just what harm is this doing? Answer: Nothing at all.

"Relax. You can't get pregnant this way, Myrtle."

Bruce gets something he rarely does anymore - goosebumps. They ripple down his arms and he stretches out a little bit to try and settle the odd feeling. The question of humanity is very dependent on who you even ask about Bruce.

"I'm male, I know I can't get pregnant." But there is a very quiet laugh somewhere in his voice, a nervous laugh, but he's trying to deal with this. Tony must just be pushing at him again. There's no danger like this; the Other Guy is quiet inside and Mohinder's reaching should be out of distance.

"Give science time. I'm sure you can get pregnant one day. Never lose hope," he teases, hand flat on Bruce's stomach. Tony shifts his thigh against the backs of Bruce's and tucks his knees into the curve of the other's. He's missed physical contact from one of his deemed 'safe' sources.

No wonder Mohinder's been crazy for Bruce... He's really a good guy and remarkably cuddly. Is that from all the body hair?

Give Tony a moment and he'll work his cool fingers up the inside of that horrible yellow t-shirt, cool digits on overly warm skin.

Even with Betty, though he had held her close, it was never this level of closeness. Tony seems determined to get in close in every inch he can- ah his fingers are cold! This only works at all because of their relatively similar heights.

He wants to protest, wants to run, yet even as he lays there, Tony going still against his back, Bruce takes stock of the situation and finds it surprisingly... quiet. No increased heart rate, no possible issues, only a quietness in his mind and body. Maybe it isn't so bad, then? He could try to sleep like this, with the octopus known as Tony Stark.

Would Suresh hold you? Yeah, Tony's having make believe conversations now as he feels Bruce sink in against him. There's almost a sense of vindication which, of course, is definitely the wrong way to go about this whole thing. Caring for Bruce is not a competition.

Tony just has never learned how to properly share anything in his life. Not even friends.

As Bruce begins to drift, muscles relaxing, breathing evening out, Tony presses his lips to the back of his neck, thereby ruining everything calm and wonderful about cuddle time.

You know the answer to your own question, Stark. Mohinder would have given nearly anything to be in the position you're in right now.

That motion pulls Bruce from the sleep he's heading towards, but at first, he isn't even sure why. Everything is still quiet and still around him, Tony is there- wait. Tony... he can feel Tony's breath right against the back of his neck again, making tension start to coil back through him again. Is Tony asleep...?

Sleeping people might sometimes have jerky motions, might sometimes paw at bedmates, but nothing like this. Smooth, gentle strokes up Bruce's stomach and chest lead to fingers curling in chest hair. Tony's breathing is much too fast for a man sleeping too, and perhaps for one even at rest. The tip of his nose nudges at the back of one of Bruce's ears and his hips rock slightly forward to close any lingering distance between them.

He'll speak, because he's not the sort to do anything to another person under pretense. Just give him a moment.

"Are you awake?" Hopefully the answer is yes.

Under Tony's fingers, there are little flutters of muscles that Bruce's mind starts naming as they react. Along his belly, under the breast bone, the flat expanse over the pectoral. Bruce lies infinitely still otherwise, his mind trying to focus on each little place their bodies touch, wanting to catalog each and tuck it away so it could be remembered far beyond the right now.

"Yes." Very quiet, barely even a movement of his lips. Where Tony's skin grazes the back of his ear, Bruce actually sucks in a breath audibly. One hand digs into the sheets and holds on like he very well might fly away if he let go.

Tony's good at reading people. He's had to be, you can't do business unless you're willing to learn how people work and what each little tilt of the head, narrowing of the eye, or change of breath could signal in negotiations. Having someone in your bed is just an extension of the same. Where the roadmap will lead depends on careful analysis of direction and speed and the gas in the engine. You have to learn to read the map, and interpret it correctly to get anywhere.

It takes only a little effort on Tony's part to move back, for Bruce's weight to immediately fill the void his own had left. The drop of Bruce's shoulder allows Tony to lean over it. To study Bruce's face. If all signals are green, or even halfway there, Tony will go for it, a kiss a little less intense than the last one.

At first.

Tony can't help himself if everything ramps up quickly.

Bruce knows a very clinical look at reading people; it takes a careful, knowing eye to be able to read issues in the slight off-gait of someone's walk, the movement of the chest indicating difficulty breathing, the droop of a muscle indicating possible issues of the cranial nerve. Everything else in his life has pulled him away from the more social norms of being able to read people and even on top of that, Tony Stark is a confusing, difficult man to begin with.

Bruce's eyes meet Tony's as he lies there, but he remembers this. This sudden closeness, the warm yet directed look into Tony's eyes, the shift of his hand up to capture-

And there it is. That sudden warmth and faint wetness that leaves Bruce still, Tony completely in control of the kiss. Bruce's eyes do slide closed though, one hand still clinging for dear life, but unlike the utterly unexpected kiss last time, he manages to bring his other hand up and somewhat awkwardly slide over Tony's shoulder, gripping there instead. He can feel the roughness of stubble against beard, suddenly, oddly, a little grateful he hadn't bothered to shave just yet.

Yep. Winner. Ding ding ding, it's Tony Stark. There's no triumphant fist bump or anything to callous but Tony does enjoy a small smile crushed against Bruce's mouth before shifting more of his weight over onto the other man. The hand still on his chest curls a bit, the feel of manicured fingernails gently pressing into skin as his lips part and teeth and tongue do what they do best.

Well. Best after talking.

There's really no denying just how much Tony enjoys Bruce-- His mouth, his presence, his heat. They fit together. They should be together...at least as much as Bruce is able. Tony doesn't want to share this.

Perhaps there should be the feeling of panic, and well, okay, maybe there is the faint urge to run somewhere in the crazy mix of feelings Bruce has running through him right now, but it's a surprisingly small feeling in the wake of everything else happening in that moment. Maybe it's part of what Mohinder had started the other night, a strange form of awakening towards what this sort of affection could feel like without being on the edge of bolting.

Now, instead, there is every urge to capture that small feeling again, the one in the center of his chest. It's both terrifying and intoxicating, and Bruce, for a moment, forgets about pushing it away and pulling back. He had nearly gotten there with Betty when his warning-alarm had stopped them, but it had been silenced some time ago.

Now, he lets himself go, just a little bit. There's no experience here, but his chin lifts just a touch, trying, learning, even as his head spins.

It's all right to let go. Even if Tony isn't sure where this is going, he can fake it and figure it out later. Or crash and burn. Either way, it's going to be a whole lot of fun!

There's no part of him that regrets this. Guilt will probably happen a little later, when his hands stop roaming and Pepper emails or calls him in a harrowed fashion tomorrow about her meeting. But for now, Tony's motto is simple: Enjoy.

And oh. Oh, he's very much enjoying, slowly trying to tug off Bruce's shirt.

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