kore_logs | what doesn't kill you makes you stronger

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what doesn't kill you makes you stronger

Who: The Hulk and you, IF YOU DARE
What: The rampaging Hulk is... you know, rampaging. Feel free to treat this as an open post kind of thing. Team up to battle him if you want, or come in to help rescue someone.
When: Day 50 (from here)
Where: Starting in the town, moving back out into the park (feel free to assume you're pursuing him out there from the town), then he flees into the woods.

There aren't a lot of conscious thoughts in the Hulk's mind right now. The only thing he's sure of is rage -- pure and unadulterated, it flows through him and feeds his strength, feeds his energy, but it's like poison, too. The regular Hulk, the calm one, would prefer rationality over this, but he doesn't have a choice. He doesn't get a choice like Banner, or like any of these other humans. He gets someone pushing Banner's buttons until the Hulk tumbles out mindless and angry and unable to turn it off.

So he'll rage, and he'll smash and destroy until he can bleed the anger out.

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“Wait, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

He’s lying through his teeth, which are plainly visible due to the huge-ass smile that’s going to make his face start to hurt soon if he doesn’t rein it in. Not that he’s planning on doing that any time soon. This is fun. And maybe it’s not in keeping with the solemnity of the aftermath of a rampage, but frankly, so what? A few buildings got destroyed and some people probably got scared. Big deal. It isn’t the end of the world. And unless someone dies, Tony’s not going to think twice about it.

“Was that a yes?”

Keeping up the charade of not being sure, Tony keeps it up, investigating each new dip and curve in the Hulk’s side with insistent, wiggling fingers.

He doesn't notice that Tony's lying this time because he's distracted by his wiggly fingers, and the Hulk's still wiggling underneath of them, trying to get away. He's not quite laughing, but he keeps grunting and snorting in ways that are almost a laugh. Finally, he wraps scoops Tony up in both hands and holds him up in the air, off the Hulk's chest.

"Not ticklish." Except he so is. Tony definitely wins this round for sure.

“Cheating!” Tony immediately says, half-laughing as he’s hoisted into the air. “Cheating! This is totally cheating!”

No one who’s grinning this much could be put out by it though. And really, this is kind of fun too. It’s taking everything he has to resist the childish impulse to feign flying through the air, but there’s still some dignity in there somewhere, and he manages. Barely.

“You know, I think that’s two for me.” He holds up two fingers, ratcheting up the smugness for the sake of the game. “Two. And one for you.” He curls one finger down. “So, two out of three, I think that means—Yep. I win!”

What -- hey! The Hulk's face settles into a scowl; he's not really annoyed, but he's not happy about losing, not being all that used to losing and all. He huffs, which is his way of conceding defeat, and then he rolls onto his side and deposits Tony on his back onto the ground.

"Hmph." He's pouting.

“Hey! No one said winning meant forfeiting my Hulk pillow!” The Hulk might be pouting, but now Tony’s whining. “That was so not part of the deal.”

Not one to take this lying down, Tony sits up and leans over until he’s sprawled out against the Hulk, insinuating himself back into his personal space like it’s got his name written all over it. Tipping his head back toward his chest so that he’s looking at him sort of upside-down, Tony grins.

“You wanna go for five out of seven? Reclaim the title?”

Right now, he likes Tony getting in his personal space. Rational like he is now, he's far more patient and able to accept this kind of treatment. An angrier Hulk would be far less accepting, and the Hulk sees that as Tony gets more comfortable. He sighs, though it's more of a snort, and he curls his arm around where Tony's propped against him.

"Keep Hulk pillow. Keep title too." That's how much he likes Tin Man. After a second to think, he actually tries to tickle Tony, though for him that means one finger only probing around where Tony's ribs are. He really is trying to tickle, his touch gentle.

“Thank you, I will,” he responds loftily, still grinning. “I’ll keep them both for—Yea—Ha. Nn, what’re—Ah, stop it!”

Squirming away from his finger, Tony twists around and slaps at his finger, half trying to climb over to his other side. Not like the Hulk doesn’t have two hands and ten fingers, but discovering at 42 that his not ticklish assertion isn’t entirely accurate doesn’t leave much room for calmly and rationally pointing out that he was wrong and now that they’ve got it sorted out, he’ll be going back to being the tickler, not the ticklee.

“Okay! So I am a little! I give up!”

He does stop... for all of two seconds before he redoubles his attack using two fingers and really giving it (in a gentle way) to Tony. And then he lets up. The Hulk grins then, satisfied, and this time he actually does laugh; it's rusty and abrupt and short, but it's a laugh, and it leaves him lightheaded. He relaxes back against the ground, sighing.

"Don't have much time." He looks down at Tony, and he feels a surge of affection that he knows is his just as much as it's Banner's. He'll never find another person like him, and that thought is upsetting in a general way but warming in a very specific way. He touches Tony's cheek gently.

"Stay with Hulk?"

Men don’t shriek. But they do yelp and squirm and flail around so much that they may as well shriek. At least until they’re not being tickled anymore. When it’s over, Tony slumps against the Hulk, breathless and laughing quietly under his breath. So quiet that he’s able to hear him when he laughs, and that’s worth all the tickling in the world.

Turning his head toward him, he leans into the Hulk’s hand and lifts his own to rest against the big green one. “You better believe it, buddy.” He taps the arc reactor with his other hand, looking up at the Hulk’s eyes as he tips his head just a little further to kiss that patch of green skin nearest his mouth. “Until this old thing gives out, I’m going to be right here with you.”

The Hulk smiles, slow and surprised. Not at the sentiment, because he's heard Tony reassure him like that before, but at the kiss. And not even that it happened because Tony's kissed him before too, but because it warms something in him too. It doesn't actually take a lot of thought or buildup for him to decide to touch Tony's cheek again and then to kiss him, really kiss him. The idea that Tony might not want it doesn't even cross his mind; he's that convinced of Tony's acceptance of him.

With things the way they are now, there’s no way Tony would ever let himself get into this kind of situation with anyone else. He may have made a reputation for himself as loose and easy, basically slutty, but it’s been a few years since he lived like that and that kind of lifestyle has always been dependent on being single. When he’s with someone, he doesn’t stray, and he certainly doesn’t make out in weird places with other people.

The Hulk isn’t other people, though. He’s a part of Bruce, and not wanting to be touched by him, whether he’s big and green or not, isn’t something that Tony can imagine himself ever feeling.

He’s surprised by the kiss, if only because the Hulk doesn’t strike him as the physically affectionate sort, but the surprise is a fleeting thing. It certainly doesn’t prevent him from kissing him back, and because he’s Tony Stark and Tony Stark never does anything by half-measure, he slips his hand into the Hulk’s hair and tugs him closer. It’s the kind of nonverbal message - I want you, I’ll be here, that isn’t going to change - that he hopes translates well enough for the Hulk to understand.

If Banner's seeing this and protesting, the Hulk has no idea; anyway, Banner won't remember. What he does feel, and what might be flowing over from a part of the brain usually controlled by Banner, is that he likes this. He likes this very much, and he likes Tony, and he wants to kiss Tony and be held by him, and he doesn't want to give him up. Stupid Banner.

This is what life should be like, he thinks. Not raging and smashing and yelling and being yelled at. Why can't it always be like this? Why does Banner always get to have this, but the Hulk barely gets any choices?

Well, he chooses Tony. He doesn't let up on the kiss, and he sets his hand against Tony's back, cradling him against his chest.

There’s a possibility, however remote, that Tony’s completely misreading this. Anything’s possible, and he has been known to make horrible mistakes. But he’s 99.9999999% sure that the Hulk likes this. The hand on his back, and the fact that the Hulk hasn’t pulled away yet, tells him so. And if he likes it, Tony’s sure as hell not going to stop.

He’s also not really one to maintain the status quo for very long, either. Because if the Hulk likes this, he might like something a little more, and Tony’s a firm believer in giving the best kiss possible. Especially if the one he’s kissing hasn’t had much experience. Then he’s practically duty bound to go for broke.

Broke in this case is humming a soft note of encouragement to let the Hulk that he likes it too, and flicking his tongue along his lower lip. It’s light and slow, the last thing he wants to do is startle him, but it’s deliberate. There’s no mistaking that he’s doing it on purpose, and after a moment to let him feel it, Tony licks at the seam of his mouth.

The flareup of irritation passes as Tony draws his attention again, and the Hulk hums back, though it's really more of a rumble. He doesn't have much experience at all, but some things are filtering in from Banner's end, probably drawn out by the familiar taste and feel of Tony in the first place. He parts his lips, inviting Tony to do what he likes. The Hulk trusts him completely, no reservations.

It's nice to have that with someone, and he's glad that person is Tony, besides. He can give his loyalty to anyone who's deserving of it, but Tony is so fun and kind, and when he looks at the Hulk, the Hulk doesn't feel like he's something different or strange.

He's starting to get lightheaded, but he attributes it to the kiss, what he notices of it at all.

As far as Tony’s concerned, the Hulk couldn’t be in better hands for this. Of course, Tony also has an ego the size of the moon, so that might have something to do with it, too.

He slides his fingers up further into the Hulk’s hair, ruffling it slightly, adding a new sensation to those he’s already providing. But it’s not the only one. The moment the Hulk parts his lips, Tony takes advantage, dips his tongue inside in what promises to be a leisurely investigation of his mouth. He slides it against the Hulk’s tongue, both tasting and offering up a taste of himself.

There's no reason to rush it, not that Tony can see, and since he's betting that this is a huge step for him, he has no intention to start rushing.

Oh, he likes this, and he likes that it's Tony he's kissing. He can't really tell what Tony's doing in so many terms -- the way he's guiding the Hulk, easing him into it -- but he does feel its effects, and they comfort him. He could stay like this with Tony, in the woods where it's quiet (at the moment) and they're alone (for the moment), but he isn't lonely.

He's content, at peace.

And the lightheadedness swells until he feels pushed off balance, and he breaks out of the kiss dazedly. No. No, it's not fair. He doesn't have the ability to speak to tell Tony what's happening, but he has time for one more sad, fond look, and he strokes his back lightly, before he blinks slowly once, twice. The Hulk's body goes limp, and he lies back, eyes closed and breathing even.

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.

The transition is slow and if it hurts, Bruce isn't conscious of that. Or of anything at all. The Hulk retreats, leaving Bruce shirtless with an impossibly destroyed pair of pants draped around his waist. When he comes to, there's a pounding in his head and in his ears, and he groans. He needs to assess the situation and where he is, especially to find out if he's been captured or about to be captured, so he opens one eye despite the pain.

"Tony?" His voice is thick, and he's unsteady as he pushes himself up. They're in the woods and they're alone; that's a start, anyway. "What happened?" And then as things sluggishly slide back into place, he sobers. "Was anyone hurt?"

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.” He’s been keeping watch as he waited, and now, hearing Bruce’s voice, turns to face him. His voice is warm, easy, and hopefully, reassuring.

As far as his question’s concerned, Tony doesn’t really know the best answer. What he knows is what he saw on his way to find the Hulk and what the Hulk said to him once he found him. “And as for everyone else, well, no one’s screaming and the place isn’t on fire, so I’m taking it as a good sign. There was some minor property damage, but from what I saw, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Shrugging, largely unconcerned about it, Tony holds out the jacket and jeans. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

Well, Bruce isn't unconcerned about it, but he can't think of too much all at once when he still feels like he's settling into his own body. God, he can't believe he let Kobra wind him up like that, but even still, Bruce wouldn't say he was all that angry, not angry enough to lose control when he's been so good about his control.

"It's like I've been run over by a truck. And completely unrelated to that, I feel like shit." He smiles weakly, very weakly, and then takes the clothes, but he doesn't pull the pants on yet because he's eyeing Tony in his boxers. And it isn't like that; he doesn't have anything to say, his head still pounding too hard, but he gives Tony his best what the hell are you thinking and are you sure about that? look.

“Right, so I’m taking that as a no.” Not that he can really call for an ambulance or do anything about it, and he doesn’t have the suit, so it isn’t like he can carry him home. But he sounds well enough to complain, which means that if Tony can get him back to the house, then he can see about doing something to alleviate those complaints.

He can’t help noticing the way Bruce is looking at him, though, and stares back, forehead wrinkling. “What? So I didn’t think to pack a pair of pants first. Sue me later. For now, just put them on. Sooner we get you back to the house, the sooner I can dig up some painkillers or something for you.”

Bruce can walk; he'll be fine once everything settles, at least physically. He does find a smile for Tony, and he's really glad that Tony was the one here waiting for him, as in, incredibly thankful and grateful. He pulls the pants on and then stands up, wobbling a little, before he pulls the jacket on.

He looks out toward the town, and the pain on his face isn't really from his headache.

"I didn't want them to know what he could be like."

He waits until Bruce is standing before he gets to his feet, staying close enough that if he needs the extra help to keep standing, Tony’s there to offer it. He’s seen that wobble. He’s ready to catch him if he falls.

“I don’t think it’s as bad as you think,” he offers, sparing the town only the briefest of glances. Bruce takes up most of his attention. But so what else is new?

“At least it wasn’t when I walked through it. Besides,” and here his eyes narrow slightly, protectiveness and something subtly darker lending an edge to his voice. “It wasn’t your fault. From what I heard, someone provoked you.”

"And how does that make it not my fault?" It's not like those guys in Brazil. He and Kobra were arguing, that was it. He appreciates the protectiveness from Tony though, he really does. If this were any other scenario, he'd be all for Tony helping to defend Bruce against a town of people who have no reason to trust him ever again.

He smiles tiredly at Tony, staying still to get his bearing, and then he gives up. He feels miserable, he may have hurt people, and he can't even flee the country this time. He steps forward and wraps Tony in a hug, pulling him close and tight against him.

"Thank you for staying with me." And he doesn't mean only that Tony waited for him to wake up.

Much as he wants to come back with a response, he knows that there will be plenty of time to lecture Bruce on how none of this was his fault. He intends to do it, too. At length. Until he gets it through his selectively thick skull that the only person at fault here is this so called Hot Hands, with whom he would feel slightly less animosity if he realized that hot in this case related to temperature, not something sexual.

Visions of punching this faceless individual a few times disappear from his mind, however, the moment Bruce pulls him into a hug. His own arms fold around him automatically, drawing him in tightly as he snorts.

“What was I going to do? Let you streak your way back home? Please. Of course I was going to stay. Where else would I be?” He says it literally, means it literally, too. But there’s an undercurrent in his voice that suggests that of course I was going to stay means something a bit more long-lasting than simply until Bruce wakes from a Hulk transformation.

what doesn't kill you makes you stronger

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