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The Monday morning busy-ness of STARK Industries was rather routine for most regular employees. There was a certain rhythm to the day: make the coffee, work, consume the coffee, repeat. And in that rhythm there was a deep sense of abiding routine. The cogs in the office are components of a well-oiled machine bent on that same routinization.
Sitting in one of the many waiting rooms, ready to roll with some basic consulting, Bruce Banner admires the movement of the supposed cogs; each in turn earning the moment's attentions as they go back and forth. He's been sitting here for awhile, not because he's requested to see anyone, but because people watching consistently gets the mental juices flowing.
The notebook in hand has been filled with scribbles — nearly nonsensical to passersby, but when he turns the page, the sketch he's working for is far more impressive to anyone taking a cursory glance. Banner, himself, feels at odds with his appearance. Wearing a brown sports jacket (complete with elbow patches), and his first tie in years, the oddity of dressing to be somewhere (rather than to explicitly be nondescript and blending) wears on him.
But despite the oddity of working in a building without explicit instruction thus far (probably because he hasn't requested it), he does seem to fit in. At least a little. Maybe.
*
Monday's were always insanity — mainly because much of the upper staff are still hung over from the weekend (Tony included) but the rest of the world doesn't stop for hang overs, so Pepper is generally alone catching every ball thrown in the are and juggling what she can. So, while Bruce was escorted in, given some sheets of a few projects, and set up by a lower level secretary, it's not until almost lunch that a rather harrowed looking Pepper Potts comes out of the executive office hallway and to the main waiting room.
She blinks, seeing him, her head tilting a bit to the side. She thought they'd set him up with an office? Maybe she was wrong. She turns on the ball of her impossibly high banana yellow heels that match the yellow mod dress with a white suit jacket she wears. The skirt is also impossibly short, making her legs look long and dangerous in their lithe curves. She gives the smallest huff as, while she's walking past into the waiting room, one of the mid level executives swats her on the ass: "Lookin' good, Potts." He calls over his shoulder before carrying on.
It takes just a second to recompose herself and then she's coming straight up to Banner's side. "Bruce, ah… Dr. Banner, I am so sorry, I thought they set you up with an office. I can take you there now. Is there anything you need?"
*
The mid level executive earns an eyebrow arch from Bruce, followed by a prompt shake of his head. His lips part to say something, but he chokes back the words. He's here to consult, not to interrupt the status quo.
"Bruce is fine," he offers with a small twinkle in his eye and a small smile. "And I was set up with an office." His throat clears. "I chose to work here, but if I'm in the way — " he glances over his shoulder. "I guess I should know where the office is. Because he didn't even bother going there, saying that this was adequate enough."
He stands from his seat. "Thank you, Miss Potts. You're very kind."
*
The redhead genuinely does not seem to understand. She looks back to him, then around to the often crazy waiting room, then back to him, "…You… like working in chaos? I mean, I guess to each their own, but yes, let me show you, at least." He's not down the executive hallway, of course, bu the engineer's hallway off to the side. Lots of smaller offices, little doors in a row, but offices never the less.
Pepper leads him as perky and prim as anything — there is certainly about her outfit which, well, advertises the assets she has far beyond her mind. Some in the offices might say she's asking for it and, nowadays, that's a perfectly accept comment. So, Pepper hasn't even thought about that mid-level manager since the second it happened, she's just walking at a quick pace of someone who has a thousand things to do. "Do you want coffee? Or lunch? There is an employee cafeteria on floor 28."
*
"Chaos has been my modus operandi for awhile," Banner suggests with a small grin as he traipses after Pepper. His hands retreat slowly into his pockets as they round the corner and he's shown his meagre space. "To be honest," his eyebrows draw together, "I'm not much of an office person. Always more suited for the lab than planning around it." Which is why industry never really appealed.
"I try not to have caffeine," Banner replies easily with a more self-deprecating smile. "Raises the heart rate too much." He swallows hard and gives a knowing glance towards his wrist. With things rather even there's no warning, a thought that provides a blanket of relief.
"Lunch though, yeah. Eventually." Sometime.
Once he sets the notebook down on the desk, he turns to face her. "So." His cheeks hue a pale pink, "I owe you an apology and word of thanks. Again. Thank you." His eyes track downwards.
*
Once they are inside the small, clean lines and heavy carpet office, Pepper turns back to him with a quiet smile. "There are some labs as well, I could take you down there now. Some are off limits without signing an NDA, but I do believe there is a least one open work space that doesn't require such contracts." Then she arches a brow about the heartrate thing, her head tilting a bit to the side. Pepper looks momentarily concerned, as if he might have some sort of heart condition. "I..didn't realize you had a condition. I'll keep that in mind." Oh, yep. That's exactly what she's thinking.
Then he's commenting on what happened last week and she gives him a softer smile, that understanding and protectiveness clear on her tanned features and pale pink lips. "Bruce…I… I'd like to know what happened, just so I know better how to help in the future. How to… well, how to keep an eye out for things. But you have never been anything but a good man and I know your brilliance. I won't ever force you to say. But… you don't need to go through this alone. Whatever it is."
*
Squinting at the notion of having a condition, Banner pauses for a moment only to chuckle. "I guess you could call it that." He draws the spectacle from his nose, leans against the desk behind him, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Slowly he lets out a quiet breath. "It's… it's — " his cheeks hue a brighter red. Why is it the Hulk has to be here?
"Probably something you should know. And then decide whether you really want me around here." He swallows hard again.
His lips twist to the side with indecision, "Did you see the papers? About that giant green mutant during the protest?" Instinctively he sucks on the inside of his cheek as if bracing himself.
*
As he starts on about it being something she should know, Pepper steps back a moment and ensures the door is shut and secured. If he's going to confide in her, she certainly doesn't want him accidentally confiding in anyone else. Once that is done, she comes around to the front of the desk and settles in one of those little chairs across from him. Her eyes are patient and attentitve, no rush in her gaze and nothing but worried trust there.
"Of course, Bruce. You can tell me anything. It won't leave this office, I promise." Sometimes, Pepper Potts was simply too good hearted to be working at Stark Industries. Or, really, in corporate business all together. And then he asks the question about the giant green mutant, blinking quietly, "Ah…yes. I… I saw the papers. He seemed quite… Violent. But you can't believe everything you read in the papers."
*
A nervous chuckle emits from Bruce's lips, and his feet become the most interesting object in the room. "Oh, he's violent." Banner looks up, "Or he can be. I've seen it." His eyebrows draw together and he swallows hard again, "Firsthand." The amusement drains from his eyes, his shoulders hang a little lower, and he sighs as he pushes his glass back onto his nose.
"A psychiatrist once told me he's my id. Some psychic revelation of my most base desires." He blinks. "Kind of like a petulant toddler." He hrms. "A biochemist insisted he only exists because my exposure to gamma radiation." His eyes narrow. "But both seemed to agree that I could keep him locked up. Locked down. Controlled." Banner's lips twitch. "And I have. Mostly."
*
"…You. You are…him." Pepper states in abject shock, her pale eyes a little wider as she stares across the desk at the handsome, somewhat quiet, blushing, mild mannered scientist she's coming to call a friend. She cannot quite comprehend it, in truth, but she doesn't deny his words. She trusts him. She's just processing the shock. She gives him a little, almost embarrassed laugh, "…there are some mornings I wish I smoked." She teases gently.
Then, Pepper takes a deep breath and does what she always does — process new information, figure out how to carry on, keep moving forward. Business is business. "…How bad is it? How… much warning do you have? Do you remember being him? What he does? You didnt seem to remember how you got out west but I figured maybe it was… alcohol, or something, you know?"
*
The revelation as stated by Pepper wins a lot of silence on the part of Dr. Banner. "Technically, yes," he offers quietly. "We share the same body. We share the same mind. But, we're different. Similar in some ways, different in many." He manages a very small smirk, "I don't smoke, drink, or use drugs. I don't drink coffee. I exercise regularly. I practice meditation. I keep him behind the closed doors of my mind as much as I can."
His hands clasp in front of him and he allows his head to cant to the side in consideration of the questions. "I have warning normally. At the protest, my watching was beeping, but I had it managed. Until they tried to pepper spray me." His lips purse. "He's…" his chin lifts as he attempts to define the Hulk, "…kind of like my protector. He doesn't let me get hurt. Shot. Shocked. Beat up. He won't let me get truly hurt." He leans away from the desk pushing his weight back to his feet before walking around it to sit in the chair on the other side. While his back is turned, he adds, "Believe me. I've tried."
*
A slow nod comes from Pepper, injesting all of this information without anger or hate. She's more open minded than most, but she's also quite glad that she's locked the door behind her. She takes in a deep breath through her nose and sits forward in the seat, folding her small hands on the desk top and looking him over as if they were talking about a long term project which had a slightly too soon deadline. Professional, calm, just a hint of worried tension behind her quiet mezzo tones.
"…Alright then. Well, having a warning device is… good. Remembering is good. And… not being hurt is… good. You're a good man, Bruce. I am still certain of that, even if you have this…other side of you. I wouldn't want to see you hurt either." Then something he just said registers with her. That he's tried. And a quiet flood of sadness brushes through her eyes, some odd aching in her chest for him. "Oh…Bruce…" She breathes out quietly, suddenly standing and walking around the desk. Unless he fights her, she'll pull him into a tight, almost immediate hug.
*
A long laboured silence prompts Bruce's eyebrows to draw together as he's pulled into a tight hug. It's been an age since he's experienced anyone else's embrace, and his body automatically stiffens at the contact, but within moments his arms return the hug. %r
And he remains there for several beats, hugging Pepper. Quietly he offers, "It's okay. I promise, it's okay." A small feeling of dejavue tugs his conscious mind. Betty. He'd said almost the exact same thing to Betty when all of this started. It hadn't been okay. His eyebrows knit tighter. Talk is cheap.
He inhales slowly, "I was a wanted man for a long time because of him. The military. Governments globally. People wanted him. I… tried to stop them from ever gutting their hands on him. Or my research." Pause. "I failed."
*
The hug lingers, even if he's stiff and uncertain at first. The care is there, and then he's leaning into it and her small arms tighten against his shoulder blades and she holds him even tighter for a few heartbeats. When he finally tugs back, she leans away enough that they can look at each other, but she doesn't let go of his arms. This close, she smells like Chanel no 9 and some light vanilla soap.
"…Governments…want anything they can consider a weapon. All I can promise you is that you won't be chased like that…here. We want you for your mind, not… Not other talents. I promise. But… how did you fail? You're still free, aren't you? You're not working for them?" She studies him in slightly deeper concern, suddenly wondering if she IS holding a wanted felon.
*
"I'm… " Bruce sighs again and allows his gas ego turn upwards "…it's touch and go." And there is the reality of the situation. "I'm almost working for them. I cut a deal through a," friend? "ally of sorts. Someone I think is trustworthy." His lips press together, "The agreement was me, not the green guy. And so far people have abided by that and mostly left me to my own devices."
He hrms quietly, "But I keep watching my back." His eyes watch Pepper intently, "I spent years running away. Gaining freedom feels weirdly imprisoning."
*
"…I'm sorry it feels that way, Bruce. I do hope it… gets better. And if I can help? You just say. Please. I mean it. Anything." Pepper states firmly, worried eyes never leaving his face for the moment. She gives his arms a gentle squeeze, trying to still reassure, to let him know how much she means the things she's saying. She really is the bleeding heart of the corporate world, it seems.
*
The touch draws Banner's more wistful self to the surface. There's a softness there. "I'm okay," Bruce offers softly, "And I don't mean that in the it's not-really-fine-way. The situation is ever evolving, and it's oddly the best it's been in years." There's an easy earnestness to his cadence. "I promise. But I do appreciate the offer." He shoots her another small smile, "You already have helped, Miss Potts. Sincerely."
*
One last, gentle squeeze from her fingertips, and Pepper's carefully manicured hands drop away from his arms. It's not proper to be so close and gentle to someone like this in a corporate setting, bu Pepper is a rule breaker when it comes to matters of the heart. She does, however, finally step back around to the more proper position across the desk and studies him quietly from a better distance. He does seem to be telling the truth. "Well…I'm glad I could be there to help. And I am actually glad to have you here. I…I hope you stay a bit longer, at least. To work with us. You might like it here more than you realize."
*
There's a flicker of a sheepish smile at the last: "I think — " he starts and then shakes his head. Some thoughts shouldn't be shared. Instead, he suggests, "I'm keen to get creative again. I know Stark Industries has focused on weapons applications, but I have — " he lifts a single finger as if asking for a moment " — an idea." He plucks the notebook from the desk and turns the page over. "This," he points to a pseudo-rocket drawing, minus the top part, "is what I call the Absorbatron." His lips purse slightly, and his smile turns somewhat hesitant. He's about to geek out. And he's so keenly aware.
He flips the page back, "Ever since the a-bomb was dropped in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we've been worried about the potential for nuclear destruction. Absorbatron," he rocks his head, "is designed to take on that nuclear energy to ensure human survival following a nuclear incident." Pause. "If it works," his nose wrinkles and his lips purse, "but it'll need testing. A lot of testing." He lifts a hand, "It's only theoretical, but it's practical applications are… numerous." His smile fades until he fights it, managing another small flicker.
*
While Pepper smiles often, she doesn't TRULY smile, ear to ear, all the way to her eyes, much at all. The sight of his smile about geeking out, even if it's hesitant, is enough to draw it out of her. She likes hearing people talk about their passion. Then he actually offers what he's working on and her eyes go a bit wide. Shocked, interested, hopeful, a whole range of eager emotions dance across her lovely, young features. "…Yes. Absolutely yes. No, we aren't just weapons. We are trying to make the world a better place, Dr. Banner, and this would do that. Please…work on it this week. See if we have what you need in the lab to help assist you and, if you like it here, we can sign more formal papers once I talk to Tony next week."
*
"I…" Bruce pushes his glasses higher on his nose, "I will." There's a boyish quality to the smile he offers her in return — a smile begets a smile, and she wins even more than a turn of lips; his quiet chuckle while genuine has an element of awkward in it — a signal of a past still mentally present. "Thank you, Miss Potts. I'm glad that I'm not barking up the wrong tree figuratively speaking. I just…. I don't want people living in fear." His throat clears. "I've done that too long. No one should live that way." The smile fades and his expression turns pensive, "No one."
*
A gentle shake comes to her head and a bounce of red waves around her shoulders. "No, they shouldn't. You shouldn't either. You're in a safe place here, Bruce. I'm gla dyou're with us." She smiles a bit wider, watching that boyish grin on his face. "…and you're pretty damn cute when you smile like that. Be careful, you'll have the secretaries all over you if you keep that up." She winks at him teasingly.
*
"I am too," Bruce offers with a nod. "Honestly, I'm really glad that," he makes a circle near his head, "he doesn't let me sleep — well, no, but I'm glad that I met you because I wasn't sleeping," his eyes narrow as he attempts to work through what he's actually trying to say. "I guess, what I'm saying is, I'm thankful to have other insomniacs around now and then." The bit about the secretaries paints the apples of his cheeks rouge, a red that hues through to his ears. It's followed by another sheepish smile, "I — thanks?" Because when someone says you have a nice smile, his mother taught him to thank them.
It's only then that he finally notes: "I was people watching when you ran into me. I have to say, I'm appalled by the way so many treat the secretaries. Seems unfair considering they must have degrees and bright minds," he winces a little. "Sorry. I don't mean to judge. I just… everyone in a corporation has something to offer. Beyond their physical selves, I mean."
*
His blushing just makes her smile wider, in truth, her pale eyes charmed and probably the happiest he's seen her. Pepper seems equally happy that HE is here with HER. Like there is some strange understanding between them, even if the weights they both carry are dramatically different. She laughs and bows her head about being an insomniac. "Well, I'm up in condo 4604, if you ever need to visit any night. I'm usually up late. And yes, it's very nice to have company when you can't shut off your brain."
Then he's commenting on secretaries and Pepper just sighs and shrugs, "…A woman with a degree doesn't mean near what a man with a degree does. I even went to a women's business school. Half of it was typing and preparing coffee, though it was supposed to be business. It… it is what it is. We do what we can. That's all… well… all that can be done, you know? It's corporate life. It's generally not so bad."
*
With the truth about the Hulk spoken, Banner feels more at ease, and it visibly shows. "I'll remember that," he posits before tapping on the side of his head. "I think there was a time I used to sleep well." He can't remember it. So he doesn't try.
Her shrug warrants a nod in response. "As much as I wouldn't have chosen to be in that protest," because the Hulk is an ever risky presence in his life, "what they're doing is important. Biologically speaking, human brains are capable of amazing things regardless of gender." Pause. "Oddly, I think objectification is easier than finding personhood. For anyone." His chin lifts, "The government wanted the Hulk. Not me. Because physical body means something different than a mind." He shoots her a vague smile. "I know it's different. I guess I just see the practice a waste. Economically. Biologically. Emotionally."
*
"I…I guess. No, I know, but there is too much to do to attempt and fight centuries of ingrained culture. So, I go do my work. I make certain it all gets done. That's all that matters." Pepper states with a slightly bittersweet smile. Things that she never lets bother her until she actually thinks about them, then, sometimes, it bothers her. She tries to shake it off. "But, I should get back to it. As should you, Dr. Banner. But…do remember lunch, please?" She gives him one last, wider smile and then moves for the door.
*
Kindness and a vague sense of understanding reflect in Bruce's eyes, and he gives her a nod as she moves towards the door. "Lunch is somewhat elusive when I'm on the right track." But then, realizing that this is apt to be met with some vague objection, he adds, "I'll do my best, Miss Potts." And then, as she retreats, he glances at the heart rate monitor on his wrist. "Of course it needs a new battery. Why wouldn't it?" He tugs it off and leaves it on the desk.