Dr R. Bruce Banner

❝ Mmm. See? We need to fix that ❞  Gleefully points out, shaking with carrot at him. He knows Hell’s Kitchen like the back of his hand and was determined to show Bruce around it. However those plans and the smile on the lawyer’s face quickly begin to dissipate as the other continues to talk.

❝ Next time? ❞  He repeats, visibly concerned, leaning forward in his seat. ❝ So you’re leaving soon? ❞ He asks, dead serious. Honestly not even thinking about the other night.

Bruce’s foot held still as he smiled, there wasn’t a part of him that doubted Matt would hold up that end of the deal. That they’d fix it. If it was the next legal meeting or just catching up, Bruce felt confident that soon the pair would be sitting in a Greek restaurant, likely listening to Matt talk about how it was the best in the city. He mumbled in agreement, afraid of what he’d say if he opened his mouth. 

❝ It’s not easy ❞

That’s an understatement as he returns, taking a seat at the table across from the other man.  Making himself comfortable his hand reaches over the table, feeling around until he hits the raw carrots, picking one up and starts chewing away on it.

❝ But there’s places if you know where to look. Farmers markets, co-ops, greek restaurants no one’s ever heard of. Oh, and if you want real Thai there’s this place on 38th street  – * chomp* – good stuff  ❞

“Processed, imitation cheese is a no but every spice in the rack on some noodles is a yes. The parameters here are intriguing to say the least,” Bruce said with a laugh. He’s enjoying himself even with the weird missteps. 

Leaning back in his chair, leg crossed over the other with his foot idly shaking in the air. The spoon dragging against the ridges of the can as Bruce takes another bite. “I haven’t had decent Greek in far too long.” taking a pause, trying to balance seriousness and humor. “Maybe the next time I’m in town. Promise I won’t, well, repeat this visit.” 

❝ Really, it’s fine ❞

He insists, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. Bruce was already going out of his way by cooking didn’t want to put the guy out any further with his weird self-imposed dietary restrictions. Undoing his tie circles back, still trying to talk his friend down, not wanting him to feel bad for doing good.

❝ During college I ate almost exclusively processed crap and I made it out alive ❞

Steps into the bathroom.

❝ You could try snooping around my pantry ❞

Usually eating out and never having people over he doesn’t keep very well stock, but there might be SOMETHING lying around.

The cards were maxed, Bruce knew he wasn’t going to get far on these but he just needed to transfer funds and do what he always does. This is all extremely normal, though. Putting the wallet back, happy with giving up already. 

Bruce takes the time to wash the carrots but there’s not much else. All he can remember is cooked carrots are bland and mushy and see far more offensive than mac and cheese. Finding a plate, Bruce puts it on the table, and grabs a can of chili and a spoon to sit opposite the waiting carrots. 

“How do you live here and not still eat exclusively processed crap? I stayed with Jen for a couple days and it was nothing but Thai noodles. Not even always fresh. It’s so easy to do.” 

❝ Butylated Hydroxyanisole, Sodium Nitrates, MSG – ❞

The lawyer begins counting off his fingers a long list of big words most people don’t even think about when eating, but he can taste every molecule of. That, along with being a health nut is why he was so particular about what he ate and had become such a normal part of his life he doesn’t realize ridiculous it must have sound until hearing himself say it out loud.

❝ Just make whatever you like, and i’ll like it too ❞

He concedes, scratching the back of his neck, starting towards the front entrance to take his jacket off.

Well, that high was short-lived. Bruce’s shoulders slumped. He’d purchased nothing but bags of artificial flavors and more preservatives than was healthy. He shopped for himself.  Reaching to the counter, Bruce picked up the only thing he could think would work. “I have carrots. They aren’t even organic. And, uh, ther-there’s milk?” 

Bruce tosses the carrots back down, knowing that’s not a good enough answer. Shaking off feeling like an idiot, not letting himself feel miserable because for three minutes there he was feeling fantastic. Glad to be in the company of friends, not wanting to run far away from a social situation, it was too good of a time to mope. 

❝ Oh no, I want to be here for this ❞

The lawyer replies, unperturbed, relaxed frame leaning against a counter, lower back hitting the rim.  Without mentioning why he did tell Foggy his lunch hour might run over, so it should be okay, and even if it wasn’t he really wouldn’t have been able to keep himself away from all this now.

❝ NEVER had anyone cook from me before ❞

Having lunch with Bruce would be a good chance for them to properly catch up, which was something they really needed to do, especially after the other night…

“Do I hear doubt in your voice?” Bruce mocked, he was one to brag at any given moment but this? He was okay at failing at this. Bad cooking was still eating so this was a step up from some days. 

“Well, glad the bar is set low but get ready to...not be wowed,” Bruce gave a sincere laugh as he surveyed the goods, trying to decide what to make. He was in a far better mood than when he climbed into bed with Matt. But a few days of sleep and eating the city out of food are pretty good at boosting moods. 

Couldn’t argue with that as he goes to follow the other into the kitchen, feeling more at ease then he had all day, in great part due to the prospect of food. Almost felt like he could give Bruce a run for his dining bill, after running out on lunch and generally just never eating enough…

❝ How considerate of you, Dr. Banner ❞

He teases, not knowing how else to express his gratitude.

❝ You want a hand with that or –? ❞

Bruce wiggled his shoulders and bobbed his head at being called Dr. Banner by Matt. It was ridiculous and therefore his response was too. Putting the bags on the counter he pulled out cans of chili, boxes of mac and cheese, a bunch of carrots that were in there purely because couldn’t remember the last he’d eaten a fresh vegetable. 

It was all disgusting bachelor food but, save the mac and cheese, it was all food you could eat on the run. Granola bars, candy bars, peanut butter. Filling, cooking not mandatory, cheap, and easy to steal. The Bruce Banner diet. He did splurge, though, and put the ice cream cake into the freezer.