starkingenuity | (no subject)

After declaring that the bed smells like marshmallows (and in reality, it actually does), Tony laughs uproariously and finishes his chips. He’s propped up on pillows, talking about how gross it is to eat in bed, and then tosses the bag away, empty.

Banner is just a swimmy sort of image in front of him, flitting from shelf to shelf like a cardigan wearing hummingbird and Tony is too amused to do anything at all but watch him for several moments.

If the other scientist thinks his friend is going to happily stay in bed, however, he has another thing coming.

“FRIDAY! Music! We need to party!” And be sloppy drunk off of alien alcohol meant for the Hulk. The AI obliges her Boss. At least Tony is an impressive figure. He has some decent rhythm. Even as he stumbles back into the wall.

Bruce'll have to wait until later to find out if the bed smells like marshmallows or not. It seems that he has some intensive Tony wrangling to do until then.

The music is too loud and Bruce has to shout to be heard over it, yelling at FRIDAY to turn it off, which she doesn't because the Boss wants music. His next best option is yell at her to turn it down - no more down, no more - until there isn't so much noise coming from the former gladiators' quarters that someone might want to come investigate.

Music turned down to tolerable decibel levels, he can give his friend more attention, catching him before he careens into the wall again and pleading, "Tony, come on. We're squatters here. Don't get people with guns to come bust up the party."

Catching Tony while he’s dancing means that Tony is turning those move on Bruce now. Even if Bruce decides just to stand still, there’s still a man in his late forties trying to groove with him in delightfully awkward ways. He wraps one arm around Bruce’s shoulder and makes a motion like he’s driving, snapping thumb and finger together with the beat.

“Don’t be such a wallflower. You’re better than that, Bruce. You can open up and have a little fun sometimes! You’re not going to break anything!”

Even the Hulk knew how to let lose! Especially with alcohol that goes right into your blood and brain!

The Hulk does all of Bruce's letting loose for him.

And this is weird. He's seen Tony after a few drinks, and he knows the reputation of the old Tony Stark, but the Tony he's known has never been just straight up shitfaced. The only good thing he can say about it so far is that at least shitfaced Tony is congenial instead of angry, but angry or weepy could be just around the corner. It isn't a thought that's conducive to relaxing and enjoying himself.

"I'm fine. I'm good." He puts a good face on it. "I'm on an alien planet with my friend." And no one's trying to kill them yet. Such fun.

Tony rolls his eyes. He has about as much attention span drunk as sober (or honestly, mostly tipsy... the guy operates best when he’s a little sloshed).

“Okay, you stay good here. I’m going to find someone who wants to let loose a little.” And if Bruce tries to stop him? Oh no. They’re here on vacation. Vacation means partying. He would love to have some fun with Banner but if that isn’t in the cards, he can find his fun with anyone. Tony is picky, but there’s a world full of beautiful people he’s never seen and who don’t know him from Adam.

He could get lucky and find someone that isn’t after his money or his position or his brain. And won’t thst be nice for a change?

He just had to focus on walking straight. And holding onto the wall totally helps.

He's on a planet full of people who have spent years with combat to the death as their primary source of entertainment. Bruce is not sending Tony out there in the condition he's in.

He scurries to get in front of Tony, which is pretty easy given Tony's need to have a wall to hold him up and puts out both hands to ward him back. "Hey, I'll support your getting to know the locals a little better once you can walk a straight line without help from FRIDAY. Come on, you drank the Hulk juice and can barely stay on your feet."

Looking around desperately for some distraction, he thrusts an arm out toward the hot tub. "I thought we were going to hot tub. You're not leaving me without that are you?"

This is not helpful. This is very bad, Bruce. It would be better to let Tony go and hit on an alien version of the average ancient Roman citizen than to suggest that they go and hot tub together when he clearly isn’t thinking at all.

Let alone straight. Pub fully intended.

Amber colored eyes lift ever so slightly from the mouth he’s become drunkenly obsessed with just before he pulls his shirt over his head. The ordeal causes him to step quickly backward two paces before he catches himself with a laugh.

“Hang on. Hang on.. Let me figure my belt out.” Never mind that he’s not wearing one. This could take awhile.

He's not letting Tony out of here until he is thinking again. He honestly wouldn't know how to live with himself if something happened to Tony that he could have prevented. If that means hot tubbing will keep him in the relative safety of their misappropriated room, then so be it.

He is still blissfully unaware of the situation he's putting himself into when it comes to how straight Tony's thinking. Poor dumb genius.

Putting Tony through the physical challenge of getting undressed gives Bruce time to do the same. For a man who's often pretty uncomfortable in his skin, he has at least become very accustomed to showing it. There are only so many times you can wake up wearing the tatters of clothes (if you're lucky) before that becomes the very least of your worries. He leaves Tony to struggle with his clothes and starts undressing, draping his cardigan and shirt over the back of a chair before toeing off his shoes and hopping on first one foot and then the other to get his socks off.

The pants are staying on until he can get Tony safely into the tub.

Once he's mostly ready, he moves in to give Tony some assistance, even if it's just a stable arm to hang onto for balance.

Tony has absolutely no reason to keep up his body. He’s rich and he’s brilliant. He’s put together armor that gives him all of the athleticism he could ever need, but the truth is that wearing that armor and using it effectively requires that he be in shape.

Happy used to train him to box. Tony’s kept up with it more or less on his own. His muscle definition for a man his age is relatively good and given that he rarely remembers to eat three meals a day, his body fat is lean.

No amount of fine form however can stop him from stumbling and then splashing his way into the tub, completely nude, but Banner certainly can help keep him from slipping and drowning.

The water is restorative. Exquisitely so. Tony immediately relaxes, some of the buzz wearing mercifully off as he reclines against the smooth stone basin.

He's certainly not going to try to protect Tony from Sakaar's population only to lose him to drowning in a hot tub.

Once Tony's situated, he can shuck off his own pants and underwear, toss them in the general direction of the rest of his clothes, and slide into the water. He doesn't need to use armor effectively, his physical training was aikido, not boxing, and he hasn't been running in a while, even though he used to run often as a way of learning how to redline his heart rate without going into green. He's a little squishy, a lot hairy, and very okay with that because he appreciates his body whenever it's his.

Still, he can appreciate a well-sculpted ass when he sees one.

He can even allow himself a contented groan as the heat starts to sink into his muscles.

"Your first alien hot tub. How's it measuring up?"

“Yours too?” There’s a cat that got the cream expression on his face. It’s not quite sweet, just a mellow sort of look that leaves him with his eyes hooded and water dripping from his elbows to his fingertips as he gets himself comfortable. “There’s something as weird about this water as there is about the Hulk juice. Which we are bringing back with us by the way. For science.”

The proof of that alcohol is insane and the potential applications are great. Tony’s mind is still fuzzy but he’s already imagining new molecules and new formulas that can come out of just a drop of that liquid.

“I wonder how cleanly it burns. Do you think we can synthesize it? You’re more of a chemist than I am.”

"Mine too," he admits. He should be a little prickly about that admission, linked as it is to thoughts of Hulk hot tubbing. He isn't and that's a little strange to him, but not troubling.

"FRIDAY gave the water the all clear." He lets his legs stretch out and float in front of him, warm and weightless and lets his mind wander to other methods to induce this level of relaxation without adulterating the water. "Vibrations maybe? Find the right frequency to work synergistically with the rest of the experience?"

He huffs through his nose, amused. "We didn't ask her to analyze the air over here. Maybe we're sitting in a Sakaaran Xanax hotbox."

His distracted from his daydreaming about how to replicate this back on Earth by Tony's question. "Huh? Yeah, probably. Let's see how you feel when you sober up. You might not ever want to go near it again."

“Or I think I should have some more. Maybe with a little ice to water it down.” The thought has him laughing as whatever it is about the properties of this particular spot keeps him chill and pliant. Whatever knots he has are gone. Whatever worry he’d had? Gone too. Maybe that’s partially due to the alcohol but he’s in no shape to puzzle the procedure out.

For a few long moments, there’s nothing but silence between them. It’s not the uncomfortable sort that Tony is always afraid of, that he always fills with inane chatter or loud music, even when he’s just working by himself. There’s a general comfort to the situation and that doesn’t have to do entirely with the hot tub.

“Can we just erase the stuff I said back at the mansion? Is that possible? I don’t want you thinking I’m a time bomb.” Those are no fun. People don’t stick too close to those.

"Too bad. I left it back in Hulk's room." If they're lucky, Tony won't think to ask one of the suits to go retrieve it.

This right now is worth coming to Sakaar for. It's worth letting Tony stick him in an Iron Man suit. It's worth seeing Hulk's bachelor pad/prison.

With his arms stretched out along the sides of the tub for leverage and his head tipped back against the edge, he just rolls his head toward Tony and shrugs, adding a few ripples to the water. "Why not? I could use some company in that category."

Tony has to know the words are out in the world between them and can't be unsaid. He dismisses the thought with a flick of his fingers, sending drops of water off their tips in Tony's direction. "It's just between us. Promise."

Why does he have to smile like that? Bruce is a ball of confusing to Tony Stark and generally he can cover up for himself so easily. Bruce is gone more than he’s close. Bruce is untouchable by his own unfortunate design. There’s usually far more interesting things between them to tinker with than each other.

Even poor addled, still half drunk and thoroughly relaxed Tony recognizes how problematic the first half an hour of their vacation has become. There’s no good distraction right now and Tony isn’t fully capable of making one up.

And that’s why he doesn’t stop himself from shifting through waist deep water to sit next to Bruce on the wide, warm seat.

“I want to trust you. No. I do trust you. But I want you to trust me.”

No amount of relaxation is going to make that request any less difficult to respond to. The truth is that Bruce doesn't trust Tony, not completely. Some of their trust was broken when they created Ultron, some of his lack of trust is just an understanding of Tony's character.

Finding an answer that's honest but not hurtful feels like an impossibility, and he doesn't want to hurt Tony while he's this vulnerable.

His answer might be the right one, or it might send Tony spiraling, but he thinks that at least he's found an honest one worth looking Tony in the eye to say. "I trust that you'd do anything, up to and including sacrificing yourself, if one of your friends or someone you love is in trouble. I trust that without any hesitation."

He might have to rethink it if he gets a complete picture of what's going on between Tony and Steve, but even with that shitstorm going on, he believes what he's saying.

Bruce is trying and Tony just keeps lobbing on more and more weight. What should be fun and without consequence keeps turning into something else entirely. He almost wishes he was still the alien suit. She was willing to enjoy herself and hedonistically cast out everything else.

“That diplomatic. Wrong, but diplomatic. I did try to beat the shit out of Steve for something he didn’t really deserve. Just pointing that out. But thank you. I don’t trust me either. I’m probably the person in the world I trust the least. Unless that’s to make bad decisions.”

That makes him laugh and he shifts to lay his arms out along the tub. His thumb grazes Bruce’s far shoulder.

“I’m probably going to make another really bad decision in about ten seconds, Doctor Banner. And I think you’re going to change your mind about me. Or you really should.”

All Bruce needs to do is turn his head to look at him. Or worse, open his mouth. Because that’s all it’s going to take for Tony to lean over and wonder if Bruce can dodge a kiss.

Bruce is trying really damn hard, and this hot tub is going a long way toward keeping him from throwing up a white flag and packing it in.

"Okay, so only you can beat the shit out of your friends. Tell me you wouldn't put on that armor and go butt in if someone else was doing it without you." Sorry, but he doesn't believe it.

If this is going to be a light vacation that actually feels like a vacation and not an extended therapy session that Bruce is entirely unqualified to conduct, he's going to have to get Tony sobered up and take him out among the extremely varied population of the city.

Just the thought of going back out into the city is enough to make Bruce want to sink entirely under the water, and his thoughts are on how they can navigate the masses without getting their asses handed to them when Tony's words draw his attention over to him.

So yes, he ends up too surprised to dodge a kiss and caught in a momentary overload of are there hallucinogens in this hot tub? or maybe how drunk is Tony? with a cherry on top of so he wasn't kidding?

It doesn't make for an enthusiastic response to the sudden press of lips against his. That's got to be for the best, but damn does this remind Bruce of how lonely he is.

Tony is constantly reminded of his own loneliness. And that’s part of the reason that he does really dumb things despite how smart he is. He pushes the envelope to be noticed, to keep people to close, to make people hate him (because it’s better than apathy!) or any of the other things he does. He wants to be with people because he’s nothing like them but the world tells him constantly (and it’s right) that money can’t buy happiness. Only connection with other people can.

He’s just run out of those connections. The best and easiest way to gain something of them is through intimacy. Even with someone that can barely stand it without physically erupting into something else.

The hand that had brushed Bruce’s shoulder now cups the back of his neck. The other crosses his chest to gently rub a thumb across his cheek.

Once the analyzing is over, Bruce can get right down to brass tacks here. Tony is a fantastic kisser. He’s present and he’s real and he’s there. He knows about the Hulk, too, and about the heart rate trigger.

And that’s why his hands are where they are. He’s not just kissing his absenteeism friend, he’s also monitoring him to make sure it doesn’t go too far.

If it hasn’t already.

The last person who kissed him pushed him into a pit because she didn't need him, she needed Hulk, and he lost two years because of it. That one's still pretty raw, too, thanks to Hulk-based time travel.

He has a lot of wants bubbling up but oddly, not the usual smorgasbord of fears. He's definitely going to have to get FRIDAY to do some more analysis on this hot tub and its surroundings, but hey there's a few seconds there where he doesn't care about that and his lips are just as plush as Tony has been imagining, softening and returning that kiss.

Then the seconds have ticked by and he's pulling back enough to see Tony's expression and give a slow, confused shake of his head. He should be pissed off at himself and at Tony, but he's not; he should be furious at the situation, but he's not; he should be afraid of calling Hulk back somewhere he'd consider his stomping grounds, and he is. Not even the magically relaxing alien hot tub can completely quash that integral part of his nature. "You know that's probably the worst idea you've ever had, right?"

His heart rate has barely ticked up at all.

Water drips back to the pool from where Tony’s arms are still extended. Bruce hasn’t gone far, he hasn’t retreated enough to make Tony think that he ought to stop touching him now. Or now. Or even now. His words make the other man smirk, his eyes a different shade of brown, his voice just a note or two higher in pitch than the confused but still on point gravel that Bruce uses when he’s trying to verbally puzzle something out.

Tony loves that. The drawn out syllables. He can’t stop himself from that even if he wants to. Truthfully, though, he doesn’t want to do anything but this.

“I warned you,” he says, as helpful as it truly isn’t. “But that probably doesn’t matter.” There’s a smacking sound as he bites the fat on the inside of his lower lip and lets it go.

There hasn’t been one abnormal jump on Bruce’s pulse. Not one.

“Guess I just don’t do it for you, huh?”

"Tony..." Tony's chest is suddenly very interesting because it isn't those brown eyes or his lips or that damned smirk. Ten minutes ago Tony wasn't anywhere on his sexual radar because Bruce has boundaries. Now Tony's very much on the radar because Tony doesn't have boundaries.

"Where do you think this is going?" He can't seem to stop his head from shaking minutely, tiny sweeps of his chin from left to right and back again, over and over. No, no, no.

Coming back up to read Tony's expression is no improvement. He wants his demeanor to be calm, firm, but what he gets with that little head shake and the pucker between his eyebrows is closer to yearning and fear. "This isn't Vegas and I'm not a fling."

“I’ve been to Vegas. The rooms are nicer,” Tony says as if it’s a complaint, making a sort of ‘sheesh’ face as his fingers stealthily smooth the damp naps of Banner’s neck. He has a favorite part of people, a part that doesn’t translate well in his armor or in robotics in general but that everyone has. The triangular shaped area from neck to shoulders, where all of the important muscles attach, happens to be it. His wrists rests on Bruce’s shoulder but his fingers linger there and will continue to do so until Banner recalls that he’s as capable of moving away from him as Tony is to cease a potentially unwanted touch.

He wets his lips with his tongue, an unconscious but thoroughly and bafflingly sensual gesture, and lets ridiculously long lashes touch his cheeks for a moment.

Or two.

Before he speaks, he breaths in the air between them. It’s warm and damp from the hot tub and from the moment they had shared where Bruce had so nearly missed him back.

“There’s no where this can go. I’m not an idiot. I get it. And you’re not a fling... you’re... important. I don’t have a lot of people like that to overstep with.”

Edited (Boo) 2017-12-21 22:43 (UTC)

He can't think of a single better way to ruin his friendship with Tony than to let this go any farther than it already has. Everything outside this tub is cracked and hanging on by a thread, and it's still going to be there when they get out.

"This would have made for a hell of a honeymoon." It's the best he can offer.

The second best he can offer. On a split second's impulse he decides to offer the best, too. He twists and catches Tony's face between his palms to hold him while Bruce leans in to set the balance teetering crazily between them. He kisses Tony knowing that they can't go anywhere with this, and knowing that if he doesn't do this, they'll both have different, uglier regrets later. At least with Bruce's mouth on his, teeth lightly grazing Tony's lip where Tony had been biting it earlier, he'll know that Bruce is about to get out of the hot tub for Tony's safety, and not because Tony had overstepped where he's unwelcome.

Tony has never been concerned for his own safety, as really ought to be evident by forty odd years of near suicidal genius. He’s still taken by surprise when the cooling space between them translates into absolutely no space between them. There’s just wet skin against wet skin, droplets clinging to Bruce’s chest hair squeezing to the nearly invisible scar where the arc reactor had once been and now artificial bone replaced the smashed area where Cap’s shield had cracked his chest plate.

Tony can’t even get in a breath but he doesn’t need one. Those light touches to the back of Bruce’s neck strength to a desperate, clinging desire to hold onto something real. Bruce is about as real as they get.

He’s never been kissed quite like this before. Women are more demure and on his brief dalliances with men, he’s tended to go for those that might behave a bit more like women than err towards dominant.

Save for Rhodey. But that was a very one sided kiss that each decided to chalk up to Tony’s drinking because Rhodey very definitely didn’t ‘chill’ that way and each still wanted a friendship with the other.

Tony doesn’t feel for a pulse. He doesn’t melt and he doesn’t yield and there’s a click of teeth from two men getting all they can out of a situation that is irresponsible and unsustainable. Tony will have bruised lips and a knowing, pleased smile when Bruce finally retreats.

“I think I like alien hot tubs.”