"What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Bruce had closed the door behind him quickly, hoping that Tony wouldn't understand how uneasy he was, and dove under the covers, curling up on his side, as usual.

He rolled over on his back, staring at the ceiling with an unfocused gaze, running over in his mind what had just happened: clumsiness which had quickly been replaced by a desire for affection, the way Tony smelled (cold and rich, just like him), his hot breath, the roughness of his imperfect goatee against Bruce's shoulder and the overpowering desire to get closer...

"Stop!", he whispered to himself harshly, stopping the flow of his thoughts.

"I haven't had sex in eons. I'm not used to jerking off. That's all it is," he told himself decisively. "I should just spank the monkey without thinking too hard about it and it'll all be over."

He slid his hand down into his shorts, starting to fantasize and touching himself without any real desire, as if he had to carry out a boring task. He realized he hadn't seen a naked woman aside from Natasha for some time. And now, after he had walked in on her one day in the bathroom waxing her legs, he couldn't find her attractive, even though he knew that was a normal thing.

He closed his eyes, slowly creating an ideal woman – sexy and provocative, picturing the woman sitting on his desk, with her legs spread, sitting among the sheets of paper and sophisticated equipment that he owned: he tried desperately to give her a face but was unsuccessful.

"Relax," he told himself, starting to feel his blood flow to his groin. "I can do without a blow job."

He began moving his hand again, with innate mastery, giving his fantasies free rein and imagining himself wearing only a shirt, which the anonymous, faceless woman gracefully slid off of him, starting to alternate scratches and touches, light slaps and hot kisses... The scent of coffee wafted over Bruce who, caught in the heat of desire didn't even notice it. He could almost touch what his mind was conjuring up, feel against him the metal of the reactor implanted in Stark's chest...

"Stark?" Bruce found himself in his bedroom, with his cock hard in his hand, his expression shocked, amazed, scandalized. He looked around, worrying that he had been caught, but the door was closed tight. Though he was still shocked, he felt a strong wave of relief wash over him. The shock made the blood quickly leave his groin, his cock softening and losing interest.

I almost miss the Other Guy... he found himself thinking, once again turning on his side and preparing for another sleepless night.

The atmosphere was broken by the door to his room sliding open.

"Banner?"

Shit" he thought, recognizing Tony's voice and remaining mute while shutting his eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep and hoping that Tony wouldn't try to force him to wake up.

"Banner, you sleeping?"

You idiot, if I'm not answering, maybe I can't hear you because I'm sleeping. What do you think?

"Fuck," he heard Tony swear, as if it were a problem that Bruce was sleeping.

This made the doctor curious, but he stayed quiet.

We'll talk tomorrow. Come on, he forcefully directed his thoughts. Go away. Go away. Damn, why can't I control other people's minds?

Contrary to his wishes, Tony's steps came closer: he felt Tony lean against the bed, jump back up as if he had touched a hot flame and then carefully sit down once again, at Bruce's back.

"Ok," as much as he was trying to keep his voice down, it seemed he was incapable of whispering. "I guess this means I'll have a chat with the wall, because if I don't let it all out tonight, I won't be able to say it at all."

Tony went silent, taking a deep breath though he was panting. In that moment of silence, Bruce clearly heard a violin cord as Jarvis began to play music in the background.

Tony decided to talk.

"Mental masturbation is much worse that the physical, Bruce," he declared, strangely calling Bruce by name. "Sure, it may be embarrassing, but what's the big deal really? In those cases, at the most you figure out what kind of porn you like, what type of girl you like, or whether you have some kind of crazy fetish, nothing more. But when you screw yourself over with your own thoughts, and you're sitting there worrying, and somebody asks you what's wrong and other stupid stuff..."

Bruce's guts clenched anxiously and his thoughts raced, attempting to understand what the other man was trying to say.

"Pepper and I broke up," Tony vomited out the words.

Believe it or not, that I actually figured out, Bruce thought nervously.

"I first thought it would just be a break. Too much work, too much stress, too many distractions. But as time went on I realized that it's not a temporary thing, even though I really feel like a jerk. She's beautiful, intelligent, she can handle me. She's practically the perfect woman... But she's a woman," he stated bitterly.

Bruce began to feel angry. So?

Tony suddenly sucked in a breath, as if he was trying to concentrate, and Bruce clearly heard the words of the song playing, sung by a warm, fascinating male voice.

"I'm bearing a cross..."

"That's some fucking timing," Tony couldn't help saying, clearly nervous, referring to the song, while Bruce seemed to have an epiphany.

He's gay. Bruce finally understood. "He's gay and doesn't want to admit it because it would mess up his macho image, but he can't deal with it alone and he has to tell somebody. He and Steve don't have a good relationship. He's not close to Clint. As a woman, Natasha might have difficulty understanding him and Thor sometimes acts like an idiot. I'm the closest thing to a brother he has..." Another voice, sharp and pained, cut through the air.

"Bittersweet, I want you... and I need you."

"But you don't," Tony said. Bruce opened his eyes, shocked.

What the fuck did you just say?!

"Jarvis!" Tony shouted, ignoring Bruce's hypothetical slumber. "Lower the volume of this crap, please." The music lowered and Bruce felt Tony lean over him, probably to check if he had woken Bruce up. Bruce made sure to close his eyes and keep his expression neutral, despite the fact that his guts were churning.

I misunderstood, Bruce told himself to calm himself down. The music was loud, he was talking too fast and I misunderstood.

Tony let out an anxious huff.

"Holy shit... I can't even talk to the wall..."

He took a deep breath.

"For a while now, I realized that when you're around, I feel...different...," Tony explained, his voice soft. "I realized one day, while you were working and not paying attention to anything but the computer and your millions of notes written on papers all over your desk. I was staring at you. I felt like... a voice... was telling me to walk up behind you and rub your shoulders."

Bruce forced himself to remain immobile.

"At first I figures that I was some kind of wish that I had a brother," Tony went on. "You know how it is. I didn't have a really normal family. Who knows what kind of things happen in your head when you grow up. But there was nothing brotherly in how I wanted you. Incestuous maybe."

He let out a mirthless laugh.

"So I started thinking. At night, obviously, because I was busy during the day. I understood a lot of things about my life, the way I dealt with certain issues, and sometimes, with women, some of my opinions. Things like that. One night I found the courage to talk to Virginia about it."

It took Bruce a few seconds to realize he was talking about Pepper.

"I told her everything. What recently happened to me, my thoughts, my feelings. She was a great confidante, I have to admit. She accepted the situation. She was stoic, even though it was clear that it made her feel awful. The problem was telling you. I hoped I could talk to you tonight, but I saw you were so nervous that...I was afraid."

Bruce's stomach cramped and he felt nauseous. If, on one hand, everything that had happened earlier suddenly made sense and he felt somewhat relieved, he had no idea how to handle the situation.

"I can't say I love you, not that," Tony admitted. "But I like you, a lot. You're smart. You're hot; you're charismatic."

Charismatic? Me?

Moved by that confession which, Bruce realized, he deeply desired, he realized he was crying tears of joy. However, his guts wouldn't stop clenching, to the point that he let out a slight moan.

"Earlier, when you woke up so...defenceless..." Tony's voice seemed about to break. "I really wanted to make you feel better. All those damn times that rage takes you over and everything that fucking happens, then you end up naked and scared to death I go crazy. I'm dying to tell you that you're strong. You don't have to be afraid of the Other Guy. And you're a precious resource to all of us ..." Tony let out a kind of laugh.

"And I can't deny that when you go back to being Bruce Banner after those times, and you're hot and sweaty, you get my juices flowing". Tony stopped, while Bruce's mind quickly ran away with him, unable to focus on a specific thought.

Tony Stark is gay. Tony Stark is gay and wants me. And I want him.

It all seemed so simple to say, a normal relationship between two people and nothing more. But Bruce needed time, time that Tony had already had to process his own feelings. He had nothing against homosexuality; he thought it was something normal, like having blond hair instead of brown. But finding that he was suddenly attracted to a man was another thing entirely.

The music, which up to that point he could hardly hear, rose, or maybe just seemed to rise, in volume: a soft guitar chord broke the silence, and Bruce recognized it as the start of a Pink Floyd song.

"You still sleeping?"

Bruce didn't answer.

"You're worse than a hibernating bear!" he laughed. "At this point, sorry, I'm gonna take advantage."

Tony got up. There was a rustle of fabric, a soft metallic click and, when he once again got on the bed, his weight was distributed differently.

He's lying down. Bruce felt Tony's coffee-scented breath getting closer, while a hand unexpectedly landed gently on his hair and Roger Waters sang sweetly in the background.

At the contact with Tony's hand, Bruce's guts relaxed, as if by magic, and he was suddenly smiling, tremors of pleasant expectation running through his body.

For the first time in what seemed like years, he decided to let his instincts guide him.

With a clear head, Bruce turned towards Tony, a lazy gesture, snaking his arm around Tony's waist and putting his head on Tony's chest, feeling the metal of the arc reactor under his cheek, in contrast with the softness of Tony's skin.

"Open your heart... I'm coming home," he whispered, going along with the song.

"Bruce?" Tony seemed uncertain, almost frightened.

"Shut up," Bruce stopped him. His eyes finally closed softly, relaxed, not shut tightly. "Shut up and stay here."

"You..."

"Shhhh. We'll worry about mental masturbation tomorrow. Sleep now, we both need it." Tony seemed about to say something, but stayed quiet, hugging Bruce back. A few minutes passed before Bruce realized he was falling into a world of soft pillows, hot metal and Pink Floyd singing in the background.

"Together we stand, divided we fall."

There were no nightmares that night