Bruce Banner Appreciation Blog

“I don’t know what I’m going to do."

Bruce frowned at his long-time crush and good friend Tony Stark as he watched the beer tilt back and forth in his glass, looking particularly forlorn for the Friday before Christmas. Tony was many, many things – beyond generous, painfully attractive, incredibly intelligent, wicked funny and unbelievably fun to be around – but reasonable he was not. Over time Bruce had learned that most of the problems Tony had weren’t really problems at all – because he could solve actual problems with great ease, barely noticing that they’d be mountainous stumbling blocks to other people. But for some reason beyond Bruce’s ability to ascertain, certain social situations got the best of him and the idea of going to his best friend’s wedding without a date? Insurmountable.

It was frustrating as hell. And stupidly adorable – though Bruce was loath to admit it. It was just one of those things about having a long-standing crush – he was simply exhausted by it. If only his faithful heart could find someone else, preferably someone actually interested in him, so that he could stop pining away over how adorable Tony was even when he was being an unmitigated disaster.

“You know,” Bruce said slowly with a sly smile, sliding his beer nearer to himself, “you could go without a date."

Tony sighed a long huffy sigh, rolling across the bar pathetically as Bruce tried not to laugh.

“I can’t go without a date, Bruce,” he whined, drawing out his name in a particularly plaintive way. “Everyone is going to be there. This is the worst time for a dry spell."

“And who is ‘everyone’ exactly?"

“Everyone I went to high school with, at least."

Bruce blinked in confusion as Tony stared at him, looking both cute and pathetic with his mouth turned down and his big eyes all simpering and his hair slowly wilting over his forehead as his pomade gave up on its battle with gravity.

The sun was just starting to blaze over the horizon line when they pulled wearily into Josie Miller’s driveway. Tony’s eyes finally betrayed a sense of nervousness when he stared at the bleach white house with the rose bushes pruned to perfection across the front and the numbers eight, seven, and two in black wrought iron displayed prominently by the red door with a flag wreath on the front, surely a holdover from the Fourth of July.

Tony reached over and grabbed Bruce’s hand, squeezing it tight before Bruce switched off the ignition and opened the door. He warned Tony not to be too obvious about their relationship – he wasn’t sure what his mom had told Mrs. Miller and people in midwestern Ohio could still be pretty weird when face to face with actual gay people.

He didn’t even have to ring the doorbell before the door swung open and an older lady in a zip-front pink robe with greying hair tied back in a braid that was coming undone greeted them. It had probably been ten years since he’d seen her and she looked nothing like he remembered really but she gave him a tight smile, clearly remembering him.

“You got here just in time – I think she’s waking up,” Mrs. Miller said, ushering them in with a curious look for Tony, locking and bolting the door behind them.

“This is Tony,” Bruce was saying quietly. “He’s my – uh – my roommate.”

“Oh my god, stop! You're going to make that poor cat sick!”

Tony’s voice was shrill but they were both laughing, watching one of their two new cats sniff and tentatively lick at a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream Bruce held out to him.

“I’m telling on you,” Tony teased as he whipped out his phone. “Clint is going to hear all about this.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and shoved the spoon in his own mouth, shooting Bixby an apologetic look as he reached out to scratch under his chin, holding the spoon between his lips.

Bixby was a beautiful, friendly, outgoing young cat with slick silver-gray fur and a puff of a tail that fanned out when he held it up and the shelter said he was quite popular but bonded closely with another cat named Simon and they had to go together. Simon, on the other hand, was old and fat and grumpy and he hated kids and he hated dogs and he didn’t really even like any other cats besides Bixby – and they would be found curled up together half the day. Tony laughed and laughed and said it was perfect and Bruce scowled. They weren’t planning on getting two cats, but they also weren’t planning on having kids or dogs – at least no time in the foreseeable future – so it was okay.

And when the volunteer at the shelter finally wrangled Simon into the meet and greet room he curled up behind Bruce’s feet and wouldn’t move and the volunteer called everyone else in to see it because apparently that was abnormal. Apparently his normal response was to tuck himself up in a corner and spit at everyone as Bixby charmed circles around their prospective adopters. Bruce had to take that cat, they said.

“Your mom did say cats love you,” Tony agreed and Bruce sighed. Two cats it was.