p • r • e • s • s • u • r • e

a question of atonement

"Yeah...sorry. Thought I saw something."

"...right..." Bruce was frowning. "Um-you're-here," he said, producing a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his cheek, just under the rims of his glasses.

"What?" he mumbled. 

"You were crying. Or-well, your eyes were watering, at any rate."

He folded it up into a square and tucked it into Tony's hand, and with great hesitance, he removed the glasses from his face. Tony made no attempt to stop him. 

His eyes were inflamed. They creased at the corners like well-worn shoes and they looked about ready to spill over. Defiantly, they betrayed no emotion. The strength wavered, they spasmed and Tony's brow furrowed and unfurrowed and yet still, he fought, to show nothing when there was so much to see. It was all he had left. The fight against himself. 

Against his selfish humanity.   

"You happy? Is this what you wanted to see?" 

Bruce sighed, mouth pressed into a firm line.

"This can't keep happening."

He reached out to the reactor and felt its smooth panels, felt its curves and its edges through the cotton of an ancient Dire Straits shirt. 

It was warm. 

He hadn't expected it to be warm. But then it shrank away from his touch along with the rest of Tony, who's jaw flexed for want of a hand to squeeze. Bruce noticed how he held his breath, chest hitching.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, I should have told you, it's-"

"-yes but you wouldn't, would you and here I am giving you shit for doing this, and-"

"-really not a problem, it was an accident you didn't mean to, let's just-"

"-now I'm just as bad as-"

"-put it behind us. Wait, just as bad as me? What is that supposed to mean?"

"No-I-I didn't mean it like that."

He had his hands up in defense, and his cuffs had slid down just enough that his scar peeked out.

Tony smirked in remembrance. 

Hypocrite. 

"I know you didn't."

"Okay. Good, 'cause you know that I like, support you and everything, and I really-"

Yeah okay it's enough. 

"Bruce. Brucie Bear."

He stopped. 

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Yeah. Yes."

Tony sighed. 

"Thank you, though."

"Oh yeah no of course, you're-you're my friend. And-I owe it to you."

"Wh-How do you mean?"

Bruce just smiled. 

"Because, twelve years ago Natasha tracked me down, brought me to the helicarrier, to the team. But uhm...you're the one who found me, man. And-and you didn't put me back." 

There was a wet quality to his voice that Tony couldn't ignore. 

"Oh come on, we can't both be crying-" he sniffled. 

"No I'm-I'm serious, Tony. You saw that I was fucked up and you recognised that-and do you know, being-being unhappy you get used to people pretending to care, or trying to help, or thinking that they're capable of fixing you despite the-the army of other humans who have tried and given up before and it starts to piss you off, that they think they're important enough to change you, that they think you should change in the first place, that they assume the right to choose what's best for you. And you get mad. But then you stop caring, and you learn to tune people out, and to throw them off the scent, because everyone always throws their solution at your problem when they have absolutely no clue what the fuck that problem is, or why it is."

He huffed, hoped to god Tony could find his way through that word salad. 

"But-then you said, you said how I should have died, and you implied that I didn't for a reason, and I've heard that, everyone has. But you didn't tell me to be grateful for my life or for my alter ego, you didn't give me any of that...religious/spiritual crap about fate and destiny and being special. And I asked you why, and you said..."

"...I guess we'll find out." Tony smiled. He couldn't understand that something he said could mean that much to anyone.

"Yeah. You uh..." he sniffed. "You reminded me that there was more. That Hulk-something entirely new, entirely unique, was inconsequential compared to the potential of what could happen after. That what could be is vastly more important than what already is. And in ending what already is, you lose infinity. You put it into perspective, and I trusted you, because you were the same."

His gaze darted down to the blue glow in his chest. 

"You called it, a 'terrible privilege'."

Tony smirked. "Sounds like me."

"Yeah." He dragged his sleeve across his eyes. "I just-I just wanted to thank you. Because you knew exactly what to say and when to say it. And if you didn't think I'd have listened, you would have found someone else and spoken through them."

"Well...that's all humanity's ever been, really. The right people with the right words at the right time. I suppose I just never allowed who I was to affect who heard me."  

"You should write a book."

"I did," Tony laughed. 

"Wait-really?"

"Yeah. But they were the wrong words for the time," he said. "And one day, that just might change."

He turned the key and the engine rumbled to life.

Bruce gave him a quizzical look. 

"Can I read it?"

"Oh god, I should've known you were gonna be like this-y'know what forget I even said anything."

He backed the car out, flicked the turn signal.

"Oh come on, please?"

"...all right but only one chapter."

"Yes! Yesss-"

"One, Banner. I mean it."