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“Puny Doom!” Hulk angry. No Doom. “Doom scared of Hulk. Hulk smash!”

 

“I like the attitude, buddy, keep it up!” Tin Man talk to Hulk. Hulk grin. Tin Man shoot two bots down. Hulk smash bot.

 

Hulk smash other bot. No Doom. Hulk growl.

 

Tin Man not talk. Hulk look up. Tin Man fall down, bots follow.

 

Hulk jump, catch Tin Man. Tin Man puny. Hulk protect! Put down Tin Man. Smash bots.

 

Tin Man not talk. Tin Man always talk. Hulk protect. Bots shoot Hulk. Hulk roar. Hulk in pain. Hulk angry!

 

Puny bots, Hulk smash. Hulk smash. Bots shoot.

 

Tin Man puny, Tin Man not talk. Hulk scared. Hulk take Tin Man. Hulk jump with Tin Man. Hulk smash bot! Hulk jump. Hulk run with Tin Man. Hulk protect.

 

**

 

Bruce blinks his eyes open, a familiar ache in his muscles, his stomach aching with hunger. He feels chilly, but only on his torso and feet. Oh good, he's still got pants on then.

 

“Morning, big guy.”

 

“Tony?” Bruce frowns. They're on a rooftop surrounded by taller buildings. It's far from the weirdest place he's ever woken up in, and his focus is immediately snatched by Tony and his banged-up Iron Man suit, horror twisting his stomach. “What the hell happened to you? I didn't-- he didn't--”

 

“No!” Tony gets up quickly, and Bruce is relieved to see he can walk properly even though he's clearly in pain. His t-shirt is ripped almost completely off and Bruce can see bruising all over his left side. “He's the one who caught me when I fell and carried me out of the battle. Saved my life again. Have I mentioned how much I hate the new doombots? Because I really hate the new doombots.”

 

“Sit down, you're hurt.”

 

“Eh, it's nothing-- ow, okay maybe not nothing, point taken, you can stop poking me--”

 

“Shut up and let me look you over, Tony.”

 

“Bossy, I like it. Are we role playing doctor and patient? Because I can totally do that.”

 

There's a few flinches, but Tony's not showing any signs of major injuries, and Bruce feels something uncoil slowly in his chest. He keeps touching Tony for longer than strictly necessary, until Tony pulls him closer and they end up lying on the roof. He's not nearly as chilly with Tony in his arms, although it doesn't help with the soreness.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“Funny you should ask, because I was kinda hoping you'd know.”

 

“So, no idea.”

 

“Nope.”

 

Bruce grimaces at the ruined Iron Man suit. “I'm guessing no JARVIS?”

 

“Wow, you must be a genius,” Tony exclaims with bright round eyes, then laughs when Bruce bites his shoulder. It's weird, this physically playful side Tony is coaxing out of him, but it's hard not to be drawn into it with somebody as tactile as Tony is with him. If pressed, he might even admit he likes it.

 

“How long do you think it'll take for Fury to track us down?”

 

“Why, Brucie, did you have something in mind?” Tony's hand slides up Bruce's thigh, but Bruce grabs his wrist.

 

“Yeah, getting home. The Tower, I mean.” Tony's eyes betray delight at Bruce's slip up, and Bruce doesn't have the heart to press the point. Isn't sure he has a point anyway – he's scared to think of anywhere as home, but if he's honest with himself he doesn't want to leave. It's too late for that, it's maybe been too late ever since Tony first shook his hand on the Helicarrier.

 

“C'mon, let go,” Tony says, wiggling his fingers against Bruce's thigh. “I'll make the wait go a lot quicker for you if you let me.”

 

“Firstly, I'm exhausted. Secondly, you're injured. Thirdly, anybody glancing out the window can see us down here.” Bruce points towards the higher buildings around them.

 

“Killjoy,” Tony complains. Bruce chuckles, wraps his arms around him tighter as Tony burrows more comfortably against him.

 

He's almost dozing off when there's a sound of an advancing helicopter, and soon they're climbing in. Tony must have been more tired that he was letting on, because he buries his face into Bruce's neck and dozes against him. Clint collects all the suit pieces and smirks at them when he walks past. Bruce feels his face heat, but his arm tightens around Tony.

 

This could be a problem. He remembers flashes from the other guy, this territorial protectiveness. Tony clearly thinks it's a good thing, which in itself worries Bruce. Tony is too reckless by half, doesn't realise or care what Bruce could do to him. The last time he felt like this about somebody, he ruined her life.

 

“I can feel you worrying,” Tony mumbles, and Bruce startles, then smiles unwillingly.

 

“Shut up and go back to sleep, Tony.”

 

“Okay, mom.”

 

Bruce nips at his ear and Tony laughs. By the warmth in his chest, Bruce figures he's screwed.

 

**

 

His plan was to get a perfunctory shower, some food, and as much sleep as possible. If asked, he would have estimated the likelihood of this plan at approximately 97%.

 

Tony is brilliant at throwing spanners in any plan. Buried inside him, face pressed against Tony's neck, smelling and tasting his sweat, Bruce has no complaints.

 

“Oh, ohh-- C'mon, give it to me big guy, I'm not made of glass. Oh, Jesus--”

 

Bruce is slipping, he knows he doesn't have to be careful this soon after transforming, and he's tired. Too tired to think. He doesn't understand Tony, can't understand how the man can let him this close – he's seen what Bruce is, but he's here in Bruce's bed pinned underneath him, his fingers digging into the bedsheets as Bruce thrusts into him, presses teeth into his skin and growls like an animal. He wants to blame the other guy, but there's no difference, no boundary where Tony is concerned. The desire to mark, have, possess is all his and it terrifies him. He doesn't deserve Tony, and yet here he is.

 

Tony tightens around him and Bruce stumbles over the edge, his hips snapping against Tony's ass as he comes. He slumps on Tony, feels him shudder and drinks in Tony's moan of pleasure as he brings himself off. He's barely coherent enough to get rid of the condom, but after he does, his arms wrap around Tony and pull him into his chest. His eyelids feel heavy.

 

“G'night, Brucie.”

 

Bruce's hold tightens. “Love you, Tony,” he mumbles. He has no choice but to keep holding on.