Work Text:
Bruce knew that Jane and Darcy were up to something - the sort of something that, if they were all in a movie, would be cut and presented as a montage set to that one Adele song Thor had taken a real liking to.* There were the glances they kept exchanging, how they leaned, clearly conspiratorial, over coffee or lunch. The pretense over getting them to go for the Thai food, Jane stumbling over her words. How Jane had kicked him, at dinner, when Tony indicated that he wanted to keep Bruce around because he wasn’t a typical scientist. And then, of course, the comment Jane made in the lab the next morning - this would be when the song faded out, and things cut back to the action - “Well, then, you’re just going to have to find someone who’s interested in you for your genius.” She looked at Bruce, pointedly, while Tony cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Jane, seemingly oblivious.
He wanted to pull her aside and tell her he appreciated the effort, but did they really think he hadn’t been trying? Tony Stark was being frustrating, oblivious, and, according to what he had gleaned from a conversation he might have overheard Pepper having on the phone with her mother, or perhaps a female friend - he hadn’t meant to overhear, but it was relevant to his interests, and he couldn’t stop himself - behaving in a way that was maddeningly typical.
There wasn’t much that could be done - though it was sweet, it really was.
Then the movie happened, and was over, and Bruce decided that they did know what they were doing when he woke up to a grumbling sound, followed by Tony stating, “I want you to know, I am never the little spoon.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered?” Bruce asked. There were several ways to take that comment, but considering that he was a) naked and b) playing the role of the big spoon, it seemed that slight, but well-intentioned and loving sarcasm was the best way to play things. He knew Tony was sensitive about his height. He had seen the disguised lifts in his shoes.
“Yes,” Tony murmured, and wiggled into him. “Sort of. I am a little annoyed. Though you are very comfortable.”
“I do what I can,” Bruce replied. His hand was placed near Tony’s sternum, and tentatively, he began to move it down.
“Why Dr. Banner,” Tony murmured, and placed his own hand over Bruce’s and moved it further, allowing Bruce to linger over his stomach, and then the trail of hair leading down from his naval, and finally, to his erection. Bruce smiled, leaned forward, and put his face on Tony’s shoulder.
“You smell...good,” he said. Tony had a strong grip - iron grap, haha - on his hand, maintaining it over his erection and not allowing Bruce to move.
“That’s because I smell like sex. With you,” Tony replied, and he turned his head so Bruce could kiss him - hard, deep, the kiss he’d been thinking about for the past month now.
A kiss facilitated by an astrophysicist who dated a possible Norse deity, a recent political science graduate, possibly the saddest movie moment Bruce had ever seen, and, now that Bruce was thinking about it, Barton. They’d been engaging in an unspoken troll-off since the archer had arrived, and this would be-
Tony squeezed Bruce’s hand, let go, and then rolled so that they were facing each other. He stroked Bruce’s hair, and gave him a soft, almost sweet smile that would certainly ruin all the reputations Tony had cultivated if the wider public knew he was capable of such a gesture. Tony flicked his hips, aligning their cocks, and Bruce sighed, content. “Your turn, I think,” Tony murmured.
* * *
He approached Darcy’s movie night with slight trepidation. He liked her - she was adaptable, she handled everything that got tossed at her, she had a good sense of humor and was a repository of pop culture knowledge. But, at that point, aware of her machinations, he feared some romantic comedy - Bridget Jones’ Diary, with Betty curling into him and running her fingers through his hair and telling him how glad she was to have found her Mr. Darcy - or some indie flick or, somehow possibly worse, the latest epic movie it was determined essential for Thor and Steve to view - a sign that she, too, had given up.
He caught Steve tearing up over the opening moments of the movie and didn’t blame him. Bruce was pretty much done for when the couple got married, and when the doctor’s office scene hit he did his best to hold back - and, somehow, he felt the Hulk back where he had been tucked away, responding to his emotions, and he had to focus on longing, not loss. Somehow, as he inhaled and exhaled, he and Tony had fallen towards one another, their shoulders touching, and he could sense tension in Tony.
Bruce was usually over analytical about these things, but by the end of the montage, he felt raw and he needed some contact to remind him, to soothe - and so he reached for Tony’s hand and clutched it hard. Tony glanced at him, cocked his head slightly, and squeezed his hand.
Like teenagers, tentatively testing each other at a movie their parents had driven them and a group of their paired off friends to, they did not let go the entire time.
After, Thor said something - Thor was so dependable, in that regard - and Tony replied, still holding Bruce’s hand. Steve and Darcy were talking about something, just between the two of them - Bruce couldn’t imagine the impact the movie had on Steve - and it was Clint who broke things up. “OK, Coulson, it’s past your bedtime,” he said, standing from the chair he had sunk into and heading over to Coulson’s wheelchair. “Nurse Lauren says you’re not getting enough sleep-”
“She shouldn’t be talking to you about my...care,” Coulson said, glancing up at Clint warily. “I am certain I never signed off on any communication with you.”
“Oh, no, of course not,” Clint said. “I just had JARVIS read my your chart.” He kicked at the brake on the wheelchair and leaned in to converse with Coulson as he took him to his room.
Thor and Jane up, Thor patting Jane’s head tenderly. Then Darcy and Steve, and Natasha, and it was just Tony and Bruce, sitting on the couch, still holding hands. Bruce was almost afraid that it was some kind of spell - so contrary to his normal way of thinking, which he decided only emphasized his desire, his fear of rejection - and that if they let go, it would break the delicate thing between them.
“Huh,” said Tony when he turned to look at Bruce. “JARVIS, dim the lights - 70%.”
Bruce furrowed his brow as the lights dimmed and Tony kept looking at him. “Oh, I see. That was your way of telling me how you feel.”
“I thought you were a quick study, Bruce,” Tony said, and he leaned in closer to Bruce and raised his eyebrows at him. There was a lot that Bruce could say, right then, because he thought he had been - or he had attempted, at least, to express his interest after the great break-up of 2012. Instead, he closed the distance between them and kissed Tony. He took his hand away and clasped it behind Tony’s head, working his fingers through the short hair back there.
Bruce pulled Tony to the side, slightly, and opened his mouth and moved against his tongue. He set the rhythm, both of them getting increasingly tangled with each other as contact between the two of them increased. At some point, Tony balled up some of Bruce’s shirt in his hand and pushed Bruce down, into the couch, so Tony was on top of him.
When Tony pulled away, his facial hair tickled, and Bruce grinned. “What? This is isn’t funny,” Tony said, pouting slightly. “Now I’m even more pissed we haven’t done this sooner, knowing you kiss like that.”
“I-” Bruce shook his head, chastising himself. There was no point - despite the whiteboard filled with detailed calculations, diagrams, and exclamation points after an evening of very old, very good Scotch, neither of them had figured out time travel. “Well.” He had been pinned by Tony, and so he moved the only part of his body that had range of movement and arched his hips right into Tony’s. “Well...”
“Don’t be so surprised,” Tony said. “You can’t play that game with me, anymore, you know, you know that every time you pull those glasses off, when you get that goofy smile...”
Bruce did not, but Tony seemed quite convinced that all of these things were quite attractive, and it was certainly counter-productive to get into a discussion with him now - or, ever, really - about his own feelings. So Bruce arched his hips again.
“See? You know,” Tony said, and this time as they kissed he ceded control to Tony - and it was a little more rough, and a little more needy. Tony trailed a hand down Bruce’s side and then began to work at the buttons on his shirt.
“On the couch?” Bruce asked, as Tony kissed slowly down his neck.
“Goodness, Dr. Banner, haven’t you heard of foreplay?” Tony had his hand under Bruce’s shirt and was slowly, achingly, massaging his nipple. “An ancient skill, practiced across many cultures - some you might have visited, on your travels-”
“I’m just not keen to walk to your bedroom shirtless.” Bruce mumbled.
“Bruce.” Tony pulled his hand out of his shirt and shook his head slightly, and looked like he was going to say something - no, Bruce knew exactly what he was going to say, which was something about how everyone had seen Bruce naked - but then quickly realized from Bruce’s face that it was the sort of thing that kids these days called a buzz kill. “See? Even modesty, on you, is...”
He climbed off the couch and offered Bruce his hand. Bruce clasped it and allowed himself to be lifted. Tony grinned at him. There was no way to do this, gracefully, Bruce decided - it was a very long way to Tony’s suite to kiss and stumble the entire way, and so they both seemed to settle into a brusque walk.
“Oh, and JARVIS?” Tony said, as they made it down the hallway, “Delete the footage from the account - no doubt Barton’s going to look for it, later.”
“I didn’t realize Agent Barton was shipping the two of you,” JARVIS replied. “It’s taken care of, sir.”
“I get worried, the fact that he knows what shipping is...” Tony said.
“You really do have security cameras everywhere. That could be a real potential abuse of power-” Bruce said, and then found himself being pushed through an open door. He hadn’t realized they were so close.
“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake...” Tony hummed, taking off his own shirt as Bruce backed towards the bed.
“Oh, no, please,” he said. “When I was a kid...I was so...” he shook his head, and Tony nodded.
“My mother used to sing it to me when I was bad - well, all the time, really, to remind me,” Tony said. “I would get so angry...” Somehow, this led to Tony pushing Bruce down onto the bed and standing between his legs. He kissed him, hard, this time, and Bruce moved backwards so that Tony could be on top of him once more.
Bruce shivered, slightly, as the cool metal of the arc reactor went against his chest. Tony pulled upwards, slightly, and placed his hand over it. “Apologies,” he said. “This might be an appropriate moment to inquire-”
“No,” Bruce said.
“Oh,” Tony said, and furrowed his brow.
“By which I mean, yes, you can fuck me,” Bruce replied, and put his hand over the one Tony was using to warm the metal the reactor. Tony cocked his head at this and a grin spread across his face that was both pleased and a little wicked - still on the Christmas theme, Bruce thought it recalled the Grinch in his early stages of plotting an end to all of the holiday joy in Whoville.
“Is that what you like, Bruce?” Tony asked, and he sat up and got both his hands working on the rest of Bruce’s shirt.
“I’m...I like both,” he managed, as Tony went back to work on his nipple with one hand and used the other to work through his chest hair. “But I want you to - it’s been-” Before he could say anything else, Tony was back to kissing him, and Bruce sighed into it. This was going to work, he thought, because Tony understood.
He rolled them, so he was on top and could remove his shirt. Tony began to undo Bruce’s pants, and then his own. “Are we going to try and do this, incidentally, gracefully, or just take a moment and get rid of them?” he asked. Bruce shook his head, moved off of Tony, and removed his pants as Tony did the same.
Tony had a hand over his cock almost instantaneously, and Bruce moaned. “I didn’t take you for boxer briefs, Dr. Banner,” he said, rubbing his hand hard while Bruce put his head on Tony’s shoulder.
“You bought them for me,” Bruce said, and kissed at Tony’s neck, then along his clavicle.
“It didn’t mean you were going to wear them,” Tony replied, and he pressed against Bruce’s chest and got him into the nest of pillows. He pulled the briefs off, and then shrugged out of his off. Bruce didn’t do anything for a moment because he wanted to take Tony in - the dim light of the reactor against his chest, his lean, hard muscle, his cock, the dent at his hipbones...
“You’re gorgeous,” he said, voice soft, not sure if it was appropriate. He hadn’t been lying, with what he had almost said. Tony quirked a smile and straddled Bruce, aligning their cocks and swiveling his hips.
“You too,” he said, hands tangling in Bruce’s chest hair while his tongue flicked at one nipple, and then the other. “Drawer,” he said, as he switched.
Bruce applied the lube to his hand and then fisted the two of them, keeping his hand gentle, and then he moved solely to Tony, concentrating on his head, a finger trailing down the bulging vein, then cupping his balls, massaging the space between. “Fuck, Bruce,” Tony said, and Bruce kissed him, again, hard, and sucked at his neck as he continued.
“Tony. Please.”
They maintained contact - mouths, hands on each other - and Bruce found himself in Tony’s lap, a hand trailing down his spine. “Do you know how badly I want this - want you, right now?” Tony asked, finger merely pressing.
“I think so,” Bruce replied, a hand on Tony’s chest and another wrapped around him. Tony pressed in slowly, circled around the tight ring of muscle, and then moved to just that first knuckle.
“You’re perfect, Bruce, fuck, you’re...” Tony put his hand on Bruce’s cock, and Bruce sighed. It was what he wanted, certainly, but it was also uncomfortable, no matter how slow and careful Tony was being.
“Tony - there!” he said, suddenly, arching forward. Tony grinned, eyes hooded, as Bruce bit at his lip. He hit the spot, over and over, crooking his finger until Bruce was burning and he was burning.
“Really? That works for you?”
“Tony-” Bruce began, and then shook his head, because really, had he expected anything else? It was exactly what he had signed up for. He laughed, slightly, and Tony seemed to appreciate this. “More,” he said.
“Sure?” Bruce nodded, and for some reason the stretch of two almost felt better, because he felt full, because he could imagine that it was Tony and he had been waiting, and... “Oh, you’re so good...” Tony purred, really purred, and Bruce shivered from it. He was kissing Tony lightly, where he could - face, lips, shoulders, and shuddering at his touch on other parts of body.
“That feels, oh...” Bruce said, and he clenched against Tony’s fingers.
“Is that a preview?” Tony asked.
“Yes - just - keep,” Bruce managed, and Tony used his other hand to pull Bruce’s face up so he could meet him with a full kiss. Then he added the next finger and worked as carefully as he had all along. When he was ready, Bruce reached and grabbed Tony’s arm.
“Yeah?”
“Very.”
Bruce moved off and laid back into the pillows, giving Tony the chance to slick his cock. He moved his legs backward as Tony moved forward on his knees, holding himself. “You have no idea how...hot-” Tony said, and Bruce just moved his head to the side slightly as Tony entered him.
“Oh, fuck,” he murmured, because he had forgot, exactly, and to be reminded like this was perfect. He put his legs on Tony’s shoulders and sighed as Tony pressed in and out, each time deeper, stretching him slowly. “Tony - oh,” he said, mouth opening as more and more of him was filled.
“You feel so good,” Tony said. “You feel so perfect, damn, Bruce,” Tony said, and remained still when he had bottomed out. Bruce met his eyes, and smiled. “See, you do know,” Tony said, brushing his cheek. “That smile, the shy one - you know perfectly well-”
“Focus, Tony,” Bruce said, smiling, and arched his hips as Tony moved out, almost all the way, and then in again. His thrusts were long, deep, and Bruce used his legs to draw Tony closer. Tony shifted, as well, and somewhere on the next few stokes they aligned, and Bruce moaned - deep, wanton, the sort of sound you didn’t want to make when you were vaguely aware that there was a security camera around. “Oh, god, Tony, fuck, just like that...” he said.
Tony was able to kiss him, then, and it only increased the pressure against him. Tony’s hand found his cock and began to stroke, light at first and then in rhythm with his thrusts, and Bruce clenched against him in kind. The build was slow, strong, and soon he was digging fingers into Tony’s hips and urging him, harder, faster-
“Bruce - oh. Oh!” Tony said, and Bruce pulled away from the kiss so he could suck on his bottom lip. Tony made a noise in the back of his throat, and Bruce was close, so close, when Tony came. Warmth spread through him and he closed his eyes to feel it more intimately. “Oh, god. Bruce,” Tony said, and he slid a thumb up Bruce’s cock and easily took him the last few strokes he needed.
Tony pulled back, and Bruce put his legs down - more involuntarily, then anything, and he certainly wasn’t capable of much else. They remained together for a minute, maybe longer, and then Tony pulled out and was quickly at his side. “I like your hair,” he said. “I like that it’s curly.”
“Thanks,” said Bruce, turning so he could kiss Tony. “I made it myself.”
“I think we should take this moment, and this moment only, to chastise ourselves for not having done that a lot sooner, and then never speak of our mutual remorse over that again,” Tony said. “Agreed?” Bruce nodded, and Tony moved so that their noses were touching. “Because, fuck, Bruce, that was.”
“It was,” Bruce agreed. Tony grinned at him - playful, this time. Peaceful, if that was possible. Then he slapped Bruce’s ass.
“Shower?” he said. “Then we can watch some other movie - one that doesn’t make us confront our own mortality and-”
“But-” Bruce began, and if ever there was a use for lightbulb going off over someone’s head, it was then. Tony’s eyes widened and his lips twitched, and then he shook his head.
“You know what, I’m just going to...I’m glad that we randomly happened to watch that movie, because obviously-” he waved a hand over Bruce, “-but still, I would prefer not to relive that montage at inopportune times, and besides, are you tired, because I’m not tired-”
“It is only ten fifteen,” Bruce said, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder.
“Great, so - shower, and then movie. I’ll even let you pick.”
“So magnanimous. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”