semprezangado | for [nonstopnarcissist]

Portuguese, Bengali, Hindi, Wakandan, Russian, Hungarian, Farsi- [ Understanding the mechanics help a little with dealing.

Also he might've planned a global hunt for Bruce if he popped back up on planet and hadn't made contact.

He turns to press his nose into Bruce's shoulder, inhaling the smell of freshly brewed tea and skin; letting it curl around his hindbrain and settle him. ] I could probably help you with your pronunciation.

Oh my god, you pain in the ass. [But his fingers are in Tony's hair again, scratching gently at his scalp. Like giving punitive cuddles to a misbehaving cat.]

Admittedly, my accent isn't that great. I once told someone who was getting me dangerously close to a code green that he wouldn't like me when I'm hungry.

You love me. [ And it's as light as it isn't, as teasing as it is full of quiet awe and wonder that this is his-

And dropped off in favor of the not-purring he does when his hair's pet. ]

Angry and Hungry are pretty close together, and I have seen you hangry. You're adorable and terrifying at the same time.

I do. [He'll leave it at that, because it's not a Thing that Tony's entirely comfortable with yet. And that's okay. They're going slow, because both of them need to go slow in their own way.

And anyway, Tony's purring against his chest and that's too adorable to pull away from.]

You kids and your hip talk.

I am older than you, I think. [ He sips his coffee, tipping his head up to smile at Bruce, eyes soft and still so full of quiet joy, of awe. This is his. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve it, but. ]

By a few years.

Are you? I'm forty-eight in a week and a bit. [That look that Tony gives him is -- everything. His hand stills at the back of Tony's neck and he kisses his forehead, the bridge of his nose. Gently reassuring.

He's here, they're here. This is real.]

Huh, holy shit. You've got me beat by a year.

[ Not much of one, but a year none the less and he huffs a soft laugh- putting aside his coffee (and that's a sign, putting down coffee in favor of paying attention to Bruce) to loop his arms around Bruce's waist. ]

What do you want for your brithday?

I hadn't really thought about it. I didn't know I was going to be spending it with anyone. [Oh, that's a huge compliment. Having Tony snuggle against him instead of drinking coffee, and Bruce rewards him with a nuzzling kiss to the top of his head.]

I don't tend to really celebrate. But if you wanted to do something I would not deny you. I know you like a party.

Less 'party' and more 'nice dinner you don't have to cook' or something. Just...you and me, no work and no stress.

[ He'll have something finished by then. He's not sure what, but it'll be something, and it'll be something to make Bruce smile. He'll just...figure that out. For now he's burrowing into Bruce's chest, head tipped to rest his ear against his sternum, reveling in his heartbeat. ]

I could do that. I might even invest in some decent clothes for it.

[He'd be happy with the tea kettle Tony is sketching out. He'd be happy with whatever Tony came up for him, because Tony is trying so damn hard to just do nice things for him. And it's sweet in the small ways that Tony tends to be. Bringing snacks to their work session, making sure he was always stocked with Bruce's favourite tea.

He can't help but smile when Tony burrows into him and he rubs his hand over Tony's shoulders.] Comfy?

So damn huggable, remember? [ Tea kettle- tea pot-

Tea set. He can do a set, it'll be fine work and give him more room to work with a sense of symmetry and style- something simple and durable, portable. Something Bruce could take anywhere. He files these ideas away, nuzzling him a little, current project forgotten in favor of just...breathing.

The endless itch to do SOMETHING is still there but- muted. Easier to ignore right now when he's tucked close, safe. ] I stand by my assessment, honeybear.

[It's Tony's version of meditation, he realizes. Listening to Bruce's heart like Bruce sets his metronome when he meditates, keeping his breath steady and calm and even.

Well hell, if he can do that for Tony then, he's happy to. Something to repay Tony for all his help.]

I can still hear your brain going. [But it's said softly and he pushes his fingers through Tony's hair, down to stroke the back of his neck, across his shoulders.]

It's always going. [ His eyes slip halfway closed, leaning back into Bruce's hands for a moment before rolling forward to rest against his chest. The mechanics of a heart, lungs, body- he knows these things if only due to knowhing how much his own set was worse for wear. Something about hearing Bruce so solid and healthy smooths the anxious little loops of his mind into quiet.

His hands do the rest. ]

I can't stop it. I've tried some impressively stupid shit, trying to get it to go quiet for an hour.

We can work on it together. Work on your breathing, focusing your energy. -- I have an idea. It's going to sound weird, but go with me on this for a minute?

[With the deepest reluctance he unwraps from Tony, but takes his hand to tug him towards the bed. Bruce sits up against the headboard, legs parted so Tony can fit himself between them]

Come sit back against my chest.

I've tried it. If it exists, I've tried it, and the only things that work reliably are scotch, opiates, or orgasm. Scotch only slows it down, opiates shut everything down but I haven't dipped my toe into that since I graduated, and orgasm's- fleeting.

[ Fun, but fleeting. But this- it slows, quiets, and he's good here for now- reluctant to let Bruce leave- but leave he does and Tony follows along, brows lifted. Quietly curious. ]

This seems very middle school. [ And yet, right into the space made for him he goes, leaning back against Bruce without a moment's hesitation. ]

And that's why you have to trust me here. Get comfortable, close your eyes, just concentrate on breathing.

[Once Tony is comfortable, Bruce starts smoothing his fingertips along his forehead, starting in the middle and moving across his temples, down his jaw to his chin. He keeps his touch featherlight, alternating between long sweeping strokes and gentle tapping.

It probably feels weird at first but if Tony is willing to trust him, it's also quite soothing.]

If you insist but, Bruce, I've tried meditating before- [ His brain just flicks through old problems- it's how he got good at designing shit in his head without the use of hoograms or even paper. Vivid mental imagry is useful up until it helps him relive unpleasant shit.

So.

Sitting, breathing, brow furrowing at the stroking and tapping. ]

This is some weird foreplay, Banner.

[Bruce sighs and wraps his arms around Tony instead. Betty had used to do that to him, when he was struggling with insomnia and working too late. Maybe he's doing it wrong. Or maybe Tony's brain just can't shut off.]

It's meant to help you relax and fall asleep. Or at least zone out a bit.

Oh...you'll need a regular pattern, then. Anything intermittent and I wind myself up trying to predict the changes. [ He slumps back against Bruce, reaching up to curl a hand around his wrist, feeling the steady thud of his pulse under his hand and against his back.

That, that helps. ]

...Keep trying? It can't hurt.

Your poor brain. [But he does try again, just stroking lightly this time. Keeping the same circuit from forehead to chin each time.

The tea is all well and good for getting him to sleep at night, but if he can do something to get Tony to take a break during the day then that would be ideal]

[ It's a different kind of touch. Too light to be arousing, too intimate to be casual. It's odd for the first few strokes before he's able to synch his breathing with Bruce's, mind ticking down from sixth gear to fifth, then fourth.

Gradually the small knot of tension he carries at the base of his skull goes loose and that? That helps. ]

[It does seem to be helping, at least. Tony is relaxing bit by bit, and Bruce will take those bits. It's better than nothing, honestly.

He keeps his breathing steady to help Tony do the same with his. Maybe if he can lull him into a nap, that'd be nice]

[ Little by little his mind goes distant. Quiet. Not shut down entirely but enough that more than even one night of good rest can help; the exhaustion of going endlessly forward since The accords, since ultron, since Afghanistan- catches up.

His breath evens out as his head tips heavily back aginst Bruce's shoulders, breath soft puffs through parted lips, body at rest. ]

[... oops, he did not think this through. But honestly, having Tony nap on top of him isn't the worst thing.

It's cozy, actually. And it's gratifying, to see Tony's face relaxed like this. Peaceful.

So one arm goes lightly around him while the other hand continues stroking his cheek, and eventually Bruce closes his eyes too]

[ It lasts longer than he would've thought, if he thought he'd actually pass out. An hour, an hour and a half? Long enough to hit REM running and tipped backward like this? There are only a few places his mind can go.

None of them are fun.

It's a weird mixture of the two, a high whine, an invisible force rendering him impossibly still- Roger's form indistinct in Malibu which was freezing- bringing the shield down again and again and again-

just because you have an idea doesn't mean it belongs to you-

He flinches, snapping sharply awake, heart racing, breath ragged and incomplete and god he misses being able to breathe- ]

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