starkingenuity | The Not So Silent Hill

Okay. So he did stiffen up again, but that was his mind, and not his body, telling him that he didn't like people so close. The flinch dissolved just a moment later and the hug he'd forgotten how much he liked was just enough to make Tony resolved in recapturing what he'd lost.

He held Bruce too tightly. He clung. It was somewhere between a mannish clasp and a trembling hug. He wanted to hold and be held. They just didn't have the time for it.

"Later," he said, the heat if his breath catching in the curls around Bruce's ear. "After this." If Alessa high on Extremis didn't kill him.

The flinch stung for a moment. The embrace made up for it.

Bruce took a moment to just breathe Tony in, to feel his breath on his ear. Time was too short.

But life was unfair. He took a deep breath and stepped back. "Later."

He compartmentalized. He had to get everything together. They had to leave.

He gave Tony a quick peck on the cheek before he got back to work, though.

"I'll hold you to that. And the really ridiculously pitiful kiss," Tony said, making everything flirty because that was the sort of man he was. Flirting just came naturally, it always had. He'd been flirting with Bruce since they'd met after all. Nothing changed. Minus the fact that they sometimes got naked together. Sort of. Tony was mostly curious about how they managed sex...he hadn't seen any on screen.

And from what he knew of Bruce, elevated heart rate could and often did call down the Hulk. Huh. Something to dwell on later too.

Later, later, later.

Tony was just going to have to be patient.

A man in his twenties with white-boy dreads and a long goatee was waiting in the living room as Tony moved past him. "You. With me."

"Y-You're--"

"Tony Stark. Yes. Hi. Bruce Banner, AKA the Hulk. Hello, introductions complete. Let's go."

Bruce gave the artist a little nod of acknowledgement. This was probably going to be the weirdest day of the poor man's life.

"We're going to need to be working in the air today. I hope you have all your equipment."

Alessa already had packed her body into the quinjet. It was lying naked on a bed, arms crossed over its chest and eyes closed. Bruce went through a mental check list of everything they needed and cross-referenced it with a mental list of what they had. They were ready.

"This is going to get strange," Bruce said to the artist as they took off while he examined the controls to make sure everything was in order. "Your client is right in there," he gestured to the door leading to a bedroom allocated to Alessa. "Believe me when I say that doing your work accurately is important."

Chances were that the man had never tattooed someone so young, let alone someone who seemed to have absolutely no control over themselves. Alessa's projection lounged near the head of the bed, watching her sleeping face in fascination.

"Woah, woah woah... Am I on TV or something? Is this like...a sting or something?" The young tattooer stroked his chin before he glanced at the young girl sitting by the body of...another young girl. "Because, haha, very funny... I could lose my liscence. I could go to jail!" he complained, and he kept on complaining until Tony stuffed his pockets with enough money to make him hitch up his skinny jeans again. "Uh--"

"Is it still a problem?" he asked and the kid swallowed. "Didn't think so. Okay, Alessa, show our main man-- What's your name, kid?"

"Tyler." Tyler. Oh God.

"Of course it is. Okay, show Tyler what we need to do. Banner, everything good to go? J? How's the flight schedule? I want us in French waters in the next few minutes."

"Everything looks okay from here," Bruce said, adjusting his glasses and double-checking to be sure.

Alessa, for her part, looked up from her body and glanced at the artist, looking unsettlingly like a lion eyeing a wounded antelope.

"This is possibly the most important piece you'll ever do. If you don't do it right, people will die."

It was entirely possible that the only reason she was sharing that knowledge with him was to see him squirm. Alessa wasn't a very nice little girl.

She held out her hands, the Seal of Metatron appearing in glowing red between them. "This is your design. It's going to go on the back. Make it as big as you can without distorting the design. The bigger, the better." She paused, then cocked her head. "Do people usually bleed when they get tattoos? Because there needs to be blood involved."

Alessa wouldn't have to worry. Tattoos bled. Especially because the subject was so young and the back he would be working on was so delicate. Money, fear and a healthy hero worship helped Tyler get over most of his reservations. He drew the tattoo on with perfection once the quinjet was in the air and stabalized.

When he took the gun to the girl's skin, however, he balked. "A-Are you sure--"

"Yes," Tony said from the cockpit area. He wasn't going to watch that. Tyler could be saddled with his nightmares on this. And Bruce... Well, Bruce had seen her at her worst. This wouldn't be a problem.

There was no more murmuring from the young artist once he started, however. His craft, at least, took all of his attention.

Bruce would watch and make sure Alessa was okay. He was ready to watch her through anything. He had so many nightmares anyway--a few more couldn't hurt.

The projection of Alessa sat next to the body, her head bowed and her hands pressed together, murmuring soft and fast. Her face was smooth of lines and stress. Serene. Even as the room became warmer and blood sprung up behind the gun's path. It couldn't have been pleasant, but one wouldn't think it looking at the girl. The body continued to breathe easy, and Alessa continued to murmur.

The lines, as they grew, burned hot and glowed softly. The projection looked out of place there. She looked like she belonged in a church, somewhere in the pews with her head pressed against wood and her mind contemplating God.

Bruce has never been a religious man, but it's still somehow touching to watch a little girl so deep in her own faithful rapture.

Even though what was happening? Probably wouldn't be particularly acceptable in most churches.

Eyes front. Tony guided the quinjet through hazy New York skies and despite the all too interesting sounds of Alessa chanting back there, decided not to turn around. It was probably like some sort of Indiana Jones film and he really didn't want his face melted off. Bruce had survived his trial. Tyler...well he was doing so-called 'God's' work. Tony had enough on his plate and didn't want to deal with Silent Hill any time soon.

Because they weren't in a commercial jet, because Tony could fly the craft far below usual altitude, they would be in French airspace in half the time. That still meant a few hours with his family...post ritual of course.

It all reminded him of the few times he'd gone to church while at school, the few times he hadn't been able to sneak away. All they needed was some organ music.

As the chanting died down and Tyler, sounding exhausted, said that it was probably his best work ever, Tony let JARVIS take over the controls and climbed back to the other two and the girl.

"Huh...yeah. So still want us to get some ink too?" He even rolled up his sleeve.

"Don't be stupid. I didn't want you to get it in the first place."

But Alessa's crooked smile was back, but the outline of her projection was indistinct as Bruce helped clean her new tattoo and kissed the side of her hairless head.

"You can keep your hair, too. I pull it off better than you ever can." And there was a joke. Rare and modeled after Tony's sense of humor, but a joke.

Neither of them even acknowledged how strange it would be to have the projection talk as if she were as bald as the body in front of Tyler. Bruce looked at the artist briefly, giving him a small smile. "Thank you. I think you can go ahead and rest now."

Tyler just nodded and went up to the cockpit, only half hearing Tony when he was told not to touch anything. JARVIS wouldn't let them crash but he didn't really need some poor young kid messing with the panel anyway. He had everything set up exactly the way he liked it, okay? Tony joined his little family around Alessa's body, the large back tattoo covered in gels and plastics to promote healing for an hour or so. They'd have to keep it clean.

"I kinda like it," Tony said, leaning on Bruce for just a moment before he let the quinjet's hull cradle him. He even drew up a knee, looking comfortable despite what they had done and what they were about to do. "But thanks. I don't have a good shaped head to go bald anyway. I'd have to shave off all of my facial hair too because I don't one to be one of those guys. You know, bald and a goatee? They're not fooling anyone. We all know they Bic it because otherwise they have a Picard helmet."

It didn't matter if no one understood him. Tony just liked to talk.

No one understood him. It didn't really matter. Tony had a habit of going on about things no one else understood.

Bruce kept stroking Alessa's bare head. She was soft as a newborn. Looking down at her, she was hardly recognizable as the body he had to butcher in Silent Hill.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm fine." Alessa's outline was still indistinct with every touch. "When do I get Extremis?"

"We should give you a minute. It's not going to be very pleasant."

Tony was going to have to override that 'in a minute' part. "Not on the plane," he said, being firm about it. "We're on the way to an island I own off the coast of France." What? He owned a lot of islands okay? "There's a lab there under the house and that's where we're going to do this. Just in case."

He knew what happened if Extremis caused a person to explode and exploding was the last thing he really needed to go on his resume. He'd blown himself up enough.

"We have to test the blast doors. The version of Extremis we're going to give you is pretty stable but that doesn't mean it's perfect. It doesn't work for everyone." Just look at what happened with Red Skull and Abomination.

How many islands did Tony own?

Bruce nodded in agreement. Yes, even with the tattoo and all the work that went into stabilizing it, it was better to be safe than sorry where Extremis was concerned.

Alessa didn't stay awake long. Soon her image disappeared, and the body's breathing evened. Bruce still stroked her head absently.

"Tony, what do we do if it doesn't work?"

It was a sudden question. Looking down at her, her back bandaged and her skin red from touch, she looked so small and vulnerable. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let anything bad happen to her.

It was too bad he was about forty years too late.

Tony was not a helpless man as a general rule of thumb, but he felt that was now as he watched Bruce with the girl. "It's going to work," he said, because they did not have a plan B here and there was no time to figure out what it might be. "The only difficulty is going to be how to maintain her until she gets use to it." And by maintain, Tony really meant 'contain.'

That meant it would be up to Bruce to help. Indestructible or not, however, being hurt meant that the Hulk would come out and if the Hulk did... With Alessa and the beast together, it was very likely that the island would be turned to ash.

That was why he was sending the tattooist back on the quinjet.

There was another on the island any way if there was a need for evacuation.

"We can always try the mirror." Though the girl had threatened that once invited in-- Well. It was just the island, right?

"As a last resort. We can give her a little mirror, just in case."

Bruce gave Alessa a soft kiss on her head. The slightest peach fuzz brushed against his mouth. Her hair was already getting ready to grow again.

He let her go and sunk against the wall next to Tony, looking down at the girl and running through every worst case scenario he could think of in his head.

"How are you feeling?" With all the confusion and things to be done, Tony hadn't been given a lot of time to cope with his memory loss. Bruce wanted to make sure Tony was okay, now that they knew Alessa was.

It was a good enough question, one that made Tony smirk slightly, introvertedly. How did he feel? "A little hungry," he said, but it wasn't to be funny, he was just being truthful. "Still pretty angry. There's not a lot else to feel but confusion and I don't really like feeling that way...so I'm not going to," he decided.

Hungry and angry, therefore, would just have to do for now.

What he wanted was a little reassurance but asking Bruce for that might have been laughable. Kiss me because I don't remember and I want to seemed like an odd request so Tony didn't make it, even if this next leg of their journey could leave him seriously injured.

Somehow, that was not as bad as losing the last few days...and losing what felt like, to him, to be something akin to home. Could a person embody that? When Bruce had kissed him, the world seemed right.

It was pretty amazing and terrifying and wonderful all at the same time.

Bruce wasn't one to initiate affection at the best of times. Tony had always been the one to take his hand, to kiss him, to sneak his hands under his clothes. Bruce didn't know what to do with touches. He was too used to keeping people at arm's length.

And now, with Tony the way he was, he didn't want to push affection onto him. He was too scared of pushing him away.

He slid his hand against Tony's, loosely intertwining their fingers, giving Tony room to pull away if he wanted to. He wasn't sure enough of where they stood to give Tony all the touches he was used to receiving.

"I boxed the food, if you want to eat with me."

He was trying. He wanted to show Tony that he cared, that he wanted them to be okay, without overwhelming him or making either of them more vulnerable than they were comfortable with.

The simple touch of a hand on his, fingers brushing the back of his hand, pushed a smile on Tony's lips. He curled his hand around Bruce's and let his thumb slide over his knuckles. A sigh followed, something like contentment, something like a purr, though humans lacked the vocal cords for that particular sound. "Oh good, I was afraid that I might waste away to nothing!"

Tony had eaten a lot of food in his life but nothing tasted half as good as the meal Bruce had compared, shared from fancy red Tuperware containers on the floor of the quinjet like a pair of high school kids plotting weekend adventures. Though some of his memory was missing, or replaced by his mind's attempt to make up for that missing memory, Tony knew that he'd never had a friend like Bruce in his life.

And, perhaps, never had a lover (boyfriend? Even a girlfriend) like him either.

Bruce might have an aversion to displaying affection openly, but Tony was more than receptive to whatever came his way.

Bruce was smiling like he rarely did before he and Tony had gotten together. Tony had a way of making him smile, of making him laugh and chuckle and forget about all the things that weighed him down. He sat down on the ground, crossing his legs and leaning against the wall, occasionally brushing his fingertips against Tony's, gauging his reactions.

"One of these days, I need to show you how to cook. I might need to leave some time, and you and Alessa can't live on takeout." Bruce was smiling, picking at his food and figuring that Alessa would probably end up being the one to learn how to cook. He lived every day, wondering if the military was going to break into the tower and try spiriting him away. He worried that him going away was a real possibility. "Do you know how to make anything other than coffee?"

Tony just scoffed, food in his mouth. It stopped him from saying something about Bruce needing to leave. He remembered, vaguely, what it was like each time Bruce went off the radar. He remembered Pepper coming up behind him once, ruffling his hair, and telling him that his soul mate would be back eventually. Pepper had known even then-- It had taken Tony a few too many near death experiences in a row to figure it out, it seemed.

Tony let the thoughts go because Pepper had been right then and would continue to be right about Bruce. He'd come back. He had to. They needed each other. Maybe that was presumptuous. Tony tried to pull up memories that might fit the mold and provide him a true example of just why he couldn't seem to get Bruce out of his system.

Maybe it just didn't matter though.

Tony shifted so that his knee pressed against Bruce's thigh. "I make a mean omlet. And I can defrost frozen things..."

"Sir, if I might interject--" JARVIS stated before Tony interjected.

"Mute!"

Bruce was hyper aware of Tony's knee against him. He smirked at the wall, imagining JARVIS standing there with imaginary arms crossed and rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Maybe you can survive on questionable omelets and defrosted things, but Alessa can't."

He hesitated. He scooted closer and rested one hand on Tony's thigh, nothing overtly suggestive but something intimate. "I'm guessing Alessa will pick it up before you, though. You're terrible at domestic things. Do you remember trying to hem a pair of jeans in Silent Hill?"

Bruce remembered it vividly. He remembered Tony's bare skin on his, the gentle kiss he had placed on the back of his neck, the refusal to judge him for all his sins and baggage. He remembered sharing the fact that he had lied about his mother's death and murdered his father. He remembered all of it.

Bruce remembered. Tony did not. The hand on his thigh was thrilling in the way being touched by your crush alone could be and though Tony remembered a hundred touches from a hundred faceless people, so few mattered as much as this one did. He looked up from his food, a wry twisted smirk on his lips, and turned his annoyingly handsome face towards Bruce.

And there was that look, the one that had been veiled on the helicarrier because Tony didn't understand it, the one that had been greeting Bruce every time he visited Malibu or New York or happened to have Tony 'accidentally' run into him in his suit from time to time across the globe. It was the one Alessa had picked up on right away, the one Bruce had been so shy about and Natasha had ignored at the table while they made plans to bring down the Order: Bruce was the only man in Tony's world that mattered every single second of the day.

He didn't have to remember Silent Hill the way Bruce did (though he wanted to desperately) to have the look on his face right now, half hidden behind entirely too long eyelashes.

"I remember...wearing someone else' pants," Tony said quietly before he ditched the fork in the container he had been eating from and leaned up to kiss Bruce more boldly but certainly not as sweetly as Bruce had kissed him the first time.

That he remembered at least.

Bruce knew that look. Knew the way it made his heart jump a little, made him feel like the only man in the world. His pupils dilated, his breathing slowed down.

He was ready for the kiss. He closed his eyes. His hand tightened on Tony's thigh. He cupped his boyfriend's cheek, stubble rough on his palm, to keep them both steady. The pace was Tony's; Bruce was still too cautious just in case he tried to take too much.

Tony's mouth was warm. Soft. Their stubble scratched together, making the skin around their lips red and crisscrossed with lines. He broke for air, breathing out, "You told me you didn't have to learn how to sew because you had me." Then he started to kiss again.

Tony still had him. Tony would always have him, one way or another.

There was a rumble of laughter against Bruce's mouth, an upturn of a smile, and Tony gladly accepted the kiss again. It was enough confirmation to know that he wouldn't be alone, not physically, not intellectually, not emotionally. Sure, Bruce had presented himself in a package Tony would not normally go for, but that made him so much more delicious to have now.

It helped that he was so impossibly attractive too. Tony wasn't going to discount that. He might not have fit his usual taste but after a lifetime of water, he could use a little coffee to shake things up a bit.

The remains of breakfast were tossed aside because as delicious as Bruce's cooking had been, his mouth was better. His hands-- Wow. How had he lived before without being touched like this?

Pepper had sort of driven him to the romantic side of himself he'd never bothered with before, but he embraced it now even as he ran his fingers through curls and half climbed over Bruce to just get closer to him.

And that was when JARVIS announced their descent. "Sir? When you are finished with your examining Doctor Banner, I would like to inform you that we have arrived."

Because his AI was a horrible troll. He only had himself to blame for that.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject