thisavrou_log | [locked] Heart of glass

[locked] Heart of glass

Who: Trish Walker and Bruce Banner
When: After Trish wakes up from cryo
Where: Science department
What: Trish is really upset to wake up and finding that everything is on fire. Figuratively speaking.
Warnings: Will add if necessary

The rational part of Trish is very well aware of the fact that everything being a giant clusterfuck has absolutely nothing to do with her going into cryo, but there are a few other parts that somehow managed to make her feel guilty about the whole thing all the same, as if somehow she could have stopped it all if she had only been around.

And then there is of course just the giant gut punch that is knowing that Bruce was going to leave her. Sure, he might consider it a noble sacrifice but she really isn't in the mood for seeing it that way at the moment. Not after spending hours watching a cryo tank hoping for him to wake up. Not after being torn from sleep by a sudden need to check that he is still breathing because actually he might not be, she could be snuggled up to a corpse because he died and what if coming back is just some sort of cruel cosmic joke and the punch line is that one day the man she loves is going to be cold and dead with absolutely no explanation given.

Her chest is tight with panic and fear and misplaced guilt, and she hates all of it which means it all transforms into anger, and since that anger has to go somewhere she is currently absolutely furious with Bruce.

Talking to Tony was sort of keeping her grounded, but now she is alone with her thoughts and none of them are pretty.

Their room has been turned to glass, of all fucking things, which in all honesty feels like a too damn suitable metaphor for the state of her relationship. This is what you get for loving heroes. You would've thought that she'd learned that by now. Some lessons just can't seem to stick, apparently.

She spots a piece of paper on one of the bedside tables, and she picks it up, even though she is already quite certain that whatever is written there is not going to help her calm down before she goes to see Bruce.

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"Yeah, I know. And believe me, it was harder on me than it was on you."

Not criticizing or anything, simply making an observation. The mere fact that she was unconscious and unaware of her own situation meant she didn't have to confront or deal with it, whereas those awake and who cared for her had to suffer through every waking second.

Speaking of.

"Have you seen your sister yet?"

"Yeah, I called her as soon as I was done talking to Tony."

Because she was freaking the hell out and she needed her sister to help the world stop spinning so damn fast.

"Third on the reunion list? Wow. I'm feeling very unimportant right now."

It's more than obvious that he means that as a joke. It's actually good he wasn't the first nor second person she saw, or she'd have been either mad as hell at him, or would've panicked at the mere sight. Possibly a tragic combination of the two.

"Yeah, sorry to break it to you but I kind of barely care about you at all."

It was definitely for the best that she had some time to work off the worst of her emotional turmoil, and the warning about his condition certainly didn't hurt either. So yeah, things worked out for the best there.

He falls quiet for a short while, not really believing those words of course, but taking a moment to lift a hand up and touch her face, fingers tracing the outline of an expression he can't see. His thumb draws up the bridge of her nose, follows the arch of her eyebrow, moving along to the shell of her ear, tucking her hair behind it before the same thumb slides across her cheek again, towards her lips.

God, he misses the sight of her.

"Good thing I care enough for the both of us, then."

And she misses his eyes. The way just one look can tell her how he's feeling. Not that he isn't being plenty clear about that now too. When his thumb reaches her lips she parts them to gently let her teeth graze over the pad of it.

"That's a lot of caring to handle."

"I can handle a lot of things, as you well know."

And how much he cares for her is far from the worst or most difficult, rather the opposite.

He curls his thumb towards her mouth, pad dragging along the sharp edge of her teeth. His other hand moves up to the other side of her face, cupping it and tracing along her jaw, sliding down to her neck.

"I love touching you."

She lets out a long sigh, tension bleeding out of her as her focus narrows down to nothing apart from the familiar feeling of his hands on her skin.

This is what coming home feels like.

"Then don't stop."

"Then I should've locked the door."

Because he's thinking about more than just touching her face, as evidenced by both his words and the slow path his hand takes farther down her neck, thumb sliding underneath her shirt to trace along her collarbone.

"Oh, really?"

Always full of surprises, her Bruce. She wouldn't have expected him to get seductive right now, but with how their relationship tends to work she probably should have.

What? He can touch her just fine without getting excited. Well, too excited. Definitely nothing that would put his especially fragile heart at risk. Probably.

He pops the first button of her shirt open, hand sliding farther underneath the fabric.

"I don't know if you realize this but you were gone for almost a month. That's... a very long time, you know." And right after he just started having sex again, too. "So yes, really."

Probably? He shouldn't mention that to Trish if he wants to keep doing what he's doing.

"Alright then."

She pops a couple of buttons of his shirt too so that she can slide a hand under it and rest it over his heart.

"You'll be okay?"

Exactly, which is why he's keeping that sliver of doubt to himself. Mostly because he's really aching to touch her right now, even if it means being a little reckless.

"Yes, I'll— I'll be fine."

His fingers trace down the cleavage of her shirt, blindly reaching down to the next button, then the one after, slowly undoing each of them. The knuckles of his hands brush along her skin the farther down they move, and once her shirt's open all the way down, he maps around her waist with his palms.

"Do you think we'll ever be any good at keeping our hands off each other?"

She runs her fingers through his hair, because she knows how much he likes that, and leans in to give him another kiss.

He hums softly at the touch, head tipping back, smiling a little as he murmurs an answer just before she kisses him.

"God, I hope not."

His hands slide up and down her back in the meantime, feeling every curve and committing it to memory, not wanting to let a single patch of skin go untouched.

"You're pretty good at reunions."

She kisses her way along his jawline until she reaches his ear, tracing the shell with the tip of her tongue, gently biting the lobe.

"I like to—" a pause as he gasps softly, "—make you feel welcome."

Not that he couldn't in a myriad of other ways but, you know. This is much nicer, and he gets to touch her, so.

Hands sliding all the way up to her shoulder blades, they slowly move back down until his fingers are reaching for the hook of her bra, undoing it in a very slow and calm way, not yet bothering with taking either her shirt or her bra off of her just yet.

He gets to touch her, and also very efficiently takes her mind off of worrying about his glass parts. Naturally that is going to come back with a vengeance in not too long, but at least for a the moment things almost feel normal with his hands carefully, adoringly roaming her skin.

She finds his pulse and gently sucks the skin there, tongue caressing him again to savor his taste.

She doesn't remember the past few weeks, but it almost feels like her body knows how long it has been away from him.

"And I want you to feel how happy I am to be back."

Bruce almost has a moment where he stops and draws away, only so he can ask her if she really is happy to be back here. Stuck in some alternate universe, especially when she wakes up to everything going to shit, it's hardly the ideal setting for anyone.

But then he sees himself in her shoes. He remembers how truly happy he was when he woke up here after a whole year of being away, and... he gets it. He knows how she's feeling right now, because he felt that way too.

His hands round her sides, fingers tracing from her waist and up to her armpits. He slips his hands underneath her bra and draws over the arch of her breasts, palm brushing across her nipples, touch sliding down the space between, where he can feel the pulse of her heart against his hands.

Maybe it doesn't make too much sense to be happy about being stuck in an alternate reality where shit gets thrown at them all the damn time but... she has Jess, and she has him. How can she not feel happy to be back in the arms of the man she loves so much it hurts sometimes?

She lets out a shivering sigh when his hands slide over her breasts, her nipples hard under his brief touch. She leans a little against his hands, her hearbeat picking up speed.

She kisses his lips again, softly, pouring all of her love into it as if she could pass it over to him as it if were a physical thing.

His head tips back so their mouths fit together more properly, crystalline eyelids lowering even though he can't see anything. This almost makes him forget all about his current state, the way she kisses him and responds to his touches so familiar that it's a refuge he hides in, the comfort of a safe place that's not as physical as it is emotional.

His hands cup her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh lightly. She feels wonderful, and he only wishes he could see her bare figure right now, the way her body arches and begs for his touch. He's getting hard just imagining it, and he lets out a soft shivering moan as he breaks the kiss, thumbs rounding her nipples, catching one between it and his index finger and twisting just lightly.

She moans softly at the gentle pinch of his fingers around her nipple, and when she can feel his cock getting hard under her she shifts around so that she is sitting with her back to him, her ass pressing down more firmly against that hard ridge beneath her.

His hands leave her skin for a moment when he feels her move, and when finally her weight settles down on him again, and she presses herself down against the prominent bulge in his pants, he lets out a stiff moan, hands clinging to her waist while he rests his forehead against her back. "God! Trish..."

"Too much?"

She stills, waiting for his response without moving, trying to not make things worse. Or better, depending on how you look at it.

"No, that's... that's fine."

It takes a moment for him to ground himself, but he's pretty sure it'd be a whole lot more difficult to cope with her moving away now. So he keeps both his hands firm on her sides until he's sure she's not getting off of him, then one of them slides down her front, slowly undoing the button and zipper of her pants so it can dip past the fabric.

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