"You fought? You fought and you won." Banner, who never fought himself- who had The Other Guy to handle that shit. Who couldn't remember the actual battle but lived through the aftermath. Who, on more than one occasion, Tony resented for being able to roll through everything that was thrown at them without being hurt. There was trauma, of course there was fucking trauma, but Banner wasn't terrified of fucking space when it used to be a source of joy, something to strive for, something to explore- Banner didn't have fucked up ribs or a shiny new scar in his lower left quadrant with a matching slice on his back. Banner didn't have to step up and untangle the socio-political mess their work and their attempts to save the world left behind.
Aware of the collateral damage? Always.
Having to actually fucking deal with it? Never.
But that as on Tony trying to keep life easy for him. Comfortable. Safe. Not that it kept him close. Not that he blamed Bruce for leaving. He was happy to see Bruce, he was, relief ran thick in his veins but- complicated sentiment tangled with rational thought and detached frustration, swinging widely between leaning back into how it was before Bruce ever left and establishing a new, firmer boundary. He'd learned once not to talk so much about his issues- he'd since learned not to trust so openly and easily. Cracking his chest open for casual perusal was more painful than worthwhile. "That's insane."
Time spent stirring the coals gave him a moment to collect himself. Get his game face on because- he'd had his brief moments of dealing (or rather violently repressing his emotions to not have to deal). Bruce? Was having his well deserved implosion. Tony poured out a mug of water, wandering back, crouching in front of Bruce because he could (his knees didn't pop his spine didn't pop his shoulders didn't ache and he could breathe.), offering it up. "He's always been you, buddy."
Bigger, greener, angrier- maybe more honest. But this? This was worrying. He made a rough attempt at wiping his hands clean before resting them on Bruce's shoulders, eyes dark, focus centered on Bruce.
no subject
Aware of the collateral damage? Always.
Having to actually fucking deal with it? Never.
But that as on Tony trying to keep life easy for him. Comfortable. Safe. Not that it kept him close. Not that he blamed Bruce for leaving. He was happy to see Bruce, he was, relief ran thick in his veins but- complicated sentiment tangled with rational thought and detached frustration, swinging widely between leaning back into how it was before Bruce ever left and establishing a new, firmer boundary. He'd learned once not to talk so much about his issues- he'd since learned not to trust so openly and easily. Cracking his chest open for casual perusal was more painful than worthwhile. "That's insane."
Time spent stirring the coals gave him a moment to collect himself. Get his game face on because- he'd had his brief moments of dealing (or rather violently repressing his emotions to not have to deal). Bruce? Was having his well deserved implosion. Tony poured out a mug of water, wandering back, crouching in front of Bruce because he could (his knees didn't pop his spine didn't pop his shoulders didn't ache and he could breathe.), offering it up. "He's always been you, buddy."
Bigger, greener, angrier- maybe more honest. But this? This was worrying. He made a rough attempt at wiping his hands clean before resting them on Bruce's shoulders, eyes dark, focus centered on Bruce.