Thank you all for your support on this series, it means a lot to me! This chapter especially is going to earn the fic its rating, just so you know. I hope you like it!

My Boyfriend is Indestructible
Chapter 3

It was nearing the end of October when Bruce was called away from his lab by JARVIS reporting a helicopter landing at the tower. There was only one person it could have been.

Bruce greeted his guests in the penthouse; Natasha declined a drink, but Director Fury accepted, and he and Bruce each drank a shot of whiskey from Tony's bar. It felt more strategic than friendly, and as used to it as Bruce should have been, it set him on edge.

"Agent Romanoff tells me you've had some success in practicing with the Hulk," said Fury as they got to business, still standing around the bar.

Bruce pulled his lab coat closed as if it were battle armor. "I have," he said. He glanced away. "But it's been a few weeks since I last changed, in case you have an unexplained monster sighting you're here to ask me about."

"Why?" asked Natasha. "You and Parker both made it sound like everything was going well."

"It was. I just needed a break."

Fury hummed thoughtfully. "How much of a break?"

Bruce frowned, uninterested in keeping his irritation hidden. He wasn't much in the mood for military men and their roundabout way of passing on orders. "Excuse me, Director Fury, but why are you here?"

"There's something I'd like you to do for me," Fury admitted. When he motioned to Natasha, she pulled a smartphone out of her pocket and began tapping on it. "SHIELD has been cleaning house lately. We've been upgrading a lot of our technology and equipment, and that means disposing of certain vehicles that have outlived their warranty. Most of them have been stripped for parts and scrap metal already, but we built them to last. They don't all break down as well as others."

Natasha handed her phone over, allowing Bruce to swipe through a few photos of SHIELD-branded jets, lined up neatly at the bottom of a stone quarry. They were accompanied by half a dozen armored tanks and what looked like a partially demolished hellicarrier turbine. Nothing in the pictures stood out as being out of the ordinary but Bruce already knew what Fury was asking of him, and it made him ache for another drink. "And you think I work cheaper than a junkyard press. Is that what this is about?"

"I thought it might make for an educational opportunity," said Fury.

"You mean, a demonstration." Bruce handed the phone back. "Who do you need me to impress? Or is it intimidation?"

Fury shook his head. "This isn't about anyone but you and me." He frowned thoughtfully. "Rather, you, me, and 'the other guy.' If you're getting to the point where you can become the Hulk at will and control that power, I need to know about it. Better yet, I need to see it."

"So it's you I need to impress."

"This isn't a test, Bruce," Natasha spoke up. "We're not going to stand back and watch with our score cards out. We just want to see you in action."

"Think of it like letting off steam," suggested Fury.

"You might even have fun."

"Fun?" Bruce looked from one to the other and had to laugh. "You think this is fun for me? Don't you realize how serious-"

"Did I not see you on Youtube giving Spider-Man a high five over a hog-tied Russian mafia goon?" Fury interrupted. "Not that long ago a slip-up like that would have you running across continents, but you're still here. Aren't you?"

Bruce swallowed. He wished Peter was there. "I'm still here," he said.

"And why is that?" Fury asked, but before Bruce could answer, he put his hand up. "I want you to think about that for a while before you decide. I'll be back on Saturday, bright and early. You can let me know then if you'll indulge me."

Bruce poured himself another shot as Fury and Natasha headed toward the helipad. He didn't want to say anything more, but he couldn't help himself. "What are you going to do with all those jets if I say no?" he called after them.

"We'll ask Blonsky," Fury replied.

Bruce went cold. "But Curt said-"

"Relax," said Natasha. "He's joking. He does that, sometimes." She flashed Bruce a tiny smile over her shoulder. "He's terrible at it."

They left together. Bruce finished the whiskey as their helicopter took off and was talking himself into putting the bottle away when JARVIS said, "Dr. Banner, you have an incoming call from Mr. Parker."

"What timing." Bruce rubbed his face and took a deep breath, trying to rally himself. It hadn't been that long or even that stressful of an encounter but his fuse was shorter than usual, and he could already feel a familiar tension threading into the base of his throat. "Put him through."

"Hey, Bruce," said Peter as soon as they were connected. "Is everything all right over there?"

Bruce snorted quietly. "You saw the helicopter go by, huh?"

"When things land at Stark Tower, people Tweet about it. I'm trying to keep up with that stuff now." He laughed. "What a world we live in, huh?"

Bruce smiled; hearing Peter's voice was just what he'd needed. "Everything's fine," he said. "Director Fury was paying me a visit. I'll tell you about it over dinner tonight."

"Yeahhh...about that." Peter cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but I can't make it tonight. We've got a group project due for Professor Warren on Wednesday, and tonight's the only time everyone's able to meet."

"Oh." Bruce frowned, looking back to the liquor. "Well, that's all right; we can do it another time. Have you told your aunt already?"

"No, not yet. I'm going to call her next."

Bruce tapped his fingers on the bar. He thought about the empty lab below him, his empty set of rooms-and Fury's words, echoing in all that open space with nothing to muffle them. "Actually," he found himself saying, "why don't you let me call her? Maybe...I'll still go over there, if she doesn't mind."

Peter was quiet for a beat; Bruce had no trouble picturing his wide eyes and surprised, hopeful smile. "Really? Just the two of you?"

"Why not? Like I said, if she doesn't mind." Bruce wasn't sure if he was making a wise choice, but it felt right, if only for what it meant to Peter. "We're practically family now, aren't we?"

"Yeah." He sounded almost emotional. "Yeah, I'm sure she'd like that. Thanks, Bruce. Tell her I said I'm sorry, and I'll drop by during the week to make it up to her."

"Sure. Good luck with your group." On impulse he added, "I love you, Peter."

Peter all but beamed through the phone. "I love you, too, Bruce. Call me tomorrow to tell me how it went."

"I will," said Bruce, and they both hung up. For several seconds the penthouse was almost silent, and then Bruce sighed. He was committed. "JARVIS, will you please call Ms. May Parker for me?"

"Certainly, Dr. Banner."

Bruce had only two rings to solidify his courage, and then May was on the line. "Hello?" she said.

Bruce took a deep breath. "Hello, May. It's Bruce. About tonight..."

Bruce arrived precisely at six. He brought wine.

"Bruce." May greeted him with a hug, which he wasn't expecting, but was nice. "I'm glad you decided to still come," she said as they moved inside. "This pork roast has been cooking all day. One way or the other it was getting eaten, even if I had to do it all by myself."

Bruce chuckled. "Well, I am here to help you," he said, setting the bottle on the table. "It certainly smells delicious."

"Why, thank you." May pulled a carving knife from its block. "I could use your help with this part, too, if you don't mind."

Bruce carved the roast while May plated sweet potatoes and green beans. It was awkward at first, maneuvering in the small kitchen together, but once they were seated with wine in their glasses, it felt more like having dinner with an older sister than an in-law. May had a few stories from her workplace lined up that kept the conversation going, to Bruce's relief. He even managed to describe to her his current project at the tower, in simplified terms. Though normally both of them depended on Peter to keep things lively during the dinners they sometimes shared, Bruce and May quickly found they were able to do an admirable job of it themselves.

As was inevitable, the topic eventually shifted to Peter himself. "He called me half an hour before you showed up," May admitted. "Apologizing for not making it. But I think he was secretly asking me to take it easy on you."

Bruce smiled. "He worries about that too much. You haven't been hard on me yet. At least, I don't think you have."

"If I had, you would know it," said May, pouring herself just a tad more wine.

Bruce did the same for himself. "I believe it," he said. He didn't stop smiling, but his eyes pinched. "Though to be honest, I'm not sure you could be any harder on me than I am on myself."

"I believe it," May echoed. "We should go about changing that. From your end, I mean, not mine."

Bruce twirled his glass, watching the wine slosh up against the sides. Just like Peter, she made it sound so easy. Maybe it was that easy. "Can I be honest?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," said May.

Bruce gulped down the wine and then nudged his glass aside so that he wouldn't be tempted to fill it again. "Part of the reason I wanted to still come tonight was so that I wouldn't be alone in the tower. Not that I don't enjoy your company, I-"

May shushed him quiet. "It's all right," she said. "I said my door was always open, didn't I? So let's have it." She finished her wine as well and set her glass next to Bruce's. "You promised."

"I haven't told Peter yet." He winced. "Not that I'm keeping it from him-this only happened today. But..." Even so far into the story he considered retracting, out of habit more than any real discomfort. "Director Fury asked me to become the Hulk for him, and to smash some things."

"That sounds like a rather strange request," said May. "But then, I wouldn't really know."

"It's a strange request," Bruce confirmed. "Even coming from Fury. No one has ever just asked me to smash something for them." He realized immediately after saying it that it wasn't true, and had the fleeting sensation of a gun muzzle pressed to his temple. He shook his head. "All right, actually, Captain America asked me once or twice. But that was different. We were fighting aliens-the lines were so clearly drawn."

"And they're not clear now? Who is he asking you to fight?"

"He's not, it's just..." Bruce sank against the back of his chair. "It's just things. Old planes, old trucks. Garbage."

May stared at him for a moment as if thinking she heard wrong, which only made Bruce want to sink more. Then she smiled. "How dreadful."

Bruce sighed. "I know," he said. "I know it's ridiculous to get worked up over."

"No," said May, and though she was still smiling, her eyes were clear and serious. "No, it isn't. Sometimes it's the seemingly simple things that get to us the most." She leaned forward against the table, working up to saying more. "Peter mentioned something about training sessions with you, and your Hulk."

Bruce was fairly certain that Peter had done more than "mention" their experiments to his aunt, but he appreciated her going easy on him, as always. "He was helping me practice," he said. "But we haven't done that in a while. I...needed a break."

May nodded thoughtfully. "So this would be the first time in...?"

"Almost four weeks."

May licked her lips; she was choosing her words very carefully, and Bruce wondered if it was because of Peter's voice ringing in her ears. "Are you worried that something will go wrong?" she asked.

Bruce only had to give it a moment's thought. "No," he admitted, and a strange mix of relief and resignation washed through him. "Not really. Peter's right: Hulk is more than I've ever given him credit for. I'm not worried about him losing control over something as simple as garbage. And if Peter's willing to come with me, that means there's even less of a chance of anything going wrong."

May chuckled. "'If.'"

Bruce couldn't help but smile, too. "As if I could keep him away."

"Then, if you don't mind my asking..."

"What's the problem?" Bruce had been trying to think of a way to put it into words all afternoon, and though May's gentle patience was certainly helping, his stomach still felt tight and coiled, as if he were leaping over ravines. "It's hard to explain, but...for years, before I met Peter, I never remembered what happened when I was...not myself. I only ever remembered flashes afterward, and untrustworthy ones at that." He took in a deep breath. "Everything's different now. Peter's helped me so much in understanding what happens to me, and it's gotten to the point that I remember a lot. In some cases, a lot more than I'd like."

May winced, only just barely, but enough that Bruce could guess why: Peter had told her about Betty. He wasn't sure how he could see it so clearly, but it was in her face, and he felt oddly glad that she understood without him having to say any more. It made the rest so much easier to admit.

"I thought that by taking a break, I could get away from those memories for a while," Bruce continued. "But they're not going away, and neither is the other guy. In fact, he feels closer now than ever. It's almost as if we've been given a finite amount of control to share between the two of us, and the more I pass to him, the less I have for myself."

"Bruce," May said gently. "Are you sure you're not overthinking things?"

"Maybe. I don't know." Bruce closed his eyes, remembering the pictures from Natasha's phone. It was so easy to imagine himself at the center of a pit of rock and sand, metal between his fingers. "I don't know what will happen to me if I give him more control. I have almost all of his memories, now. What if the next time I change, I..." When Bruce opened his eyes again the first thing he saw was his hands tightly clenching around each other. "What if instead of remembering after the fact, I'm right there with him?"

May leaned back, but before she could say anything, Bruce rambled on. "It's so hard to make anyone understand," he said, keeping his fingers twined so that they wouldn't be seen shaking. "The way the anger just...takes over, like a hurricane-like an explosion, consuming everything. Have you ever felt hate like that? Like the air becomes the ocean and it's just...so heavy, I..." Bruce shook his head, trying to rein himself in before getting carried away. His chest was already tight and the thought of exposing May to any kind of danger made him sick.

The room was quiet for several beats. Bruce forced his hands to ease so he could rub his eyes, could regain composure, but then May spoke, and it snapped him quickly back into his proper senses.

"The angriest I have ever been was almost eleven years ago," May said, and though Bruce himself had never seen her angry, the emotion beneath her voice painted a vivid portrait in his mind. "After they told us that Richard and Mary, Peter's parents, were never coming back. No one really knew why they had left in the first place. Ben was so devastated, and Peter..."

She had to take a moment to collect herself. "But the worst part was when the lawyers showed up," she went on. "Richard had insurance through his work, and there was inheritance to consider. Their house, their assets. Oscorp filed lawsuits against the estate claiming Richard had sabotaged his own office and research before disappearing. They ended up taking a lot. And then came child services." May grew tighter the more she spoke. "Ben and I didn't have any children of our own. We both worked, but we didn't make much. They asked us so many questions-doubted whether we were up to taking care of a young orphan, considering we would never be able to raise Peter in the kind of lifestyle he was used to with his parents. Our own lawyer said the system wouldn't take Peter away from his only blood relatives, but the suggestion was there."

May met Bruce gaze for gaze, her eyes red with eleven years of anger. "And I was furious."

"I..." Bruce swallowed. "Of course."

"Furious," May repeated. "I couldn't sleep, could barely eat. Thankfully, our lawyer was right. It took weeks to work out the paperwork, between the guardianship and the money, but we were able to keep Peter." May straightened up-puffed up not unlike a mother bird. "And then I felt righteous, I guess. But I kept that anger with me for a long time. It would bubble up over stupid things, until finally, Ben, he just looked at me. And he said, 'May, it's okay. You don't have to be afraid anymore.'"

Bruce's heart skipped, and he could only stare as May went on. "And that's when I really understood," she said, nodding to herself as if reliving the moment. "All that time I spent so angry at Richard, and Oscorp, and the lawyers, it was because I was so afraid they would take that little boy away from us. And even now, whenever I feel myself getting angry at the terrible criminals in this city-even the newspeople that report on them-it's the same. It's my fear. Anger isn't like joy, or grief-it doesn't just happen, Bruce. It comes from a place of hurt."

"I know." When Bruce took a deep breath he could feel it in his throat, but he had little trouble swallowing it back. "I know." He smiled bitterly down at his hands in his lap. "I've got a whole lot of hurt, May."

"Maybe he does, too," said May, but Bruce didn't know who she meant until she added, "Your Hulk."

"That's not..."

Bruce frowned, his brow deeply furrowing, but he quickly found that he didn't know what to say. He was glad when May saw as much and carried on in his stead. "To be honest, I know I don't understand everything about who and what you are," she said as she began to collect dishes. "Let alone everything about your Hulk. But it seems to me you might be right there with him already."

Bruce squirmed and tried to say no, but he couldn't get it out. He sighed. "Maybe," he relented. He pushed back from the table. "And if not...maybe it's time I was."

Bruce helped wash the dishes. May turned the radio on, which was a pleasant and well-needed diversion when neither could think of more to say. Bruce called for a cab, and as he was preparing to leave, May handed him a shopping bag holding a plate wrapped in tin foil. "Leftovers," she said, smiling. "You'll probably see Peter before I do, but even if you don't, at least you won't go hungry yourself."

"Thank you, May." Bruce hesitated at the door, and one deep breath later he was able to face May with sincerity. "For tonight-for everything. I am going to work this out."

May smiled. "You had better," she said, and she gave Bruce another hug. "That's my boy you've got tangled up in this."

"I know." Bruce smiled back. "Believe me, I know."

Peter returned to his apartment that night expecting to be greeted by instant macaroni and cheese and another thirty pages of reading to do before his morning class. What he found was Bruce, curled up on his sofa, fast asleep.

He stayed very still and quiet for a few minutes, his brain cycling through concern, amusement, and hope as he tried to puzzle it out. There weren't any messages on his phone, so it couldn't have been trouble. The television was even on, half muted in the corner. Bruce's clothes were perfectly intact as was the apartment surrounding him, so Peter was fairly certain he hadn't Hulked his way in, likely having used the spare key he'd offered only a few days before. He had never really thought Bruce would use it.

Peter toed out of his shoes and set down his backpack. On tiptoes he approached the sofa, thinking that it sure would be nice to just wriggle under Bruce's arm and sleep through Monday morning classes together. But there was still a chance that something was wrong, so he sat down and gave Bruce's back a gentle rub. "Hey. Bruce."

Bruce squirmed and rubbed his eyes. It seemed to take him a moment to figure out where he was as he stretched out and rolled onto his back. "I fell asleep," he said.

"Yeah." Peter smirked. "You sure did. What are you doing here?"

Bruce made a face, but only a few blinks later, he figured it out. "I brought leftovers from your aunt's." He waved toward the kitchen. "They're in the fridge."

Peter tried not to make a face of his own. "Did everything go okay over there?"

"Yeah," Bruce said, and, seeing Peter's doubt, he chuckled. "Yes, dinner was fine. May sends her love."

"You're sure? She didn't give you a hard time?"

"We got along just fine," Bruce insisted. "I was just on my way home, and I thought I might as well drop the food off before I forgot." His smile, sleepy and full of fondness, made Peter melt a little. "And I wanted to see you."

"Good, because I'm starving." Peter leaned down for a quick kiss and then headed for the kitchen. "Would you believe group projects are more draining than being a superhero?"

"Absolutely," said Bruce. He stretched but didn't bother to right himself let alone get off the sofa as Peter prepared the leftovers. "I hated group projects in school. I'm not all that keen on them now, to be honest. But there's only so much science one man can do on his own."

"Yeah..." Peter started the microwave and then glanced back. Bruce was looking awfully thoughtful, and he couldn't help but get a little nervous. For almost a month he felt as though he had walked on eggshells in Bruce's company, careful not to say anything that could even hint at their previous experiments, but it was getting harder all the time, and there were some things he couldn't let lie. "So, what did Fury want?"

Bruce frowned up at the ceiling. "He wants the Hulk to put on a demonstration for him," he said.

Peter's heart gave a thud, and he moved a little closer. "A demonstration of what, exactly?"

"Nothing...dreadful." Bruce hesitated only a moment longer before looking over; Peter took it as a cue and abandoned dinner to return to the sofa. "He wants me to smash some of SHIELD's old garbage for him. He says it's not a test, but it might as well be. He wants to see if I can stay in control."

Peter sat down by Bruce's hip and watched him closely. Only a month ago he would have immediately blurted out all manner of enthusiastic encouragements, but he had learned better. Instead, he managed to keep his face very neutral as he asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm..." Bruce took in a deep breath. "I'm going to do it," he said, and then he nodded, pleased with himself. "I want to do it. And I'd like you to be there."

"Yes," Peter replied immediately. He shook himself. "Yeah, sure, of course. If the director will let me."

"Thank you," said Bruce, but he didn't relax all the way, and Peter braced himself for whatever news was left. "Actually..." Bruce reached down to touch Peter's knee; Peter took his hand. "If you're still coming to the tower on Friday, I want to change for you. It's been a while, and I don't want Hulk's first time 'out' again to be in front of all those people."

Finally. Peter's chest tightened with a swell of eager and apprehensive emotion almost as strong as when he had first resolved to confront Bruce about the Hulk. "That's fine," he said, and then, realizing the falter in his enthusiasm, he added, "I mean, yes. I'm glad, I wasn't..." He squeezed Bruce's hand and leaned into him. "I was starting to think maybe we were back to square one, to be honest. But I didn't want..."

"I know." Bruce smiled reassuringly. "And thank you, for being so patient with me. You're more than I deserve."

"Pssh, you know I hate it when you say things like that."

"Sorry." He gave Peter a tug, and after they'd shared a tender kiss, he motioned back toward the kitchen. "Go ahead and eat," he said. "Unless you're going to save it for tomorrow."

"Naw, I could really use it now." Peter darted in for one more kiss before moving away. "I'll need it to stay awake if I'm going to finish my reading." The pork had already started to cool again, so he restarted the microwave. "You know, if you're so tired, you can just spend the night," he suggested. "I can do my reading in the other room."

At last Bruce hauled himself into a sitting position. "No, I'm up. I mean, I'll spend the night, if you don't mind. But don't worry about me." He chuckled. "I've slept through a lot worse."

Peter believed it. Bruce made it through dinner at least, sharing a few of the things he and May had talked about while Peter enjoyed the leftovers. Though clearly tired, he stayed engaged and awake; once the textbook was out, not so much. Peter didn't mind. He let Bruce pillow his head in his lap, and found that toying with Bruce's hair helped him read. By the time he was finished, he didn't bother getting up for the lights, simply squirming into a more comfortable position so that he wouldn't end up with a sore neck. Bruce looked so peaceful that it didn't seem worth it to wake him just to move them to the bed.

"Demonstration, huh," Peter murmured. He gave Bruce's chest a gentle rub. "I hope you're up for it, big guy."

It may as well have been one of the longest weeks of Peter's life. He tried to keep his mind off the approaching Friday, telling himself that he had met with Hulk plenty of times and it would be no different, but too much was at stake. He couldn't stop thinking about the grainy lab footage, about Hulk waking from nightmares in the middle of the night. Letting the matter drop had seemed like a good idea at the time, but there were so many things he wished he had said or done. He at last had a second chance and he wanted to be prepared so as to not waste it.

He headed up to Bruce's floor as soon as his work for the night was finished. Bruce had already prepared for him; the furniture had been pushed to the walls and the tripod they had been using to monitor their Hulk sessions was already set up and awaiting Peter's camera. The comforter from Bruce's bed was even stretched out on the floor. Bruce himself was setting out the sedatives in their usual places, dressed only in a pair of loose sweatpants and an undershirt.

Peter dropped his things near the wall except for his camera, which he carried toward the tripod. "Please tell me you wore that while in the lab today," he teased as he completed their setup.

"Peter." Bruce placed the last syringe and then took a long gulp from a bottle of water. "Thanks for coming."

Peter chuckled. "You say that as if I'm not here all the time," he said, securing the camera in place. He had just turned it on and was checking its tracking function when Bruce took his elbow, turning him about. His heart skipped and then Bruce was wrapping him up, startling him with a firm kiss.

"Sorry," said Bruce, but then he kissed Peter again anyway.

Peter laughed between their mouths; he was still getting used to Bruce being the one to initiate. "No, it's fine," he said, relaxing into Bruce's arms. "It's so fine."

They moved together, step for step, into the center of the room. Bruce didn't seem to be in any hurry to get to the point of their visit, so Peter didn't push, enjoying each long kiss Bruce offered. It hadn't been that long since the last time they'd shared a night, but he still shivered when Bruce drew their bodies tightly together, and gasped softly when warm fingers slipped beneath his shirt.

"Peter," Bruce said, his nails skimming over Peter's back. "I want to ask you something."

Peter hummed a soft affirmative into Bruce's temple. "Anything."

"It's okay if you don't want to," Bruce went on, swaying a little as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I know how complicated it-"

"Bruce." Peter laced his fingers behind Bruce's neck and then leaned back so he could see his face. "Just ask me."

Even with that encouragement, Bruce didn't answer right away. His jaw was tight with uncertainty but his eyes were flashing and intense. "Remember when you said before that maybe Hulk just needed better memories?" he said carefully, as if he had rehearsed. "You were right. And you're still right." He licked his lips. "I want to ask you if you'll sleep with him."

Peter felt his body go completely still. He wasn't sure what his face did, if anything, but his mind was a total blank, and he almost couldn't keep up with what Bruce said next. "I know it's a lot to ask," Bruce was continuing. "After what happened last time, not to mention...what you've seen. But I've been thinking about it over and over, and I'm pretty sure it's what he really wants." He lowered his eyes as he winced. "I have to start listening to him sooner or later. And you said once before that-"

"Okay," Peter said, but with so little air in his lungs it came out as a breathless rush. "I'll do it."

Bruce met his gaze again, searching. "You're sure?"

"Are you sure?" Peter forced himself to take a deep breath. "I mean, I'm not worried-I know he won't hurt me, but..." He drew his hands forward to rub Bruce's chest. "We've talked before about how he's not really...you."

"He's close enough," said Bruce, but then he frowned. "Unless you're not comfortable with that."

"No, I'm..." Peter couldn't help but laugh at how awkward they both were. "I'm okay with it if you are. Are you okay with it?"

"I think so, yes." Bruce chuckled himself and gave his head a shake. "This is so strange; I'm sorry."

"No kidding it is." But Peter had to admit it was also exhilarating. His heart was already beginning to pound, even more so with every subtle tug and clench of Bruce's hands against his waist. "But nothing between us has ever been normal, right?"

Bruce conceded the point with a kiss. "This time, I'm going to remember," he whispered. "Every single moment. So it's not like I'm going to wake up and be jealous, all right? I promise. Ultimately...it's still me."

"Yeah." Peter nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Let's do this."

"Yes, good."

"Right."

They both hesitated, swaying together indecisively, and then laughed some more. At last Peter broke the tension with a kiss; he loved kissing Bruce anyway, and it was as good a place as any to start. Bruce gladly reciprocated. For a while they let themselves get lost in the familiarity of it. Bruce's hands were sweaty but firm as they peeled Peter's shirt off, just as he'd done a dozen times before. It wasn't until Peter did the same for him that he could feel the change: Bruce's shoulders hitched, and he gulped. As Peter met his lips again, his mouth tasted hotter, and his skin beneath Peter's wandering fingers grew rough.

Peter gulped, too. His pulse rose into his ears and he thought, Can I really do this? But when Bruce tried to shy away, his hands acted without him; he drew Bruce back in, kissed his forehead and cheeks, whispering, "It's okay. It's okay, let it go. I've got you."

Bruce made a quiet sound of protest, but then he reached down, quickly removing his pants. As soon as they were off everything progressed all at once-his muscles swelled, his bones stretched, his skin grew dark and green. Peter was forced to take a step back but he stayed as close as he could, touching and kissing his partner's face until it was Hulk looming over him.

Hulk let out a long sigh. Even having displayed the transformation so many times, he still awed Peter with his sheer size and presence. Peter was certain that would never change.

"Peter," said Hulk. He licked his lips as he crouched down to put them on a more even level. The goose bumps on his massive arms were kind of charming. "Hulk's turn."

"Yeah," Peter replied, but then he laughed, halfway breathless already. "But I don't even know where to start."

Hulk seemed to know. He licked his lips again and reached out, curling his hand around Peter's back. Peter tensed at first-it would have been hard not to, with his instincts reminding him that any careless move on Hulk's part could snap him in half-but Hulk was extremely gentle. The broad fingertips massaging his back could not have been more mindful and affectionate. When Hulk's thumb nudged his stomach he leaned into it, then urged it lower, enjoying the pressure against his abdomen.

"Hulk nice," said Hulk, his already deep voice huskier than normal. His face scrunched as he struggled after the right words. "Good to Peter."

"I know." Peter shivered as he allowed himself to lean more completely into Hulk's support. "I trust you."

Hulk beamed gratefully and took it as permission to continue. He added his other hand, and for a moment Peter was completely enveloped, trapped between Hulk's broad palms. The slow friction of Hulk's rough skin was almost unbearably warm. Peter tried to stay as long as he could, but his heart was already beating frantically-Hulk was being careful but his strength was still overwhelming, and as much as Peter adored him for it, he was having trouble keeping his wits together.

You're fine, he told himself, even closing his eyes. He wondered what they must have looked like-Like a curious kid fingering an action figure, he thought-and laughed. But then Hulk drew him closer, prodding his knees wider, and it wasn't so amusing anymore. Every finger sliding over him was so impossibly sturdy, so impossibly tender, and when Hulk stroked Peter's stomach with the back of his hand, his knuckles made such a perfect little valley. Peter couldn't help but shift his hips forward.

Hulk stopped, but only briefly, and then he was pressing two fingers insistently against the small of Peter's back. Peter obeyed; tentatively at first, he rocked against Hulk's hand, and he had to admit, it was amazing. The apprehension that had been holding his arousal at bay began to fall away, even more so when he gripped Hulk's fingers, giving himself at least an illusion of control. He grinded between Hulk's knuckles and groaned with how swiftly and surely his cock swelled within his work trousers.

Is this what I've wanted? Peter thought, letting Hulk's hand at his back draw him into a gradually mounting rhythm. All this strength, focused just on me... Do I even deserve this? He licked salt from his lips and laughed. "Holy shit, Hulk," he said between panting. "Take these pants off and I could fuck your fingers just like this."

"Yes," said Hulk immediately, and his hands twitching eagerly only made them that much more fun to hump. "Yes, Peter." He shifted on his knees, trying to get closer, looming over Peter. "Yes."

Peter forced himself to stop, but as he reached for his pants, he realized his hands were shaking. Hulk's breath was stirring his hair and he wasn't sure if he was already having the time of his life or was about to run for the door. He was just so much, of everything, and when he looked down, seeing Hulk's huge cock growing flush and hard against those gigantic thighs-

"Hulk." Peter took a few deep breaths and then pushed at Hulk's hands. "Lie down for me."

Hulk growled with ill ease, but Peter was quick to silence him with a few short kisses-which was strange, Hulk's lips being almost as wide as Peter's entire face. "I'm not going to put you to sleep," he said. "I promise. Please, just...lie down for me."

Hulk grumbled, and he gave Peter's crotch a rub as if to coax him back into what they had been doing, but Peter shook his head and again said, "Please."

With a sigh, Hulk relented. As soon as he was settled on his back, Peter stripped out of the rest of his clothes and climbed onto his stomach. Already it was very different, staring down at Hulk's upturned eyes, feeling the giant's body rising and falling beneath him with every breath. It was as if he had tamed a beast-a metaphor not far from truth, really-and was reveling in well-deserved conquest. But at the same time, he was still a beast. It was exhilarating.

Peter sat down, quivering with a feverish sensation as his cock brushed Hulk's too-hot skin. "I am going to give you such good memories," he said.

"Yes," Hulk panted, his already darkened cheeks blushing. "Yes, please, Peter."

Peter squirmed, biting his lip. "Oh man, you can't beg like that. It'll be all over for me."

"Please," Hulk said anyway, though he sounded more demanding than begging, which was even worse. He prodded at Peter's thighs and ass. "Peter, yes, please, please..."

Peter hissed through his teeth. When he raised himself up just enough, Hulk slipped one finger between his cheeks. It was thick and strong, and as it rubbed gently back and forth Peter thought, I bet I could take that. The thought made him giddy, but he wisely kept it to himself. He wasn't sure yet how far Hulk would take any suggestion he gave him.

"Easy," Peter murmured, for both their sakes, as he leaned forward. "Easy."

He pressed a long, wet kiss to Hulk's chest; the muscles straining beneath his lips were so well sculpted he couldn't help but worship them. Nothing in the world was hiding strength like them. He kissed each patch of skin with relish, enjoying the hitch of Hulk's breath. But it was when he sealed his eager mouth over Hulk's right nipple that things got really interesting; Hulk arched beneath him, growling excitedly, his head thrown back. Peter all but vibrated himself, so thrilled with Hulk's reaction that he could have come on the spot. I don't remember Bruce being this sensitive here, he thought, teasing Hulk with a swirl of his tongue. Have I just never noticed, or this a Hulk-only thing? It occurred to him that he should have been bothered by the implication that Bruce and Hulk were separate in yet another capacity, but he couldn't keep a hold of that concern with Hulk all but purring beneath him. As he continued to suck and nibble, he reached across Hulk's chest to give his other nipple a playful pinch.

Hulk growled through his teeth. His massive body shifted, and when Peter glanced behind him, he couldn't help but groan himself at the sight of Hulk drawing his knees up. With one hand still stroking Peter's ass and thighs, the other slid downward, across his clenching abdomen to grip his cock.

Peter could only stare as Hulk began to jerk himself off. Despite several very vivid fantasies he'd nursed in the months since his first mishap with Hulk, he had never even dared to imagine what Hulk pleasuring himself would look like. He tried to stay focused, since Hulk seemed to be appreciating him right where he was, but his own cock was rock hard at what he was witnessing, and he needed to get in on that.

Peter gave Hulk's chest one last sucking kiss before turning himself around. Hulk's body was hot and heaving beneath him, made even more tantalizing by a sheen of trickling sweat. Peter massaged every scrap of muscle he could reach as he scooted down Hulk's abs. "Easy," he said again, touching Hulk's wrist. "Don't rush." He smiled at Hulk over his shoulder. "Let me help you with this part."

Hulk snorted mightily, and his cheeks puffed with irritation, but he relented. He halted his pumping fist and instead reached lower, fondling his just-as-impressive sack. Peter could barely see the tendons in his forearm tensing with restraint. They were works of art as far as he was concerned, but there were other parts of him even more deserving of attention.

"Peter," Hulk said urgently. He slid his thumb beneath his cock so he could angle it better toward Peter. "Peter, please. Please..."

"Holy shit..." Peter gulped, but he didn't hesitate. He nestled into the crook of Hulk's hip and braced his heel in the opposite thigh, just to give himself better stability, and finally he reached forward. The first touch of his hand skimming up the underside of Hulk's cock proved it necessary; Hulk bucked involuntarily, and Peter might have been thrown if he hadn't stuck instinctually in place. "Whoa," he said, chuckling, and then he did it again, stroking with his entire open palm up to Hulk's swollen head. "You really are sensitive."

Hulk's deep-throated growl sounded almost threatening, but it only excited Peter more. He circled Hulk's great organ with both hands, exploring slowly at first. Root to tip he followed each vein and skin fold-he wanted Hulk to feel every precious inch of his own miraculous body. Hulk shuddered beneath the attention, groaning and panting like nothing Peter had ever heard before. When Peter squeezed the base of his head with both hands, he hissed wetly and his cock twitched between Peter's fingers as if at the point of bursting, but Peter hushed him.

"Not yet," Peter said, breathless and light-headed, as he maneuvered closer. It took some coaxing to get Hulk's hand out of the way, but once he had, he was able to brace his feet in Hulk's parted thighs and straddle his cock properly. Drawing the shaft up between his legs, feeling it press hard and naked against his body, drove Peter almost out of his senses. He stroked and squeezed, rubbing against it with his thighs, his stomach, his own aching dick, spurred on by Hulk's growing rumbles of pleasure. When he was confident that Hulk wasn't about to buck him again, he even bent down to add his mouth. Not that he could take much in-Hulk was simply too big-but he licked and sucked and reduced Hulk to whimpers. When he tongued the slit he could have sworn he heard Hulk swear.

This is insane. Peter groaned at his own audacity as he thrust against Hulk's cock and felt Hulk thrust against him in return. But this is huge. He smacked his lips and couldn't help but laugh. Not just huge, but, important. This is important for him. He stretched his arms down and squeezed Hulk with as much of his body as he could. God I hope Bruce remembers how good this feels.

Hulk's toes curled as his voice grew ragged to the point of gasping. Peter could feel his hands close by, hovering indecisively, only their fingertips occasionally gracing Peter's back. This is important, he told himself again, and he snagged Hulk's thumb. He needs this.

Peter drew Hulk's hand up against his side. "Easy," he said, though he wasn't sure if Hulk could hear. "I trust you, Hulk. I trust you."

Hulk moaned in reply. He tried to flinch away at first, but then Peter gave him another tight squeeze, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from touching Peter at last. He started at Peter's back, massaging the small of his back. Then he was rubbing Peter's thighs with his fingers. When he hooked one around Peter's chest it startled him for only a moment, but his trust was not misplaced. Even when Hulk's body acted without him, pumping up against Peter's stomach, his hands were adoring. He enveloped Peter in heat and strength in a way Peter had never felt before, and it was thrilling, intoxicating.

It was too much to last for long. Peter held on as long as he could, grinding and clinging and mouthing, but he felt as if his sweat was boiling off his skin and his insides coiling into knots. Then Hulk thrust with his hips one last time, and Peter was just quick enough to lean back to avoid taking a shot to the face. It was too much, feeling Hulk throb between his thighs, hearing him groaning in ecstasy; Peter collapsed back into Hulk's broad palms and came, shaking with release, until he was utterly spent and exhausted.

At first, Hulk let him go. His wide hands curled and flexed overhead as if he had no idea what to do with them, and it wasn't until Peter caught his breath that he considered why. "It's okay," Peter said, drawing them back down. He flopped onto his back, stretching out across Hulk's chest to better feel the little quivers of pleasure still rippling across his rough skin. "Come here." He tugged Hulk's hands over him as if they were a blanket and sighed. "There."

"Peter..." Hulk was still panting himself, and his hands were tense with restraint. Gradually, he calmed. With Peter's continued reassurances he even rubbed his thumb against Peter's chest with cautious affection. "Peter good?"

"Yeah." Peter wriggled happily onto his side so he could press a kiss to Hulk's chest. "You're really something, you know that?" He craned his neck trying to get a look at Hulk's face, but he couldn't from his angle, and with a tired grumble he finally sat up. "You know that," he said again. "Right?"

Hulk blinked at him. He seemed to struggle for a moment, but then he smiled-that same twisted half smile that Peter knew so well on a smaller face. "Hulk is really something."

Peter laughed, and he crawled forward to kiss Hulk's chin. But as he leaned back, folding his arms across Hulk's collar bones as his world rose and fell beneath him, something tugged in his chest. He licked his lips. "You know," he said quietly, "to be honest, I'm pretty sure I don't understand exactly how this works. What you are, how you and Bruce fit together..." He rose up on his elbows. "But it kind of doesn't matter to me. Because I love you both. Just in, well, different ways. Do you understand?"

Hulk stared straight back at him. There was something deep and vulnerable in his eyes then, and though he didn't even try to reply with words, Peter understood. He covered Peter with both hands as in prayer. "I know it's not always fair to you," Peter went on, "but you're okay, right? I mean, it's not such a bad arrangement we've got going now. You, and Bruce, and me. We...work. Don't we? We can make this work?"

Hulk swallowed and took a deep breath, but again he didn't attempt to speak. He just nodded-and then again-and held Peter tighter. Peter started to say more, but then he couldn't think of the words, either, so he kissed Hulk again and settled in against his chest. He ached with emotion and couldn't stop smiling.

Bruce woke up on the sofa, covered in a sheet. It was starting to feel as natural as waking up in a bed.

He sat up. There was a glass of water on the table next to him, but it took him a moment to spot Peter; he was dressed in a T-shirt and boxers, hanging upside down as he cleaned something off the ceiling. Bruce rubbed his eyes. "Peter?"

Peter twisted, and with a nervous grin he dropped lightly to the floor. "Hey." He tossed his rag onto the comforter piled up against the wall. "Well? How much do-"

Bruce stood, sheet ignored, and drew Peter to him. "Everything," he said, wrapping Peter up in his arms. "I remember all of it."

Bruce stood overlooking the quarry. It was deeper than it had looked in the pictures, with steep, jagged walls. As promised, the bottom was lined with a variety of SHIELD vehicles, looking dusty and grim in the early morning light. Bruce squinted at them, trying to pretend that they were alien vessels crawling with otherworldly invaders, but then he shook his head. They were just trash. Just leftovers for him to crumple and discard.

Peter's hand slid into his, and Bruce squeezed back, tracing a line of rubber with his thumb. "I'm okay," Bruce said automatically. "They're just things. It's just practice." He looked to Peter with a smile. "Just like we've done before."

Peter smiled back. "I'll be watching," he said.

He wasn't the only one. Bruce glanced behind him to where Fury and his entourage were lined up: Maria, Natasha, Steve, and Clint had all come to watch, dressed casually in contrast to the half a dozen soldiers Fury had allowed to tag along. If Bruce didn't know better he would have thought they coordinated their efforts to put him at ease. One upon a time he would have thought it hollow encouragement, but he found he didn't mind. When Steve smiled at him, he even smiled back.

"Any requests?" Bruce asked them.

"Tie a tank barrel into a pretzel," said Natasha.

"A poodle," said Clint.

Fury crossed his arms. "Just stay focused," he said. "Do what you're here to do."

But this isn't a test, right? Bruce thought with a smirk. He turned back toward the quarry and gave Peter's hand a shake before letting go. "Okay, here we go." He stripped out of his shirt and shoes, which Peter took from him. "I'll be right back."

"Good luck," said Peter, and he backed away.

Bruce took a deep breath and held it. Just things, he told himself again. It's just a job to do. He moved closer to the edge, surrendering with each step. He could feel the pressure building all through his veins, pounding out from his chest, and he welcomed it. By the time his toes were hanging over the drop his sight had grown dark, and he closed his eyes as if that would help it along. Okay, big guy. The wind pushed at his back, making it that much easier to tip forward. You're up.

It was a long drop. The quarry walls blurred into featureless gray, the quarry floor into jagged, black shapes like lumps of coal. Hulk landed on all fours, stone buckling under his weight. The world came into focus all around him. He didn't waste any time.

The jets came first. A fist through every windshield, destroying the instruments and crushing the cockpits. Wings torn off as easily as if they were dragonflies. Engine turbines became brass knuckles and tailfins became carving knives. Everything, smashed. Everything in pieces, like toppled Lego castles. It was so easy, digging his hands into the belly of each wounded vehicle, splitting them apart. Breaking, tearing, stomping. Rending into bits.

They were for him. Have fun, everyone had said. Did they really think it was fun? To burn beneath the skin with a lifetime's regrets and grudges? To be judged and blamed for existing, and then to find release only to be judged and blamed again? They didn't know. Hulk wielded one jet into the next, folding them over each other, and was tempted to toss one Fury's way. Maybe he would understand then how fun it was living as someone else's monster.

But no, no, Peter was up there. Peter wouldn't like that.

Tanks, then. Tanks were hardier. Tanks had strong walls, heavy treads. Hulk took one by the barrel and swung, ripping the turret from the hull with a spray of metal. The shredding steel made a sound like screaming, and Hulk screamed back, because he could. Now when things screamed, he could scream back. He pried the tank open, reached deep into its engine. He ripped its heart free and crushed it in his palm. Slick oil felt like blood between his fingers. Kill this beast, he thought. Stop it from screaming. You can scream back, now.

More tanks. More jets. Decimating them, using them. Hating every one of them. Hulk pried the treads loose with his teeth; he emptied their engines on the rock. They'd had too much to drink, he thought, and he emptied them. But even empty they still hated him, so Hulk hated them back, and took them apart, piece by piece.

The turbine was last. It was bigger than him, a lot bigger, but Hulk wasn't afraid. He couldn't afford to be afraid-no time to be afraid. Fear made men puny, and he wasn't puny anymore. He could scream back, he could fight back, he had to fight back.

Hulk is strong, he thought as he plunged his fists into his looming prey. Hulk, strong. Strong. Be stronger. He clawed his way to the top and forgot everything but his hate, using it with every swing of his arms. He smashed iron into steel into titanium. He smashed plates and bolts and blades. Be stronger, he thought as he pounded five perfect knuckle dents into the core. Be stronger, he thought as he bellowed and cried. Be stronger, you puny insect, you worthless child, you cowardly little monster. Why aren't you stronger? He smashed and smashed and the thing fell apart around him, but it made no damn difference. Why aren't you stronger? Be stronger, be-

Something struck Hulk's back. He almost didn't notice. The enemy was still in front of him, in shambles, but there was more he could do-he hadn't done enough. He couldn't do enough. But then the something touched the back of his neck, and without thinking he took a breath. His arms shuddered in the grip of his own terrible momentum, but he reined them in, forced them to the quarry floor. He remembered a voice in his ear, and it sharpened into the present, no louder or more urgent than it needed to be.

"Hulk. Hulk, it's me. You can stop, now."

Hulk stopped. His breath heaved between his clenched teeth and his muscles writhed against his bones, but he stopped. The weight on his back gave him focus, and with one more deep breath he looked around at the destruction he had caused. Every vehicle had been annihilated. The turbine could have taken more, and Hulk would have gladly obliged it, but Peter was telling him he didn't have to. He could stop.

Hulk scraped his hand over his face to get the sweat out of his eyes. "Peter."

"Yeah." Peter gave his shoulder a thump and then jumped down in front of him. He looked up at Hulk with cautious enthusiasm. "You did a really good job."

Hulk looked again. He had smashed a lot. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Peter cocked his head to the side. "Are you okay?"

Hulk shifted back and forth. When he glanced again to the turbine his palms itched, and he grumbled with dissatisfaction. Be stronger. But then he shook his head. He remembered aliens, and mutants, and a runaway truck. He remembered Peter tangled in his fingers and draped across his chest. "Hulk is strong," he said.

"Damn right he is," said Peter, beaming. "Let's go tell Director Fury that."

Hulk scooped Peter up onto his shoulder, but before he left, he grabbed a mangled tank barrel.

Everyone backed away a few steps when Hulk climbed over the edge of the quarry. After letting Peter down, he turned his attention on the length of metal in his hands. It took almost no effort for him to bend it into a letter A, and he dropped it at Fury's feet. Everyone stared.

"Hulk pass," Hulk grunted.

Fury looked down at the metal, then back up. A hint of a smile that might have even been a bit apologetic tugged at his lips. "Yeah. I'd say so."

"Hulk pass," he said again. "Hulk fight. No more test."

Fury frowned, seemingly taken aback, but he nodded. "All right, it's a deal. No more tests."

He moved away, so Hulk turned the others. He grimaced in preparation of their unease and scorn, but when Steve was the first to approach there was no hesitation and no malice in his face. "Good job," said Steve, and he shook Peter's hand. "Both of you. Nat said you've put a lot of work in."

"We have," Peter said brightly. He gave Hulk's arm a rub. "And we're going to keep at it. Right?"

Hulk blinked at him, but then the others came closer, too. Clint gave him a salute and Natasha a high five. Maria said something about a uniform. There might have been some lingering stiffness among them, but when Hulk crouched down on his haunches they met him at eye level and didn't flinch away.

"Tony," said Hulk, scrunching his nose.

"We'll show him next time," Peter said immediately, ruffling Hulk's hair. "He's going to want to see you in action, too."

Hulk nodded. As everyone started cracking jokes about Tony, he even grinned. A few of Fury's soldiers ventured closer, and Hulk allowed each to poke his bicep. Two took selfies. And the whole time Peter remained at his side, protective but not overly so, his smile radiant. He never waned.

Hulk didn't need to concentrate at all to say, "Peter strong."

Peter glanced to him in surprise. He chuckled self-consciously. "Not as strong as you."

"No." Hulk leaned in closer; he needed Peter to understand. "Peter strong."

Peter chuckled some more, but as Hulk continued to watch him, the words finally seemed to dig in. His smile grew warmer, and he squeezed Hulk's thumb tight. "Thanks."

Hulk smiled back, and then he closed his eyes. He let the waves roll over him, until he felt a familiar pressure at the base of his throat, gradually expanding into his weary body. Be stronger, Bruce, he thought as it took him over. Be as strong as Peter.

And as Bruce overtook him, he thought he heard an answer.

I will.