#chubby!bruce

**

Although the first test week was adequate, Bruce didn't get the results he'd wanted.

"Less than a kilogram? That's it?"

"Well, we're fightin' nature, Big Guy. I can adjust the formulas of the current weight gain drinks and powders but you still need to consume it fast enough to override your body's heightened abilities."

"It's still not...bad," Steve murmured. "It's some gain, right?" But even he looked a little disappointed.

"I know, I know." Bruce ran a hand through his curls and they toppled over his scalp like loose springs. "There has to be a faster way, though."

Steve gestured at the data pulled from Jarvis. "Is there anything else we could do? I mean, it doesn't look appetizing but you could try one of those heavy duty Vitamix blenders and liquefy your solid foods."

Bruce made a face. "I'd rather not vomit, thanks." He grimaced at his boyfriends. "The problem is trying to eat beyond my point of feeling stuffed. We have to increase my caloric intake but the gains don't last when I'm not physically able to eat enough or fast enough."

Tony rocked on his heels, leveling his steeliest gaze in Bruce's direction. "You know my thoughts, Banner."

Bruce held up a stern hand. "No. I refuse. I told you before it's not safe."

Steve frowned. "What's not safe?"

Bruce briefly glanced at Tony who made a curt go ahead, tell him gesture. "It's...possibly faster."

"Guaranteed faster."

"Allegedly faster," Bruce said a little louder, in case Tony didn't hear him the first time. "I'm not risking massive property damage just to gain a pound or two."

"We could use the Green Room in the basement."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Not you too, Steve."

"Well maybe I want in on the secrets. The two of you can't keep discussing options without me, because I'm as much a part of our family as you two are."

Bruce and Tony traded uncomfortable glances. "Sorry," Bruce muttered.

"Agreed. We should've included you in the science stuff." Tony made a face at Bruce. "We might as well tell him, mind if I--?"

Bruce sighed testily. "Be my guest. You were going to, anyway."

"Right," Tony murmured, and for penance from pushing his portly bf a little too much he gave Bruce a small peck on his forehead. "It's one option that yields good results: fasting."

"Fasting?" A scowl marred Steve's features. "Isn't that the opposite of what we're trying to do?"

"Yes and no. If we do it right it'll make Bruce hungrier and he'll overeat, even beyond the levels he's eating now. Every five days we can switch up his eating routine."

"And beyond that," Bruce said, sheepishly glancing down. "I've been...working on a few experimental compounds to quicken the results. But I haven't tested my hypothesis and I'm a little unsure of the outcome.

"But fasting..." Bruce paused and sighed. He ran a chubby hand through his curls and nibbled his bottom lip. "Fasting is problematic because it potentially riles the Other Guy. I hope the compound I'm developing works because I'm hesitant to try anything that threatens my calm."

Tony rolled his eyes. "We've got this, hon'. You know we do. We have the Hulk pod in the basement, and you could even stay down there while you get hungry. Not that you'd want to. And Steve and I'll get your favorite take out, after we're done. Double portions of everything."

Bruce's eyes narrowed, and Tony swore he saw a little green. "We've never tested the containment pod. I've never had a need to, and I've never felt in danger since I've been here. I'd rather not unless there are no other options."

"Suit yourself," Tony said, shrugging. "Five years is an awfully long wait for a goal weight, though."

Bruce made another face. "Too long."

"So go for broke," Steve sighed.

"Exactly,” Tony said. “What harm could it do?"

Bruce locked eyes with Tony. "You don't want the answer to that question."

Having heard enough, Steve sauntered over to his favorite scientists. He slung an arm over both their shoulders (though his reach strained over Bruce’s wide back), and gave both a peck on the cheek. "I think the answer is staring all of us in the face," he told them, and both Tony and Bruce gave him the side-eye.

"It is?"

"You know something we don't?” Tony snarked. “Impossible."

Steve chuckled softly. "Bruce, I know It's not something you really like doing, but the Hulk is part of you. And you eat more after a Hulk-out, don't you?"

Bruce folded his arms and planted his feet, as unyielding as a marble statue of himself. "But I also use up a lot of calories. It's a zero-sum game."

Steve nudged Bruce with his chin and immediately Bruce settled into his warm arms. "Muffin. I think both you and Tony will come up with a plan that'll work, but I don't want either of you over-stressing." His gaze flickered to Tony, who finally caved, lips breaking into a small smile. "We'll figure it out. I'm thinkin' maybe we try a little of everything, yeah? Can we start out slowly, just to see what'll happen? We have time. The answer doesn't have to come today."

"Hmm," Bruce sighed. "I guess so."

"Yeah, okay," Tony grumbled. "I guess he's right."

"You're welcome." He kissed Bruce's temple and held out his other hand for Tony to take it. "Tonight, let's enjoy each other's company. A little food, and fun."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Tony said, quickly shutting down their work station.

                                                         * *

**

"Is everything set?"

"For the fiftieth time, Banner--!"

"Stop." Steve felt Tony's shoulder's tense; he was practically vibrating. While Bruce thought Tony was acting cocky, Steve knew Tony's worry was equally high - he just had a weird way of showing it. "We're ready. D'you think you're relaxed enough to sleep?"

"I kinda have to be, don't I?" The nervous chuckle Bruce gave was less than reassuring. "I mean, unless he can take over when I'm wide awake, without me knowing."

Bruce was half-kidding and they could hear his gallows humor loud and clear. Ultimately losing himself to Hulk scared Bruce most, whether or not he voiced it. "We've got this, Muffin," Steve said, and he wrapped his arms as far as they could go around Bruce's midsection. "I'll take point tonight, Tony tomorrow night."

Bruce pointed to Tony. "You're sleeping in your nanosuit, right?"

Tony tapped his chest, and the lights woven into his shirt fabric glowed. "Not as comfy as I'd like, but I'm on backup. Trust us, Pooh. We got this."

"And I'm all set," Steve said, tugging his earlobe. "Jarvis has me connected. I won't miss anything."

"Okay...okay."

Bruce was anything but okay, though, so Steve held out his hands. "C'mon, let's try it," he said, waiting for Bruce to take his hands. He gently guided them back to their bed, crawled on top of the sheets, and motioned between his legs. "Sit."

Bruce's cheeks pinked up, but he swallowed and lumbered across the sheets to settle between Steve's legs. "Now lay back."

"Steve--"

"Do it."

Bruce huffed, but followed Captain America's command. Steve hid his smile; he'd unearthed small ways that calmed his boys, and as much as Bruce fought against the truth he loved Steve cuddling and nurturing him. He initially pretend not to, but Steve felt how quickly tension left Bruce's body when he took control and treated Bruce special. Bruce only accepted the whole, "I'm in charge, I can handle you" treatment from Steve.

And boy, did he take to it.

Steve widened his stance a little more, feeling his body respond as Bruce nestled in. Over the past few weeks he'd noticed Bruce's broadening backside, even if Bruce didn't. "That's it," Steve whispered. Bruce let out a small sigh as Steve cocooned him as much as he could. His arms couldn't reach around like they used to, but they could cuddle.

"Can I be jealous? I think I've got room to be jealous."

Steve chuckled and patted the bed’s edge. "There's plenty of room for both of you on this bed, Tony."

"Mm," Bruce let out a lengthy sigh. Steve could feel Bruce's body sink into his as they all flirted with sleep. He lightly fingered Bruce's curls, easing him further in. "Not for long."

Steve snorted and grabbed a pillow so Tony could lean against his left side. "Not for long," he agreed. "We'll make you into a marshmallow man yet."

"Now that I'd like to see," Tony said, yawning.

Me too, Steve thought, but he didn't voice it.

**

Captain Rogers.

Steve stirred. What--?

Steve. Captain Rogers.

"Uh?" He blinked. What time was it?

Sorry to disturb you, but you did ask me to alert you.

Steve tapped his ear as he became fully conscious. "Jarvis?"

Yes, Captain Rogers. I'm speaking from your earpiece. You asked me to alert you when Doctor Banner woke - he is currently on the move, and headed for the nearest kitchen.

"Oh, right. On my way."

Steve frowned; he should've felt Hulk’s movements, at the very least. Glancing at the other side of the bed Tony was snoring up a storm. Hulk hadn't disturbed Tony either, apparently.

"Jarvis?" He whispered. "Is Bruce...Bruce right now, or Hulk?"

The AI paused.

Apologies, sir. It's impossible to determine at this time.

Great. What the hell did that mean?

"Okay..." Steve made a face and put on his sweats before heading towards the north kitchen. Guess he'd figure it out when he got there. If it was bad he'd tell Jarvis to alert Tony, but he honestly had no clue what to expect.

In hindsight, they really should've asked Hulk more questions when he showed up.

**

As Steve skittered around the kitchen corner, the only thing he noticed was the wide-open fridge door. He'd come from the opposite side expecting to see Hulk towering over the kitchen island, but he didn't see Hulk. He heard intense munching from inside the refrigerator instead.

"Bruce?" He whispered.

"Grrah... No Banner! Hulk!"

What on earth...?

Steve padded over cautiously and peered over the fridge door. It certainly looked like Bruce, crouched and hunched inside the icebox. But there was something...animalistic about Bruce’s demeanor. Large crumbs and half-eaten empty dishes surrounded him while a mountain of food detritus stained the front of his shirt. He hunkered over a casserole dish with a turkey leg, and used said turkey leg to scoop up whatever existed in the casserole dish.

"Is Hulk!" He repeated loudly, spewing food in every direction. He glared at Steve from half-slit eyes and dug his turkey leg into the dish, taking another huge bite. Food bits fell off the turkey and down his robe.

Steve's mouth flew open. He couldn't help but stare a few beats before speaking. "Uh, wow. Now I see it." Hulk was in charge, but he'd kept Bruce small.

Incredible, Steve thought.

"Hmm!" Hulk-Bruce grunted and slammed the turkey leg into his chest as if asserting dominance. "Banner isn't Hulk. Hulk is Hulk. Hulk will make Banner like Hulk!"

Steve couldn't help the grin that suddenly teased the corners of his lips. "You're doing a great job, Hulk," he told him, and Hulk nodded proudly before tearing into the meat.

"Banner's still too puny," Hulk laughed. His voice was a hybrid between Bruce and Hulk's, low and rough with Bruce's timbre. "Hulk can make Banner all chubby, like Banner wants. But Hulk wants real food."

Steve scratched his chin, trying to decipher what Hulk meant. "Do you mean you like different things?"

Hulk grunted and used the turkey leg as a pointer. "Like that,” he growled, pointing to a casserole. “And that. Those are good. Not this." He pointed to a cake.

"Hmm." Steve pursed his lips, musing over the new information. It looked like Hulk liked meat and fried foods, but Bruce typically went for sweets. "Got it. We can have it ready tomorrow, Br--er, Hulk. Just tell us what you want."

"Mm. Good," Hulk muttered. He used the back of his arm to wipe away the food covering his chin and lips. "More of that," he said, pointing to cold fried chicken. "More grease."

"Anything else?" Steve started taking notes in his head. "You can have anything you want."

Hulk perked up, eyes widening. "Anything?"

Within reason, Steve thought, but he wasn't going to deny Hulk if he kept eating like this. "Sure," Steve said. "Name it."

**

"Oh my God." Bruce held his head in his hands as he reviewed the footage early next morning. "Steve, why the hell did you tell him--"

"C’mon, it's not that bad, Pooh Bear."

Bruce's eyebrow quirked as he glared at Tony.

"You're kidding, right?"

Tony shrugged. "It's not impossible."

Steve wrinkled his nose. "I can't understand how he knew."

"He sees everything I do, but he doesn't understand it. That's the problem." Bruce belched and rubbed his tummy. The stuffing from Hulk's night raid hurt, but he hoped to be hungry for lunch later. "There’s no way we can get all that crap. Even if we did, who the fuck could cook it?"

Tony smirked. "Leave it to me. I've got four-star chefs in my back pocket. If anyone knows, they will."

"He'd never know," Bruce muttered, even as Hulk roared in his head. "You could cook anything. He'd eat it."

Tony held up a hand. "Nothin' doin'. My Green Bean wants what he wants, and I'll get it for him hell or high water."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Bruce said, sighing miserably.

Christ. He felt ill.

**

Steve turned off the Hulk footage after viewing it with Tony for the third time. They both agreed it was practically pornographic, but they needed to see it again. For research.

Yep. Research.

"So? Thoughts?"

Tony shrugged, bumping Steve's shoulder. Feeling frisky Tony ran his stocking foot up Steve's leg and Steve had a feeling the three of them would enjoy themselves later.

"It's not as dire as Bruce makes it and honestly, I bet he's secretly pleased. Hulk totally behaved himself, totally stuffed our boy with some high dollar menu items. I have a feeling we'll appreciate the results in a pretty short time."

Steve grinned as his face got hot. "You should've been there, Tony. Hulk's an eating dynamo, nothin’ stopping him. He got filthy, though. Made him take a shower before we went back to bed."

"Bet Hulkie loved that," Tony laughed. "Can't imagine him wanting to take a shower, by any stretch."

"Nah. It was okay. He liked me scrubbing him down. In fact, I think...well."

Tony perked up and maneuvered his body to catch Steve's eye. "What?"

Steve scratched his neck and sheepishly looked away. "I think Hulk enjoys sharing Bruce's body, like last night. It gives him another perspective he doesn't normally have. I got the feeling he wants to take over Bruce’s body more often."

"Hm." Tony's expression sobered. "Don't let Bruce hear you say that. He'll go apeshit."

"I know. He's already concerned about their boundaries and this sharing thing is stressful for Bruce. But is it bad? I mean, Hulk would still be 'out' more or less. But there wouldn't be any property damage. Bruce wouldn't have to worry about Hulk making a mess."

"But he's also blind to Hulk’s actions," Tony countered. "And there's no guarantee Hulk wouldn't take over their body and swell it green if he got mad enough." Tony tsked between his teeth. "I dunno, Steve. I'd keep that between you and me. If Bruce decides he wants more he'll tell us, but I'm kinda iffy on that front."

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "Maybe you're right."

"I am," Tony said. He clasped Steve's arm. "Don't fall into the trap. Hulk is a good bro but Bruce is right; you've gotta watch him. He'll take whatever you give him, and weasel for more."

"Like what he wants for dinner," Steve moaned.

Tony laughed. "Yeah. Like that. I got it set up, though. The caterers'll have it ready by 11 tonight. Just in time for our Green Bean to dig in."

"Can't believe you found someone to cook that...stuff," Steve mumbled. He ran a hand down his face. "You got it so damn fast."

Bruce’s gut rumbled and groaned, echoing his greedy, lustful appetite.  Giving his stomach a small placating pat, Bruce rocked, scooted and shifted his demanding body off the mattress. When Tony softly grunted and Steve's breathing hitched Bruce froze, wondering if he'd woken them. But no. He sighed softly as they returned to their regular sleeping patterns after a beat. Besides, if they did wake for whatever reason they'd know where he'd be and they could join him in the kitchen.

He grabbed his robe (a robe that barely fit, the same robe Tony and Steve swaddled on cold nights) and slowly shuffled to the closest kitchen. He'd be out of breath halfway, but no matter; he had a feeling Tony would cobble together a kitchenette off their bedroom, once walking became too bothersome. 

Humming, Bruce grabbed fried chicken, gravy, mashed potato leftovers and the corn casserole from the fridge and loaded his plate. For good measure he also grabbed ice cream, chocolate cake, and a spoon, nibbling on the sweets while the dinner foods warmed in the microwave. His mind wandered as he waited. A nightly feeding routine had merit. Doing would exhaust him, but he’d  consider it. He could sleep during the day. Or catnap.

Alternately, he could modify a sumo wrestler’s diet to fit his needs, but he had a sneaking suspicion he was already consuming more calories than the average sumo, just to maintain his weight.

Steve was right. The answer was in front of them, somewhere.  So maybe, if he combined Tony and Steve's ideas with his own, and reexamined the Hulk threshold, maybe adding a nightly feeding schedule to boot...

Hmm. It might work.

"Muffin?"

Bruce smiled at Steve's sleepy grin and popped another spoonful of chocolate cake and ice cream in his mouth. "Just got a little peckish."

"So I see." Steve's sleepy grin morphed into something diabolical. "Sit," he said, gesturing at a bar stool at the kitchen island. "You shouldn't waste extra energy by preparing your own meals." Bruce's stool was a little more squat than the others and heavily reinforced. Tony threatened to make the other stools the same for symmetry's sake but he'd never gotten around to it. Bruce honestly didn't mind. He liked having his "own" kitchen seat.

He snorted at Steve's quip and calmly watched the man grab a bowl from the cabinet; Steve wouldn't let him off the hook until he sat and obeyed him. 

"So, Bruce. What's got you up at this hour, besides food?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"More than." He grabbed the hot food from the microwave as Bruce piled ice cream into a bowl and added his toppings - the "good" ice cream toppings, according to Tony.

Steve put the ice cream back in the freezer and gestured to Bruce's food. "Eat up. And tell me what's bothering you."

Bruce hummed appreciatively. He took time to answer, though. He wolfed down half his food before gently clearing his throat. "The pros and cons, I suppose," he murmured.

"Of what Tony's proposing?"

Nodding, Bruce took a few big bites from the chicken before loading up his spoon with the corn dish. "That, and more. I have some ideas, and I think I have something that might work."

"Oh?"

Bruce smirked and shoveled the corn casserole into his mouth. "Mmf," he said, mouth half full. "It's half of what's bugging me."

Steve watched him finish his chicken and casserole before silently piling more mashed potatoes to his plate. "Thanks."

Steve went to the fridge and dumped shredded cheese and butter pats to the rest of Bruce's heated mashed potatoes. "What's the other half, then?"

Bruce twirled his fork through the cheese and fluffed it together, and as he ate  small contented noises rose from his throat. "Ooh, yeah. Perfect," he snuffled before scarfing it. "Mm. 'Kay. So...it's cosmetic."

"Cosmetic?"

"Yeah." Bruce’s fork scraped across his empty plate and he mechanically dug into the cake and ice cream, missing Steve slyly replenishing his dessert whenever Bruce looked close enough to finishing. "It took me this long to appear 'human' to people; to be normal. Sure, I'm pretty hefty, but I'm still functionally normal." He belched behind a curved fist before returning to his plate. He tucked into his next helping of cake and spoke with his mouth full. "I get a few odd stares now, but they're the stares guys my size normally get. I kinda get a kick out of that, to be honest."

Steve chuckled right along with him and grabbed chocolate sauce from the fridge. "So? What's the real issue?"

"The real issue," Bruce sighed, loading up his fork. "Is the monster I see myself bec...oh, that is amazing." He finally realized Steve heated up the chocolate sauce, then poured it over his cake and ice cream. His double chin quivered as he shoved giant bites in his mouth, trying to get in every last crumb of deliciousness.

"Don't choke yourself," Steve teased. But his small smile quickly faded. "You're not a monster. You know that."

Bruce shrugged, but he didn't say anything else until his fork clattered across the empty dessert plate. "Not consciously, no. But I've gotta ask myself, am I coming to terms with it? Is it so bad to be one, really? To own it? I'm not a hundred percent human - and neither are you," he amended, when Steve tried interrupting. "Or half of the Avengers, if we really think about it. Even Tony's genius puts him out of the human category, into something more like super...hm. Super humanity."

"Super human?"

"No. That phrase is trite and beyond overdone. Super humanity has more heart, and creates a space for people like us, as well as others."  He pat his full stomach, feeling more at ease, momentarily mesmerized at how his huge belly jiggled with each pat. "I've begun owning the word 'fat,'" he mumbled, squeezing his rolls beneath his strained pajama top. "Maybe I can reclaim the word 'monster,' too."   

"I'm sure you can, if anyone can do it," Steve said. He opened the freezer back up and took out the ice cream, and grabbed a fresh spoon. "But you're still my Muffin regardless. So let me make sure you're good and full before you wake up again, because you’re hungry."

Bruce smiled softly and opened his mouth as Steve spoon fed him the rest of the ice cream.

***

Still, that night got Bruce thinking; the key wasn't one individualized goal. Maybe, like a monster, he could go all out. Let the journey take flight on its own. He could hang on for the ride and chart its progress.

Dangerous thinking, Banner, he cautioned. The last time he metaphorically let it ride, he had a Hulk for his trouble. But maybe having three consciences would bring out better circumstances. Among the three of them he had a brain, a heart, and a moral compass...which was a darn sight better than just a brain.

"Earth to Bruce. Again."

"Hm?" Bruce snapped up from the book he wasn't reading. His head was nestled in Tony's lap, while Tony played with his curls. Steve had risen from the other end of the couch to gather snacks from the kitchen, so their dog occupied the warm divot Steve's butt left behind.

"You were saying?"

"I said," Tony murmured, kissing Bruce's forehead. "That I noticed you and Spangles made a small night of it. Without me."

"I wouldn't go that far," Bruce said honestly. "I got hungry and Steve and I talked over a few things."

"Oh, really?" Bruce could feel Tony's jealous streak rearing up. He put his book down, and took Tony's hand.

"Nothing major, promise. I told him I wanted to reclaim the word 'monster.' To use it, but in my own way."

"You're not--"

"No, wait. Hear me out." He'd already made peace with the word after his discussion with Steve, but he should've told Tony sooner. It was wrong of him not to. "I'm going to become someone 'otherworldly.' Monstrously huge’, as it were. But I want the opportunity to put my humanity on equal footing with the Hulk. It sounds...weird, but I don't know how else to describe it." He sighed, suddenly wanting another plate of cookies. "I guess I'm making peace with the Other Guy by becoming more like him, in human form. I'm almost excited at the prospect, to be honest. Maybe it'll help us understand one another more."

"Huh," Tony murmured after a long beat. A crooked smile passed on his lips. "I never thought about it that way."

"So...it's not such a crazy idea?" Bruce grunted. Some of his apprehension drained away with Tony’s approval. "There's merit to it, right?"

"Absolutely." Tony squeezed his shoulder. "But now that we're all on the same page, it's time to kick this into full gear. It's been a while since you used yourself as a live test subject - and I know your concerns," Tony interrupted, seeing the deepening crease across Bruce's brow. "But we've got this, babe. Let's pour through your notes and come up with some cool ideas."

                                                              * *

Bruce frowned and gentled his hands in Tony’s hair. If he got too rough Tony’d wake and he didn’t want that. “That’s when I made some tough decisions,” he murmured. “Looking back, I honestly don’t think I wanted to. But I changed anyway. For her.”

Confessing--well half-confessing, since he hoped his words were vague enough so no one would understand him--helped loosen the gut-knot he’d ignored for years.

Go figure.

Bruce ran a hand beneath his glasses, sighing. He really should turn in. The clock on the TV read four-something-am and yeah, it was technically Saturday, but still--

“Wait, what?”

Nuts. Bruce swallowed. “Um...you’re dreaming. Go back to sleep, Tony.”

“Nuh, uh, no. We’re not playing that card.” Tony yawned and rolled up like a cat, propping his elbow behind the couch so he could stare Bruce eye to bloodshot eye. Bruce smiled a little and pulled back one of Tony’s stray hairs to de-emphasize his lover’s bedhead.

“There’s no card. We need get some decent sleep because we stay up too late on weekends as it is. So next time, I say we stick to double features when teaching Steve twentieth century culture. And we start earlier in the day.”

“The eighties rule, and those movies’re Lays potato chips - try to watch just one, I dare you.” Bruce smirked, conceding Tony’s point. “But that’s neither here nor there, big guy. And you’re forgetting that One, I’m a light sleeper. And Two, a genius.”

“A genius at staying up way too late.”

“And a genius at peering through other geniuses smokescreens.”

“Touche.”

“Hey, hey,” Steve grumbled. Bruce shut his eyes, internally groaning. He could verbally spar with Tony to get him off the scent, but not him and Steve.

Steve sniffed and hid a yawn in a curved fist. “What time is it?”

“Between astronomical and civil dawn.”

Steve blinked. “What--?”

“4:30 a.m-ish,” Tony translated. He gave Bruce a hard stare. “And our boy Brucie is playing dumb while attempting to evade my questions.”

Steve looked adorably rumpled and rather childlike the seconds before fully wakening, but his clueless innocence didn’t last long. Bruce sank lower into the couch as concern and anger clouded Steve’s expression.

“Why?”

“I’m thinkin’ it had something to do with the last movie, but he’s not budging.”

“The movie with that really cute guy, with the cute name?”

Tony grinned. “Yeah.”

“C’mon, that had to be a stage name.”

“What, John Candy? Nope. Real name.”

“Son of a gun.”

Bruce hoped they’d continue, or at least leave him alone enough so they’d ignore him. “I’m just tired,” he deflected, yawning for emphasis. “We should table this for another time - really, it’s nothing.”

“No we’re gonna have it out now, because you’re too good at diverting us from the truth.” Bruce rolled his eyes. “Stop it. I know your game, Banner. You might as well ‘fess up.”

Worse, Steve kneaded Bruce’s side like a giant soothing cat, breaking concentration and resolve. “C’mon, muffin,” Steve sang, softly kissing Bruce’s jawline. “No judgments here.”

Bruce exchanged gazes with both of the men. “All right, all right. Fine...but don’t make a giant deal out of this, okay?”

“Promise,” Tony said, and Bruce glared daggers. “I said I wouldn’t! Sheesh.”

Bruce ignored his retort. “Steve...?”

“I’ll try,” Steve mumbled.

Bruce thinned his lips and ran his hands through his hair, hardening his expression. “This is tough for me, okay? So don’t...blow this out of proportion.”

“We won’t, we won’t,” Tony growled. He made the universal, “hurry up” gesture with his hand. “Just spit it out.”

Bruce glowered at his partners once before staring at his hands. “O...kay. Okay. For a year or two in college,” he breathed, mentally preparing himself, “I was...pretty tubby.” His gaze shot up as Steve squeaked, but when he saw delight marching across his lover’s faces he held up a hand. “Ah, no! I told you, don’t make a big deal out of this!”

“Like...how tubby?” Tony asked, and his nefarious grin nearly split his skull. Steve nervously chewed his lips, not daring to make another sound. “Big as you are now? Or--”

Bruce shut his eyes. “I don’t even know why I bother,” he mumbled. Then, “Almost, maybe. Since one of my scholarships provided unlimited cafeteria meals as long as I maintained my honors GPA, I made up for my strict childhood by gobbling up every fried, sugary, and fatty treat I could get my hands on. I took full advantage of the all-you-can-eat buffets on campus including the ones open after midnight, and I was determined to get my money’s worth.”

He quietly fiddled with the hem on his shirt cuff, thankful that his partners kept quiet after his rebuff. “Maybe in one sense I was afraid. Afraid that someone had made a clerical error, and I’d lose my literal meal ticket. I justified the gorging, telling myself the free food was temporary. When you’re poor,” he said, suddenly solemn, “you don’t question ‘free’ or ‘extra.’ You take what you can, when you can.”

The room stilled, and Bruce suddenly heard the quiet background noises of their home; Lily lapping from her water dish, Jarvis’ temperature modulations, the exhales of surprise from his companions.

Time to change the atmosphere.

“In short,” Bruce said lightly, attempting to brighten the mood, “I gained the freshman two fifteen instead of the freshman fifteen.”

“And Betty wasn’t happy about it.”

Bruce shook his head. “I didn’t want to lose her, so I slimmed down until she was happy with me again. And anyway,” he muttered, shifting awkwardly on the couch, “thrift stores didn’t really carry my size and I couldn’t afford anything new. So that ended that.”

“But you liked it,” Steve murmured, his voice caught somewhere between awe and reverence. Bruce wasn’t sure if the awe came from him being 215+ pounds overweight in college or something else. “That’s what it was, wasn’t it? You liked being fat.”

Bruce shifted again. “I...um. Well, honestly? ‘Like’ isn’t a strong enough word. I...ah. I loved it.” He stared at his thick hands, feeling the embarrassment flood him, even now. “It felt great to be that chubby. I felt powerful. I felt in charge of my destiny and in control of my life. I...enjoyed how my mass shifted and jiggled with each footfall. How my steps caused furniture to quake and rattle. How people couldn’t ignore me.” He heard a small squeak, and immediately narrowed his eyes. “Steve. Don’t turn this into something weird.”

“I’m not, I--It’s just, it’s--um...it’s--”

“Nah, you broke him, Pooh Bear.” Tony grinned like a shark and tweaked Bruce’s double chin before sobering. “I could make some quip about the Hulk, but I won’t. And while I’m sorry Betty made you lose your weight class and you went back to fighting featherweight--”

“Lightweight.”

“--whatever weight, it was still wrong of her to force it on you. I like that you liked bein’ a hunky chunky and that you’re finally getting to enjoy it, twenty-plus years later.” He rubbed the back of his neck and got quiet. “Makes me feel less like a creeper, anyway.”

Both Steve and Bruce frowned but only Bruce responded. “A...what? Why?”

Tony paused as an uncharacteristic blush tinted his cheeks. “Hm. Well...I ran my own little tests on you, Banner. My mind loved watching your weight shoot up so I casually recommended some meal ideas to our cooks. I told them to tweak the recipes to keep you large, and in charge.”

Bruce gently reached for Tony’s hand and gave him a gentle peck on the lips. “Thanks for telling me but if I’d minded I would’ve said something.” Tony snorted, looking bashfully at a corner of the room. “Trust me, my taste buds are so heightened that I can tell if there’s extra cream or another additive. It makes my meals extra delicious so I enjoy overeating to savor every bite.”

“Ohhh...” An unconscious moan dropped from Steve’s lips. Tony rolled his eyes even as Bruce grabbed Steve’s hand.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bruce huffed. “But I love you anyway.” Bruce brought both their hands to his lips, kissing them. “I was destined to blow up. I just had to have the right company and the right motivation.”

“So...you’re not mad?”

Bruce looked pensive. “No, not really. Maybe disappointed you weren’t initially up front with me, but it’s okay. But let me know from here on out.

“In fact,” he sighed again, shifting his belly. He briefly pawed it, smirking at the bounce in his lap. “I think I’m nearing the point where I want to level out.”

“Aw, honest?”

“Steve, don’t be too upset.” A small smile pinked Bruce’s lips. “It was inevitable; you know I can’t keep gaining forever.” He gently rubbed Steve’s hand. “My human body is hitting some hard limits and it’s becoming difficult to move comfortably. I can’t walk too far - and running’s definitely out - but I’d like to be able to at walk around the house without a variety of ambulatory aids, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Steve pouted, causing Bruce to laugh. “I’ll miss measurement nights, though.”

Bruce winked at him. “I might not want to actively gain but I’m not planning on losing anything. So feel free to keep me in this range, plus or minus ten pounds.”

Steve’s expression brightened. “That I could do.”

“It’s a compromise, I’m sure. But I consider myself fluffy enough for your whims.”

“Stop,” Tony interrupted, laughing at their schmaltz. “No more, I’m done. I’m going to bed.”

“I think we should all turn in. It’s pretty late.”

“Early, you mean.” Steve offered his hand. Bruce took the help, rocking back and forth so the momentum could launch him from the couch’s deep divots. Steve smiled softly. His expression lingered on Bruce’s massive torso and on the button-down shirt with strained seams. “You need some new work shirts, Muffin.”

“Yeah. Maybe later today or tomorrow.”

“Shopping?” Tony yawned grandly and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s sides, though his fingers were more than a foot from connecting. Bruce chuckled as Tony slammed his head into his back, snuggling close. “Shopping’s my second favorite hobby.”

“And your first?”

“You blind, Banner? It’s you. And Steve, in a pinch.”

“In a pinch, huh? Thanks.”

“You two,” Bruce murmured. He motioned Steve over and stilled as both men wrapped around him in a cocoon of arm warmth. “My guys.”

“Always and forever,” Steve mumbled, and Bruce felt Tony nod against his back.

“Sleep now,” Tony said. “It’s chilly, and I need my Bruce-powered bed warmer.”

“You got it.”

They changed into comfortable clothes and tumbled into bed with Bruce between them. Bruce exhaled a loud, contented sigh as both Tony and Steve scooted into his body, cuddling snugly into his fat. He briefly reminiscent about his life, about the beginning of their time as a trio until now, and realized he was happier than he had any right to be. “Love you,” he whispered to them. He smiled after feeling a gentle whump while Lily found her sleep spot, completing their family.