Hi there. This is a new fic of mine. And it's also posted on AO3, so if you want to see it there too, feel free. (My pen name is the same over there.) So, um, what do I say? The usual? Well, I don't own any of these characters or anything, you know that. I'd love to hear what you guys think as this story unfolds as well, so all I can say now is that I hope you enjoy it.

"Blueberry?"

Bruce looked up to find an outstretched arm, a silver pouch in hand, only inches in front of his face. He didn't know what time it was – knowing him, probably somewhere around midnight, maybe later, but knowing Tony, probably more like four in the morning. His eyes were groggy as he looked at Tony, and seeing the bag of food in his hands, he finally noticed the soft grumbling in his stomach.

"Come on, Banner. Brain food." Tony's lips curved into his signature cocky smile. Sighing to himself, Bruce dug his hand into the back and pulled back a few berries, popping them into his mouth one by one.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" He finally glanced at the little digital numbers in the corner of his computer screen, realizing that it was 4:47 AM. "Aren't you usually, like… sleeping, or drinking or something?"

"Nugatory." Tony leaned his head back and poured a stifling amount of berries into his mouth, and his attempt to speak around the food make Bruce simply shake his head. "Sleep is for the weak. Besides, you're more interesting than sleep or alcohol. What are you working on, anyway?" After swallowing the berries, he stepped behind the table beside Bruce and squinted at the screen.

Bruce made an unneeded gesture towards the programs running on the screen. "When the Chitauri fell around Manhattan after you put the nuke in space, S.H.I.E.L.D took a few of them into custody for investigation. I was just, uh… looking at what they've gathered about them."

"And?"

"Nothing to go on, really. The technology of wherever Loki and his army came from is far too advanced and… unearthly for us to try and determine anything plausible –" He stopped talking when he felt Tony's hand slide around his waist, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "- honestly, they have more worthwhile things to do with their time."

"So do you." Tony's breath was warm on his ear, and Bruce felt a shudder run down his spine. Both of the hands on Bruce's waist seemed to burn through the fabric of his shirt, and he found himself leaning into Tony's arms, relishing the warmth that enveloped him. Then there were lips at his neck, beneath his ear, sliding downwards until they reached the soft skin stretched over his collar bones.

"Tony." Bruce could barely hear his own voice, and when Tony didn't respond with even the slightest of grunts, he questioned if he had even spoken at all. "Tony, I'm working." Despite the fact that he was telling his lover to stop, he couldn't help but smile thankfully. He felt like it'd been much too long, even though they'd made love only a few nights before.

Finally, nibbling at Bruce's ear, Tony grunted in response. "It's five in the morning; I think you deserve a break. Just a quick one."

Bruce sighed. "Not… not now, someone might find us. You know Steve; he's always up bright and early."

"Please." Tony rolled his eyes. "You're really going to bring that up again?" When Bruce simply looked at him over his shoulder and said nothing, Tony added, "Who cares if the team finds out. They're going to have to know sometime."

"I know." Bruce said the words with a sort of wariness in his voice, gently tracing the bones of Tony's hand with the tip of his finger. There was something about Tony's hands that he found comforting, something about the way they felt on his skin and the way the skin tightened over the bones as the arms tightened around his waist, squeezing, holding him as if he'd never let go if he didn't have to.

"Look." The arms dropped from Bruce's waist as Tony hopped up to sit on the table, but took a hold of Bruce's forearms and dragged him towards him so the man was standing between his legs. "Other people's opinions – or actions, for that matter – aren't going to stop me from doing what I want with you."

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle softly at the comment. "Oh, I'm aware."

"Exactly." Tony grinned and cocked his eyebrow. "So, please? Just a quick one? You know you want to." Before Bruce could respond, his lips were otherwise occupied by Tony's and he felt the other's legs squeezing his waist. He leaned into the embrace, and at that point he didn't care about the images on the computer screen or the time or, most importantly, anyone finding them in the lab, because right then and there, Tony's lips on his, trapped in the sensual embrace, Bruce simply didn't care.

# #

The light was blinding. It may have just been the sunlight filtering through the endless glass walls, but for some reason in the back of his mind, Bruce didn't believe that. It was almost too bright, like some sort of artificial lighting meant to wake him. Tony could be obnoxious, always up at the crack of dawn, and Bruce knew that – but it was unlike him to intentionally wake Bruce with some sort of blinding spectacle unless absolutely necessary. Neither of them ever left the bed until the other woke; it was their unofficial rule. He sat up in the tousled bed sheets and pushed his dark curls out of his eyes, feeling a wall of cool air rush against his bare chest.

He looked towards his right where Tony had fallen asleep after their early morning escapades, but found that the space was empty. He froze.

Tony never left the bed.

Oh, shit.

Frantically, Bruce scrambled from the bed and pulled on the nearest pair of pants he could find, feeling his heart rate begin to increase. As he made his way through that particular floor of the tower, he listened for any sign of Tony's presence – the coffee maker gurgling, the digital blips of a computer, even JARVIS' accented, disembodied voice, but as he continued through the doorways and pristine hallways, he found nothing.

Bruce rounded a corner and breathed a short sigh of relief when he saw a man's shadow looming from inside the bar area. Found him.

"Tony?" His voice was tentative, shaky. "What are you – " He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence before a blast of something was thrown across the room and hit him square in the chest, sending him flying backwards across the room until a wall broke against his back.

Bleary-eyed and clothed in dust, Bruce felt a snarl form in his throat. There was blood on his back and he thought he finally saw Tony's body across the distance, but the thoughts swimming in his mind were somewhere between nonono not now don't let this happen and greenrageanger blood boiling get Tony.

When he got to his feet, there was still dust in the air and he felt his muscles tense, stretch, and eventually grow, and he dreaded the moment when his skin would finally turn green and the greater majority of Bruce Banner would be lost somewhere inside the beast. Every time during this… transformation, he put his every thought and effort into repressing it, shoving it back and locking it inside a safe and throwing out the key, but each time that moment came too soon when his mind became useless and he couldn't, just couldn't fight it any longer.

He never quite knew when exactly the change from man to beast was complete, but when another blast lit the room, it bounced off of his hard, green chest, earning a screech in return. Bruce (was he still Bruce? He wasn't quite sure – he knew the Other Guy was somewhat of a manifestation of himself, though a beastly one, and he liked to believe that somewhere, Bruce Banner was still in there) advanced towards the – person? Creature? Imposter? – and balled his hand into a fist, but before he brought it down, he caught a glimpse of Tony's gaze in the corner of his eye.

Everything stopped for a moment, and he held Tony's face in his eyes for a moment, noticing the small trail of blood that dripped down the side of his head, the beads of sweat that clung to his forehead and the soft stubble of his goatee. Something about his expression screamed 'help me', and Bruce found himself motionless, having never seen anything of the sort on his paramour's face. Just as he was about to reach out and grab the man from whatever grip he was held in, something hit him in the side of the head and he roared irritably.

There were then words floating through the air, dancing around his head, but only three made their way to the small part of his brain that was comprehensible.

"Dull, manic creature."

Then Tony was gone, dust and bits of drywall crumbling into the space where he'd been before, and Bruce felt a howl rip from his throat. Not a howl of rage, but another one that he knew almost just as well – pain.