At first, he doesn’t know what’s happening. It’s the look that throws him, too sad to seem like it belongs in the moment. And then it dawns on him, the Hulk’s fading, sliding back into Bruce.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, moving with him as he slumps backward, one hand stretching out to brush the Hulk’s hair back from his forehead. “It’s okay. It’ll be all right. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up again.”
He doesn’t know how much the Hulk can hear, but he keeps talking anyway, voice a low, soothing murmur as he continues petting his hair. Eventually he falls silent, though it’s some time before his fingers still in his hair and Tony settles back to give him room to complete the change. He’s not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. He’ll be here for the Hulk when he emerges again, and he’ll be here for Bruce now, whenever he wakes up.
While he waits, he shrugs out of his coat and, after a moment’s consideration, slips off his jeans, too. Sitting around the forest in a long-sleeved shirt and boxers is a little awkward, but he figures that walking back to the house in nothing but a jacket after wrecking half the town will be more awkward for Bruce. Tony’s dignity, what little of it exists, can handle it. And he knows he’s got a nice ass. He’ll survive. Bruce’s comfort, what he can find in the aftermath of this, is the most important thing.
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“It’s okay,” he murmurs, moving with him as he slumps backward, one hand stretching out to brush the Hulk’s hair back from his forehead. “It’s okay. It’ll be all right. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up again.”
He doesn’t know how much the Hulk can hear, but he keeps talking anyway, voice a low, soothing murmur as he continues petting his hair. Eventually he falls silent, though it’s some time before his fingers still in his hair and Tony settles back to give him room to complete the change. He’s not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. He’ll be here for the Hulk when he emerges again, and he’ll be here for Bruce now, whenever he wakes up.
While he waits, he shrugs out of his coat and, after a moment’s consideration, slips off his jeans, too. Sitting around the forest in a long-sleeved shirt and boxers is a little awkward, but he figures that walking back to the house in nothing but a jacket after wrecking half the town will be more awkward for Bruce. Tony’s dignity, what little of it exists, can handle it. And he knows he’s got a nice ass. He’ll survive. Bruce’s comfort, what he can find in the aftermath of this, is the most important thing.