kore_logs | i must live with my quiet rage

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i must live with my quiet rage

Who: The Hulk and Tony // Bruce and Tony
Where: Out by the woods. // Their house
When: Day 46
What: Tony wants to talk to the Hulk and then also ask his help to catch a saber-tooth cat thanks to an ill-advised bet with Party. // After successfully catching the cat, Bruce and Tony regroup at their house.

Note: You're welcome to have your character hear/notice the Hulk from a distance, but he won't be bothering anyone but Tony (and the log is closed).

Bruce needs to stay calm, but trying to stay calm when he's about to let the Hulk out for something as mundane as a chat isn't easy. He can barely wrap his mind around the concept of letting him out just to... let him out. The cat thing after the talk is weirdly comforting even though it shouldn't be, but it seems like if he's letting the Hulk out, it should be for something... well, Hulk-worthy. That seems like the responsible thing to do, to keep a monster like that concealed as often as possible -- that's been Bruce's life since it happened, his number one goal. Right behind that was keeping out of the hands of the military.

He can accept throwing that away for the sake of saving people, but this... This is so different. He keeps sliding back in his conviction and willingness to do this, but maybe... maybe Tony's right. Maybe the Hulk is... more than a monster. Or not a monster at all.

By the time they get to the woods, he's almost relieved he doesn't have to think about this anymore. He takes a breath and then tugs his shirt off, toes out of his shoes. He's actually wearing the pants Sharon got him for Fake Christmas because they are, indeed, extra-estrechi. He starts to reach to take his watch off, but stops once his fingers slide too much and he realizes there's no fastening because it isn't a watch. Ha. Good. He hopes these bracelets are expensive. Screw you, scientists.

There's a thought to end on. He needs some anger to tug him out, but not too much, so he teases that thought out and then he's changing slowly, his skin turning green and his body reshaping itself, bones growing and muscles expanding. It's still not pleasant, but it's a far cry from acid being poured on his brain, and far more fluid than when he's fighting it off the whole time.

And then Bruce stops having conscious thoughts, and the Hulk raises his head, taking in a lungful of air. Oh, this place still. The woods have metal Hulks in them that aren't better than him no matter what they might've been made out of, so there. He turns and spots Metal-less Man, and no one else. There's no sense of urgency, no smell of a fight in the air, no tension.

"What's going on?"

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That takes him aback so fast it leaves him reeling, blinking up at the Hulk like he’s forgotten how to understand English. The idea that Tony Stark can do better than Bruce Banner is so foreign and alien to him that he just can’t comprehend it. He still doesn’t know what he did to make Bruce interested in him in the first place and he lives in perpetual fear that whatever it is will lose its potency.

But then the Hulk mentions Steve and Tony’s knocked out of his disbelief by a bark of his own laughter. “Steve? Buddy, have you been checking out Steve’s ass when no one was looking? That’s what this is, isn’t it? It’s okay.” He winks. “I’m not judging.”

He’s not going to keep making light of it either, though, and sobers somewhat. The smile, however, remains. “It’s probably weird to hear it, especially after you saw me moping around over him, but I’m happy. With Bruce, I mean. He makes me happy. He gets me. Not a lot of people do. Hell, most of them think I’m a freak. So unless you’re volunteering for the position, I think Bruce is gonna have to be it.”

He doesn't quite understand Iron Man's flirting. Is it a joke? He's smiling, it seems happy. The Hulk's expression doesn't change, still stuck somewhere in confused, because Iron Man is this whole... thing that he doesn't get. He's a friend. That much he knows and will fiercely protect. He cares about Iron Man, and Iron Man cares about him; he's only ever had smiles for him.

"They think you're a freak?" He sounds surprised because he is. Most humans have only ever been cruel to him. Notable exceptions include the Avengers and the people he's met here, but the majority have been violent and angry. When the Hulk thinks about those humans, his eyes drift to the forest, where the metal Hulks are, where he knows the scientists are, and then he turns back to Iron Man.

"That's why you're friends with the Hulk." He gets it, or he thinks he does. Iron Man likes him because he doesn't think he's better than the Hulk, or that the Hulk is less than him.

He sighs.

"Take Banner," he says grudgingly. "Make him better."

“Actually, big guy, I’m friends with you because you’re one of the best people I know.” The Hulk’s too tall, and Tony’s too short, to sling an arm around his shoulders like the way he would with Bruce. So he improvises by stepping up beside him and just leaning against him, like a full-body nudge to the side. “And trust me, I know a lot of people. And have unrealistically high standards. The number of people I trust I can count on my hands with fingers to spare. But you’re one of them.”

He will never understand the belief that the Hulk is a monster. He’ll never understand the fear that he inspires in so many people.

“I’ll take Bruce. No hesitation or argument from me there. But I’m not the one who makes him better.” Tony lifts his eyebrows as he looks pointedly up at the Hulk’s eyes. “You are. This world has been nothing but miserable to you and to him, but you don’t let it stop you. You still help protect it. It doesn’t deserve your help or your protection, but here you are anyway. There aren’t many people like that out there, who have that much heart to care about strangers and assholes. That’s why you’re my friend.”

The Hulk isn't used to being touched in kindness, out of the context of battle. Betty did it, holding him, leaning against him, kind of how Iron Man's doing now. He watches him and isn't sure how to reciprocate or what that would even entail, and then he needs to pay attention to Iron Man's words.

They take a lot of concentration because they're so unbelievable, because he never heard anything like that before in his entire life. He doesn't like the idea that it's his job to make Banner better, when Banner hates him and the Hulk doesn't want anything to do with him.

That's part of the tragedy of their lives; they want nothing to do with one another, but they can't escape, inextricably tangled and woven around one another. There aren't many points of connection between them -- just Betty and Tony, and here Tony is, threading himself in with the two of them and trying to make sense of the knots.

He lets Iron Man's words sink in, and then he sinks to the ground, sitting down next to him, which puts them a little closer, as he isn't the tallest he could be now, either. It takes him a long time to know what to say.

"Some people are friends. Betty. You." He nods at the town. "They aren't so bad. I like to... like people. I..." And here's the big reveal. "I don't really want to be left alone."

Being alone is better than being attacked, but it's also... lonely.

Sometimes, it’s something dramatic that breaks his heart. The betrayal of someone he loved. Shards of shrapnel filleting his heart. And sometimes, it’s the Hulk telling him that he doesn’t want to be alone.

“Listen. This thing?” He taps a finger against his chest, hard enough to make the thunk of impact against the reactor’s casing audible through the layers of his clothes. “Can power my heart for fifty lifetimes. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I haven’t begun to see what I can do with this kind of technology yet. So here’s my point.”

He worms his way a little closer, invades the Hulk’s personal space like it’s the most natural thing in the world. On more even footing now with the Hulk sitting down, Tony leans in and reaches out to touch his face, trying to turn his head to meet his eyes.

“Long as I’m alive,” he says, his voice a vehement hiss. “You are never going to be alone. No matter what. I will always be here with you."

The Hulk feels... vulnerable. That's not an easy task, and an entire army -- alien or not -- can't accomplish it. A handful of words is what breaks him, and he's never felt so cracked open before; it should feel terrible, he would think. It should feel wrong, but there's Iron Man here with him, wanting to be with him for as long as he can.

What he knows about the arc reactor is sketchy, but now that he's thinking about it, the information's filling in. The intensity in Iron Man's words is arresting, and he doesn't know how to reciprocate, doesn't have the vocabulary or the experience with emotions of this kind.

"You promise?" It's true that the Hulk doesn't trust most people. With anyone else that question would be coated in suspicion and mistrust. With Tony? It's more of a plea.

The relationship between the Hulk and Bruce is one likely the most complex Tony’s ever encountered. Gamma radiation created the Hulk, that much he knows, not from some outside source, but from Bruce himself. They talk about each other like they’re different people, and Tony talks to them both about each other like he’s in complete agreement. And they are distinct personalities; the way they speak and interact with the world, it’s clear that they’re not the same. But the Hulk is still part of Bruce. He’s a big green part of him, made of anger and, he’s learning, loneliness, but he’s still an aspect of Bruce.

And Tony cannot abide any part of Bruce being lonely. Not when he’s there to prevent it.

“I promise.” He can’t remember when he’s last sounded this serious to his own ears. “Cross my heart. Both of them. I’m not going back on that promise. Not ever. You and me, we’re in this mess together. For keeps.”

In the kitchen of some random house in some world that wasn’t his own, Tony did his level best to drive home a point to Bruce about monsters. He remembers it clearly. Just like he remembers what he said, only half joking. Well, the Hulk is close enough now, and it’s not just with Bruce that he feels he needs to make a point. So while he’s there, before the Hulk moves, Tony leans in just that last little bit, and brushes a kiss over his lips.

“Thank you doesn’t even begin to cut it, but for everything you’ve done since the moment that experiment happened, I thank you. And I got your back against the whole damn world if it comes down to it. I promise you that, too. Okay?”

The Hulk is comprised of a lot of things that Bruce keeps close, that he maybe isn't even aware of; he definitely doesn't know that the Hulk is anything more than the anger he's always felt bubbling under the surface. He is the loneliness Bruce felt as a child when his mother wasn't around, and later in high school when he didn't have friends so much as bullies and test tubes. He's the fear from that childhood too, and so many other things that Bruce's never known how to express.

The Hulk doesn't know how to express them either, or feel them; he just is them, and he now that he's being presented with comfort and stability, he wants to cling to it and never let it go, which is just what Tony wants him to do. That's what he needs to fill in all the vulnerable spots he just opened up, the glue to put himself back together. The kiss is surprising, obviously. It's the last thing he expects, but he's full of warmth and acceptance, and only some of it is Banner's.

"Okay, Tony," he says, and he looks down, needing a break from the intensity; it's almost too much for someone so unused to emotions beyond fear. When he lifts his head again, he thinks maybe he should give something Tony too, so he sets his hand on Tony's back and pulls him in closer in a kind of embrace.

"Thank you."

He can’t remember if he’s ever heard the Hulk call him by his first name. It’s usually some form of variation on the Iron Man suit. It makes him smile, one of those genuine, thousand watt smiles that the press would kill to get photos of and never will because of it. And when the Hulk pulls him closer, he throws his arms around the big guy’s huge shoulders like it’s no big deal and gives him the kind of hug that would make a normal person breathless and probably doesn’t feel like a damn thing to him.

“You bet, buddy. You bet.” He gives him a moment, just holding on and being there, solid and real and very much not vanishing into the night. Tony has abandonment issues, he understands what it’s like.

“And hey, I know this is probably kind of boring, standing around talking when maybe you want to stretch your legs. Raise some hell.” Good humor infuses his voice when he says that, like he’s not suggesting massive destruction to someone potentially strong enough to crack the world. But there’s no elephant in the room to Tony, not topic too sacred to mention, and he doesn’t have the temperament to handle people with kid gloves.

“So I was thinking. Wanna help me catch a saber-tooth cat? I saw some of them in the woods the last time we tried to make an escape run and thought, in this place, maybe having one around as like a guard cat – weird, I know, don’t ask, I might’ve been drunk at the time, I can’t remember – might be a good idea.”

The hug doesn't leave much of a physical impression, but nothing does. It's the thought that matters, and Tony's a strange little man with a strange collection of thoughts about the Hulk. Why can't all humans be like him? There are some others here who are nice, but they still have the fear in their eyes, most of them. Tony doesn't smell like fear.

Actually, the Hulk doesn't want to raise hell; that's all he's ever dragged out to do and that sounds negative. Stretch his legs, yeah, do something instead of just sitting around, and there's a restless energy coiling up inside him like a spring already. He's glad when Iron Man doesn't mention a fight. Really, the idea's kind of stupid.

"The biting cats?" They didn't do much more than annoy the Hulk to no end, but Tony's squishier. "You think they'll guard you?"

Everybody’s such a critic about this cat plan. Granted, there’s a part of Tony that knows it’s stupid. But there’s also a large part of him that’s tired of being functionally worthless to the survival of the town. And if he can train wild animals to protect the town, sure, it’s weird, but it will make him feel like he’s a contributing member of society, instead of a dead weight doing nothing more than eating the food that would be better given to someone more useful.

“Maybe. If I’m patience and can convince them that I don’t mean them any harm. I mean, people have regular dogs and cats as pets, right? Why not bigger cats?”

There’s no way he can talk about it without sounding dumb, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair and making a mess of it. “Yeah, okay, I know it’s stupid. But I made a bet and everyone’s going to make fun of me if I can’t do it, and maybe I can’t, but I still want to try.”

He's still hesitant on this until Tony says that people will make fun of him. That just about makes up the Hulk's mind, and he immediately stands up.

"Let's go."

That's all the preamble he needs, and he starts for the forest, assuming Iron Man will follow.

Tony blinks, not expecting such easy agreement. But he’s not about to argue over it, so he hurries after him and, once caught up, falls in at his side.

“Now, admittedly, I’ve never caught wild animals before, but I’m thinking if we get far enough into the woods, they’ll find us. I mean, they find us whenever we don’t want to be found. Once they do, we’ll just…”

This is where the plan goes a little soft. He has no idea how one catches a wild animal without considerable equipment.

“We’ll catch it and take it back to the house. How’s that?”

The Hulk doesn't want anyone laughing at Iron Man, especially when Iron Man's been so upset the last two times the Hulk saw him. He doesn't like being called puny, and he gets sad when he's not with... Banner. Tony needs people on his side and not calling him puny or other names, and so he'll help him get a dangerous cat even if it might eat him.

"Catch it," he agrees with a nod. Like, literally catch it. In his arms. "Knock it out."

Then it's less likely to eat Iron Man. He tilts his head, then glances down at Tony.

"Stuff it?" He could prove he caught one, and then he could prove he dominated it by... killing and stuffing it.

“What? No,” he shakes his head, quick to clear up that misunderstanding. Worse comes to worse, they can always get another one if the first one gets killed accidentally, but he’d rather make the venture as short and sweet as possible. Thus far, nothing good has come from venturing into the woods. “Not stuff it. We need to keep it alive.”

And not get killed by it. That’s a priority. The biggest priority. But Tony will deal with it when they actually catch one of the damn things and see what it does.

“Feed it. Care for it. Teach it not to bite us and to bite things that attack us. That’s—That’s really the plan in a nutshell.”

The Hulk lifts an eyebrow skeptically at Tony as they slip past the tree line, which means he also needs to start paying attention to their surroundings.

"Good luck." You'll need it. Now he starts watching out for them, and he grabs Tony's arm and pulls him closer without watching to make sure he won't actually fall over from that. He just wants Iron Man to stay close!

"Don't go far," he says warningly. "Might be metal things out here."

Already trying to keep a watchful eye out for both their quarry and anything that might attack them, Tony isn’t paying much attention to the Hulk. He’s a tough, reliable presence at his side; one that makes him feel invincible and fearless, not one that requires constant monitoring. So he isn’t expecting the tug, nor is he braces for the strength behind it, and he finds himself yanked off-balance. There’s a wild, disoriented moment as he flails his arms, trying to regain it again before he topples over in the dirt like an idiot.

He doesn’t manage to do that. But instead of falling facedown onto the ground, he staggers and trips his way into the Hulk’s side, fetching up against him with a muted oof.

So much for grace, he thinks. And total silence, as he dissolves into a kind of quiet laughter that edges far too close to giggling for his masculinity’s comfort. Still laughing, he pats a hand against the Hulk’s side.

“Sorry, buddy. I have two left feet sometimes. I think it’s these shoes. My bad.”

Whoops. The Hulk pauses and checks that Tony's on his feet again before he nods and keeps going. He's not bothered by Iron Man falling over. Puny people are so puny, it's a wonder they don't fall over more.

"Make more noise. They'll find us easier." That's his commentary on Iron Man's weird laughing, and then he stops when he notices the brush ahead of them moving.

"Look." It's a whisper for someone his size, and he leans forward, trying to spot the animal in its hiding place. "Where is it? I'll grab it."

“Shh or make more noise?” Tony asks with mock querulousness, voice pitched low as he focuses on the bush. “I can’t do both. It’s one or the other.”

But there’s movement in that bush and it’s too small to be a giant metal Hulk. That leaves saber-toothed cat or metal bear, and Tony’s betting it’s the former, not the latter. Tapping his fingers against the Hulk’s arm, he nods toward the bush, plan already forming in his mind. “I’ll flush it out. Second you see it, grab it. Okay?”

A firm believer in asking for forgiveness instead of permission, Tony doesn’t wait for an affirmative. He just charges forward into the bush, withdrawing one of the syringes full of tranquilizer from his coat pocket as he goes. If it fights back, he’ll nail it. Otherwise, it’s up to the Hulk.

He doesn't have time to explain that while Tony was being too noisy, it was working to their advantage before Iron Man's moving off into the bush. He also doesn't have time to tell Iron Man that he should just let the Hulk do it because he can pick this cat up from the ground without much effort, or any at all, whereas Tony can't do much when the tiger leaps out at him from the bush, its mouth open and teeth bared.

The Hulk surges forward and catches it in midair, clutching it hard -- but not too hard -- and holding it against his chest. With one hand, he keeps its mouth and front paws from attack range, and with the other he holds down the cat's back feet, so its stomach is exposed.

On the upside, the plan to flush the cat from the bushes works. On the downside, it means that it comes leaping right for him. But on the second upside, it makes it easier for the Hulk to grab it. A bit of quick math that any idiot could do, and Tony thinks that, all told, it was a good plan. Even if it leaves his heart pounding a little too fast in his chest.

Whipping around, he waits until the Hulk gets its back legs under control before darting in, searching for the most prominent vein he can find in among the fur and struggling wild cat, and plunges the needle in. For all that the animal’s right there, all teeth and claws so close to his face, Tony’s not particularly scared. Not with the Hulk there. He’s practically invincible, so it isn’t like Tony has to worry about him getting hurt.

“Okay, that should do it.” He eyes the cat critically, waiting for the tranquilizer to take effect. “I guess. You okay, buddy? No bites or scratches?”

His hands are getting chewed and his wrists are being clawed, but he's pretty okay. Irritated and ready for this wriggling beast to knock it off, but okay. He's almost ready to drop the thing or hit it against a tree -- that'll knock it out, right? -- when it starts to go slack in his hands, and he peers down at it, using his thumb to lift its chin. The animal's still awake, but groggy.

"I'm fine," he says brusquely, and he doesn't add that the cat will be fine too now that it isn't gnawing on him anymore. He rearranges it in his arms and winds up holding it like a baby.

"We done?"

Tony eyes both him and the cat doubtfully for a moment, then nods. They’re both breathing. They managed to get the cat on the first attempt. No one’s missing body parts. It’s a win. It’s got to be a win. Otherwise, Tony doesn’t know what he’s going to do with himself.

“Yep, that’s it. Thanks, buddy. I definitely couldn’t have done it without you.”

Giving him a smile and a grateful pat on the arm, he turns and starts back to the house. “I don’t know if you’ll need it or not, but if you’re still bleeding by the time we get back, I’ll take care of it for you.” And if he’s not still bleeding, so much the better.

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i must live with my quiet rage

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