Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The question was so out of the blue, so perplexing, so - fuck no, he must be losing his hearing - insane that Tony dropped the spanner. It bounced and clanged angrily across the lab’s cement floor causing one bot - U - to chirp softly and pick it up. U tried returning it to its creator by repeating bumping against his leg, but Tony focused on one thing right now. One person.

“Run that by me again?”

“You heard me.” Bruce Banner stared at an oil smudge between their feet. It was twisted in an odd shape, reminiscent of pancake-shaped licorice. “I don’t think I need to repeat myself.”

“Oh hell, no. No.” Tony yanked the spanner from U’s grip and tapped his shoulder with it while pacing the floor. “You don’t drop a bombshell like that without giving a guy a hint. What brought this on?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah, honestly.”

“It looks comfortably soothing, I’m tired of running, I like who I am...and.” He bit down his response, holding it between his teeth, but Tony could see Bruce mentally shifting gears - frustratingly choosing to conceal a portion of truth. A skill Bruce was, unfortunately, still good at doing.

Bruce sighed. “Maybe I’m warming up to full-on pampering from you and Steve. Do I really need to explain myself?”

“All right, fine. I...get it. Sort of.” Tony paused mid-pace and gave Bruce the side-eye, but not without sauntering over to his extremely significant other while poking him in his gut (and Tony’s finger sunk in a good five inches, before Bruce swatted his hand away).

Like diving into fresh dough, Tony thought wickedly.  

“Stop that.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying, you’re what. Three-sixty? Three-seventy?”

“Three-ninety.”

Tony tutted his tongue against his teeth, his eyes scanning Bruce from head to toe. He’d overlooked how round and jowly Bruce’s cheeks had become and how much more his heavy belly wobbled over his belt like an over-inflated water balloon.

Tony slowly scraped his lower lip with his teeth and let his libido drink in Bruce’s delicious form.  His fat had dissolved all his chiseled edges, smoothing them like candle wax, dimpling him in places Tony never expected to notice. Arms, legs, face, chin, chest, neck - even elbows and fingers Pillsburied up into scrumptious fat. Bruce’d blown up like a county fair attraction and Tony couldn’t tell where he’d even put on the extra twenty; Bruce’s fat had settled into all his body’s spare nooks and crannies. All that lovely jiggling Jell-o. Waiting for touches, prods, tickles, and gropes—

“Earth to Tony,” Bruce muttered, snapping his fingers in Tony’s slackened face.

Tony snorted, pretending Bruce hadn’t mesmerized him and turned him so the fuck on. Was he becoming more like Cap these days? Wouldn’t doubt it. “ANY-hoo,” Tony said, grabbing a rolling chair. He took inventory of Bruce more thoroughly by rolling around the scientist, taking a good 360-look while Bruce stared at his circular pattern.

“Are you trying to orbit me?”

Tony laughed. “No. Although that could be an experiment for another day.” Tony poked and prodded Bruce’s flab, freely grabbing fistfuls of his favorite butterball and fluffing his ample butt cheeks.

“Tony,” Bruce cautioned.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“What are you plotting?”

“Me, plotting? Perish the thought. I’m planning, Banner. I have ideas, I have a million ideas. But we’re gonna have to get Cap involved. He’ll want to know.”

Bruce fidgeted somewhat, which surprised Tony. Didn’t seem like something Bruce would be shy about.

“So soon?”

“Well, yah, the sooner the better.” Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “What’s bugging you, Care Bear?”

“Nothing,” Bruce said, but Tony didn’t believe him. He let it slide as he rolled back to his desk.

“ ‘Nothing’ for now, babe, but I’ll challenge that declaration later.” He did a quick calculation in his head and pulled up Jarvis’ keyboard. “J, open a new file for me. Call it, 'Operation Supermax.’ ”

“Seriously?”

“Don’t mock the name, Brucie Bear. It’s not like I had time to come up with something better.”

“New file created,” Jarvis intoned, flooding the room with his soothing AI voice. “Would you like to add to it now, sir?”

Tony grinned at Bruce. “Scan Brucie for me, Jarvis. Put all his current vitals in there. Show us what we’re working with.”

Jarvis threw up a 3D image of Bruce‘s body and stats. “I will say, I’m quite curious, sirs.“

"So‘re we, J. Especially interested in what’ll happen after we tell Cap.”

Bruce looked less enthused at telling Steve, but whatever. Steve was their partner; not telling him would be ridiculous. “Sure you don’t wanna say why you’re lookin’ grim?”

“I’m not grim,” Bruce stated, and Tony waggled his finger at Bruce’s lie.

“Not my monkeys, not my circus. But you know Steve’ll get it out of you if I can’t, Pooh.”

“I know.”

“Easier to rip off the band-aid.”

“I said I knew, didn’t I?”

“Fine, fine.” Tony toggled a few buttons on his keyboard. “J, call Steve down. We’re gonna have a family meeting.”

**

But Steve relayed a message through Jarvis saying he’d meet up after he’d finished his workout.  Bruce had grabbed five pounds’ worth of snacks and wanted to wait for Steve in the media room, but Tony cajoled and wheedled him until he caved. Which was why he ended up joining Tony in the exercise room instead, ogling Steve’s lifting routine.  Well, “cajoling and wheedling” wasn’t exactly right, to be fair. Watching Steve work out was a damn privilege.

“I feel like a stalker,” Bruce muttered, unwrapping one of his remaining chocolate bars. He wasn’t not staring, though.

“He probably knows we’re here. He says he doesn’t, but I think he does. I’m just obeyin’ my thirst.”

“Quit watching those dumb commercials.” Bruce scarfed down his jumbo Snickers bar with two or three grateful grunts and gulped down his soda. And no, Bruce’s Adam’s Apple bobbing so deliciously up and down did not mesmerize Tony. Certainly not.

Nope.

“Mmf–and/or, get off social media. Sounds like you’re trying too hard to fit in with the cool kids.”

“Heh. You can’t tell me Steve doesn’t like teasing us right back.” Tony pointed his chin at Steve powerlifting weights rivaling Thor’s class. “Look at 'im, you can’t tell me he’s not a thirst trap.”

Bruce made a face as he tossed his wrapper and soda can in the trash. “Definitely too much social media.”

Tony’s eye lingered over Bruce’s dwindling dragon hoard of snacks, which teased a lecherous smile from his lips. “You startin’ early, or what?”

“Gotta keep up my strength.”

“Mhm.” Tony went into his head, thinking about how Steve’d go bonkers. In a good way. Probably in a good way. “You know Steve’ll have his own ideas. You gonna let him go hog wild?”

“Oh, hardy-har.” Bruce tore into a packet of mini donuts. “Yeah, okay, fine,” he grunted. A smattering of donut crumbs sprayed from his full mouth before he put a hand to his lips to stop them. “You figured out why I’m apprehensive. Don’t rub it in.”

“I’m not tryin’ to, Brucie. In fact, I think you’re blowing this up way out of proportion.” And don’t think Tony didn’t recognize the pun, even if Bruce didn’t. He casually watched Bruce scrape crumbs from his shirt. “Don’t you think he cares enough that h–”

“Oh, hey, fellas!”

Steve finally noticed them salivating in front of the spy window. Which was what Tony called it. Really, it was a breezeway with a window to the exercise rooms so folks could check for occupied training floors. But Tony mostly used it to indulge his naturally nosy nature.

Steve grabbed a fresh towel and wrapped it around his neck while Tony bit his tongue. Making lewd comments was tempting and although Steve wouldn’t have minded, Bruce would get skittish if he ramped up the tension now. And if Bruce bolted, well...kinda made what he was about to do moot.

“What’s up?” Steve dabbed sweat from his forehead and plunked next to Bruce on the thirst trap bench. His cheeks reddened when he noticed the mound of opened goodies. “Is it an emergency? Fury call us in?”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Tony said. He propped his feet beneath the breezeway window. “Bruce has something he wants to say.”

Bruce wiped powdered sugar off his lips while swallowing thickly. “Well, not...exactly.”

“Yeah, ya do, exactly,” Tony said, nudging Bruce’s shoulder. “Boy Scout,” he said, calling to Steve. “D'you think you could steel yourself enough to not act like a kid in a candy store?”

“Tony…”

“Bruce, hon’, it’s all good. Steve,” he started again. Poor guy already looked five kinds of confused. “It’s something that’ll affect the three of us but unless Bruce explains with his big boy words I’m not gonna help him.”

“Traitor,” Bruce huffed.

“Only way to kick you out of the nest.”

“What,” Steve said, finally getting a word in edgewise, “the hell. Are you two talking about?”

Bruce shot Tony a narrow look before turning to Steve. “It’s...it’s not enough,” he began slowly. “I-I mean, we’re fine,” he stuttered, gesturing to each of them. “We’re great. But I want. I want more. And I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”

“Just know,” Tony interrupted, “I’m on board 100% if you are. But I’m looking at this from a scientific perspective more than–”

“I thought you said I should tell him.”

“Well, you’re taking too long, Banner. Cut to the chase!”

Steve held up a hand, motioning both to shut their traps. “Thank you,” he said once they quieted. “Now. Bruce. Muffin.” He stroked Bruce’s chubby cheek and Bruce melted like butter in his hand. “Gimme the specifics. Let me decide if I’ll be okay or not with whatever it is.”

But Tony could see the small trembling smile on Cap’s features; Steve was noticeably scared. He made a face, hoping Bruce hurried it up before causing irreparable damage.

“I want,” Bruce sighed heavily. His glance went back and forth at the men in his life, then to his hands. “I’m not exactly happy at my current weight.”

Steve’s lips thinned. He looked like someone had taken his favorite toy away, but the expression fled before Bruce caught it.

Tony noticed, though.

“So you want to lose weight,” Steve sighed. He kept his voice level but Tony detected his disappointment. “Well, I understand. It’s not like we expected it forever and–”

“No,” Bruce interrupted, quieter than before. He wrapped his hand around Steve’s, stilling the man’s jitters. “You’ve misunderstood. It’s…ah. It’s the opposite.”

Steve’s cheeks flared while Tony choked back laughter from Steve’s startled expression.

“W-what? You wanna gain more?”

Bruce slowly nodded. “I know you’ve always been encouraging, and you seemed satisfied when I tapered off. But I really like it when you and Tony feed me.” Bruce reached for Tony’s hand and rubbed his thumb across their knuckles. “I like breakfasts in bed, lazy nights watching B movies, and eating crappy takeout. I like feeling overstuffed, and the headiness the feeling brings me. I think I’ve gotten as large as I can on my own. So I’ll need help from you and Tony to get…um. Larger.”

Steve visibly gulped. “Um. H…how much larger are we talkin’–?”

Bruce glanced Tony’s way, and Tony encouraged him with a nod. “Um. To a point where I can  stay sedentary. I’m happy at home - I’m happy here. With us. I don’t want to run anymore, and I want to feel grounded. Literally. So–”

“He wants to become immobile,” Tony explained, butting in again. “Which is no mean feat, with his metabolism. Even with Bed, even with all the snacking and meals he gets, he’s probably leveled off. But if we’re talkin’ immobility, we’re probably addin’ another three hundred to him, more or less.”

Cap let out a shaky sigh. “Whoa…”

Tony shrugged. “Again, more or less. Depends on what 'immobile’ means to a guy like Bruce. 'Course you know,” Tony said, sobering. “He’s wouldn’t be totally immobile, not really.” His dark eyes roamed Bruce, emphasizing the seriousness of his next words. “The only way that would happen is if we separated him from the Hulk.”

“Which I’m not asking for,” Bruce quickly piped. “That’s not my goal.”

“Good. 'Cause that’s more than my paygrade. What'dya think, Spangles?” Tony turned to Steve. “You in, or what?”

“I…I’m not even sure.” His expression remained pensive before hovering between Tony and Bruce. “I think I want to understand what that means before I agree to it. It’ll change our 'rules,’ our dynamics, the team–”

“Absolutely,” Bruce agreed. “But I guess…I’d like to retire, if that’s okay. From the team. I’ve already spoken with the university–”

“What?”

“You have?”

Bruce motioned for his boyfriends to calm down.  "I’m not giving up teaching, I’m just switching to an online format. I’ll still be an adjunct but I won’t teach in person or in front of a classroom. And besides…“ He sighed, but a small smile teased his lips. "I won’t be mobile enough for a classroom. At least that’s what I’m hoping.”

Tony shared a look with Steve who looked both mesmerized and stunned. But then Tony noticed something else a sly, (dare he say it), evil mastermind grin on Steve’s face rivaling their greatest enemies.

“Steve. Your bad boy expression is showing,” Tony muttered.

“I know, I know,” Steve breathed. “But I kinda I wanna know how soon we can start.”

Chapter Text

Truth was they couldn’t start right away, not without enough data. It took a good two months of Tony and Bruce meticulously analyzing Bruce’s metabolism before they could begin the testing phase, but after tirelessly testing his food consumption, mobility, and sleep habits - and adjusting Bed with different “supplements” Bruce enjoyed throughout the day - they pinpointed the handful theories with promise.

“You know,” Tony said, eyes scanning the floaty blue diagram of Bruce’s body. “We haven’t taken one thing into account.”

Bruce spread his fingers, further blowing up his body’s image while concentrating on the data. He noted a few interesting nuances but his thoughts floated in and out of reality so he didn’t pick up on Tony’s brainstorm. “I thought you agreed with me on the finer details.”

“In theory, I guess, but you didn’t like my other suggestion. You know it’d help, in the long run.”

Bruce nibbled his lip and cautiously turned his effigy on its axis. His belly became a mountain, high and proud, rising above all the data points. “I’m not sure it would. There’s a good chance it’ll aggravate the Other Guy, resulting in an unscheduled Code Green.”

“True, true.” Tony nodded and fiddled with another data stream. “But speed, Brucie. It’s a faster way. What we have right now might work, sure. But it may take a while before we get close. Years, even. You wanna wait that long?”

Bruce grimaced and spun his figure around, unnecessarily. “You know I don’t. But I’ve put the cart before the horse before and the results weren’t pretty.”

“I dunno. Green still suits you.”

Bruce glowered over the schematic readings, ignoring him.

“I’m just sayin’, Bruce. Think about it.”

Bruce remained mum but Tony knew he’d planted the seed.

**

Unfortunately, when they finally began the first official test week, Bruce didn’t receive the results he’d hoped for.

“Less than a kilogram? That’s it ?”

“We’re fightin’ nature, Big Guy.” Tony glanced at the scale, shrugging. “We can adjust the formulas of the current weight gain drinks and powders, but you still need to consume your food fast enough to override your body’s heightened abilities.”

“It's not... bad necessarily,” Steve murmured. “It’s some gain, right?” But Bruce saw his disappointment, despite not saying it. 

Dammit . Bruce ran a hand through his curls and they toppled over his scalp like loose springs. They'd tried every last detail as far as he was concerned. Well, everything within his safety limits. Shaking his head, Bruce regarded Tony and Steve with a frown before pacing the lab. “Granted. But with all the data we've gathered, I was sure we'd've come up with a faster method. I was positive we’d had a solid workaround.”

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 liquefying your solid food in one of those heavy duty Vitamix blenders.”

Bruce made a face. “I’d rather not vomit, thanks.” He stopped pacing and stroked his jaw, talking through the problem as he’d done dozens of times before. The frustrating truth tumbled from his tongue, as if he were trying to evoke an answer from an unseen power. “God dammit, I need to find a way to eat beyond my hard limits! 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, grinding his teeth. “That’s the last thing we need. 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 and tell him, gesture. “It...could be faster.”

“Guaranteed faster.”

“Allegedly,” 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, and Bruce felt a pang in his belly, realizing what he’d done. They’d done. “Sorry,” Bruce muttered.

“Yeah. Uh, Sorry, Steve. We should’ve included you in the science stuff.” Tony scratched his cheek. “We might as well tell him, mind if I–?”

Bruce huffed testily. “Be my guest. You were going to, anyway.”

“Right,” Tony murmured, although he surprised Bruce by giving him a small peck on his forehead. “It’s one option that yields good results: fasting .”

“Fasting?” Steve folded his arms into his chest, disagreement etched in his 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. He didn’t believe he was telling them already, but maybe the time was right. “I’ve been…working on a few experimental compounds to quicken the results.” He looked up quickly at their sounds of surprise. “But hear me out, I haven’t tested my hypothesis and I’m a little unsure of the outcome. I’d rather not consume any supplements created in a lab, until I’m sure.

"But fasting…” Bruce paused and sighed. He ran his chubby hands through his curls again and chewed his bottom lip, shooting a hard glare in Tony's direction. He hadn't wanted to get into this conversation until he'd had more data, but it was what it was and despite Tony pushing him, the man had a fair point. 

But .

“Fasting is problematic,” he continued, “because it'll rile up the Other Guy. I hope the compound I’m developing works, because I’m hesitant to try anything that threatens my calm. Not sure which is worse, to be honest.”

Tony had the audacity to roll his eyes at him. “We’ve got this, hon’. You know we do. We have the Hulk pod in the basement, and you could even stay down there when 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 clouded, and Tony gave him a look; Bruce had a feeling his eyes had flashed green, enough for Tony to notice. “We’ve never tested the containment pod,” he growled, and his voice was a half-octave lower than comfortable. “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.”

Again, heedless of the consequences, Tony shrugged at him. “We’d be down there with you, you know that. Suit yourself, but five years is an awfully long wait for a goal weight.”

Bruce paced off his nervous energy. “Too long.”

“Man, you two.” Steve stood in front of Bruce and gently placed his hands on his shoulders to stop his steps. “How many times have we said we’re in this, together? You think we’re too weak to handle you going all out? Is it so wrong to go for broke?”

“Exactly." Tony's lopsided grin didn't bode well, in Bruce's opinion. They were screwing around with things they didn't understand. "What harm could it do?”

Bruce locked eyes with Tony. “You don’t want the answer to that question.”

Having heard enough, Steve 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 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 caved. He settled into Steve’s warm embrace, absently wondering what he’d finally done right to deserve him, and Tony. “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 broke with a small smile. “We’ll figure it out. I’m thinkin’ maybe we try a little of everything? 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, and Bruce laughed at how quickly he shut down their workstation.

**

He groaned and fumbled for his glasses, feeling stuffed, warm, loved, and achy all at once. He was definitely sore all over from everything they’d done, but they were good feelings; rubbing his belly, Bruce was surprised at the small rumble back. Was it possible he was simultaneously hungry and stuffed at – he glanced at the clock – 3:30 in the morning?

He pondered the idea as he figured out how he’d roll from the bed this time. In the beginning of their relationship he’d slept between Steve and Tony, but as big as he’d gotten he'd clung to their bed’s edges now, becoming the big or (not-so) little spoon to them. But because he was so huge, it was impossible not to wake Tony or Steve if he got up in the middle of the night.

A tiny smirk teased his lips. He loved their ridiculously comfortable bed and had second thoughts about leaving it, despite his hunger pangs. We’ll need a sturdier bed later , Bruce thought, and his hopes of successful bed-bound joy shot tiny, happy currents of electricity through his body. It took longer than average to do every day tasks, like getting out of bed or sitting down, despite being mostly mobile. But future him wouldn’t need to worry about such nonsense things.

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

He grabbed his robe (a robe that barely fit, the same robe Tony and Steve swaddled one another in, on cold nights) and slowly shuffled to the closest kitchen. He was out of breath halfway, but no matter; he had a feeling Tony had plans to cobble a kitchenette together, once walking became bothersome.

Humming, Bruce grabbed fried chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes and corn casserole from the fridge and loaded his plate. For good measure he also grabbed ice cream, chocolate cake, and a spoon, and he nibbled on the sweets while the microwave warmed the leftovers. His mind wandered as he waited. Yes, there was something he hadn’t considered - a nightly feeding routine had definite merit. Doing would exhaust him, but he could catnap during the day. 

Alternately, he could modify a sumo wrestler’s diet to fit his needs - they were well-known to carbo load, and sleep between feedings and training - but Bruce had a sneaking suspicion he was already consuming more calories than the average sumo, just to maintain his weight.

He clucked his tongue. 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 while 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. “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 had his own special stool, wider and more heavily reinforced compared to the others. And though Tony threatened to make the other stools the same for symmetry’s sake 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.

“So, Bruce. What’s got you up at this hour, besides food?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“More than.” Steve grabbed the hot food from the microwave as Bruce piled ice cream into a bowl with toppings - the “good” ice cream toppings, according to Tony.

Steve put the ice cream back in the freezer, gesturing 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 found something that might work.”

“Oh?”

Bruce smirked and shoveled the corn casserole into his mouth. “Mmf,” he said, mouth half full. “But that’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.”

After Steve revisited the fridge to dump shredded cheese and pats of butter to the rest of Bruce’s mashed potatoes, he folded his arms and leaned on the counter. “What’s the other half, then?”

Bruce twirled his fork through the cheese and butter, fluffing them together as contented noises rose from his throat. “Ooh, yeah. Perfect.” He snuffled as he scarfed down his food. “Mm. ‘Kay. So…it’s cosmetic.”

“Cosmetic?”

“Yeah.” He scraped the crumbs off his empty plate before mechanically digging into the cake and ice cream. He briefly caught Steve replenishing his dessert whenever he looked close to finishing, but Bruce appreciated the gesture.  “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, 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, yum. That is amazing ,” he said, realizing Steve’d poured warmed chocolate sauce over his cake and ice cream. He shoved giant bites of the treat into his mouth, double chin quivering as he gobbled every last crumb of deliciousness as fast as humanly possible.

“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. He grabbed a napkin and patted his lips. “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?”

He covered his mouth again, stalling a hiccup. “Nah. 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 patted 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 opened the freezer back up and took out the ice cream, grabbing a fresh spoon. “But you’re still my Muffin, regardless. So let me make sure you’re really full before you wake up hungry again.”

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

***

That got Bruce thinking, though; the key wasn’t one particular 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 let his bets 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, and 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 that he hadn’t. He needed to own up to it.  “I’m going to become someone 'otherworldly.’ Monstrously huge’, as it were. I...well, I want the opportunity to put my humanity on equal footing with the Hulk. I know that 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. 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. He gently tapped Bruce's skull. “But we're gonna keep saying it until it reaches that beautiful brain of yours: we’ve got this. We can handle it. So let’s pour through your notes and come up with some cool ideas to-fucking-gether.”

Chapter Text

With the three of them working more earnestly than before, Bruce allowed a few tests that he would’ve normally nixed. Like using Tony’s idea of fasting which worked, but a little too well, since yes, Hulk made his debut. And Hulk was none too happy about them starving “chubby Banner.”

“At least he didn’t say ‘puny.’” 

Bruce shot Tony a sickly glare. “What did I say?” He growled at Tony, but it wasn’t much of a growl because he was too tired to be anything more menacing than a kitten. He sighed and stared at the floor, simultaneously pissed and exhausted. “Now we’re back to square one.”

“No, we’re not." 

He huffed. He would’ve blown up at Tony, if he weren’t so worn out. “According to whose logic?”

But Tony had that look in his eye, the one Bruce hated, the one of foreboding and horribly dark mysteries. Tony tapped his lip and looked coy as he paced the Hulk Room. "Well, you were out, so you didn’t hear all of us talking.”

Bruce sighed. He wasn’t in any mood for Tony’s games, but glared blearily at him anyway. “Who?”

“Me, Steve...and Hulk. We had a long conversation.”

“You what?”

“Oh, don’t act like that. He’s nowhere near as clueless as you’d like him to be and he knows exactly what we’re doing. Exactly.”

Bruce gulped when Tony came nearly nose-to-nose with him while sporting a maniacal grin. “And I think he understands 'your’ body better than you do, Brucie.”

“He most certainly does not,” Bruce retorted, affronted and downright indignant. “I’d like to see his degrees in biochemistry and biophysics.”

“Hah. He doesn’t need 'em.” Tony winked at Bruce and pulled back from his space. “He just told me he’s Santa Claus. 'Cause he sees you when you’re sleeping and knows when you’re awake.”

“That’s not at all ominous.” Bruce ran a shaky hand under his chin, feeling the Hulk’s deep chuckle inside his core. But before he could evaluate why, Steve entered the room carrying no fewer than ten take-out bags. The arousing, heavenly smells of greasy take-out permeated the air, sending his salivary glands reeling while blocking his rational thought.

“Gimme,” he commanded, grasping the air.

Grinning, Steve tossed a bag over and Bruce tore into it, grabbing the first sandwich he found. He inhaled it, savored it, and let the flavors roll across his tongue. He was addicted to all the flavors, which he wouldn’t deny if asked. After five, maybe six bites, he was left licking the leftover scattered crumbs and ketchup blobs from his naked chest. “Whew. Yeah, that hits the spot.” He grabbed another bag.  “Tony, I was already goin’ over it in my head–”

“Sure ya were.”

“Shut up. I was.” Bruce realized he was being mean but he was starving, dammit. He found some fries, but wanted something...something--

“Did you get–?”

“Shakes? Sure did.” Steve handed him a nondescript bag that was suspiciously different from the others. Bruce grabbed the bag, yanked out a frosty shake with a straw, and began gulping it down. “Mmm,” Bruce moaned. He ogled the container. “Why’s this so tasty?”

“Additives,” Tony said, grinning at Steve. “Courtesy of Mean Green. He knew you’d like it.”

“A special shake with sweetened condensed milk swirled in,” Steve admitted. “And malted milk powder, melted fudge, flavored syrup, and a heavy cream whip.”

“Also including, the pièce de résistance, two scoops of the gainer recipe you created.”

Bruce knit his brows and paused as he slurped up the dregs of the frozen treat. “I was still analyzing the compounds.”

“Well, fine, but Hulk knew your formula was chilling in your office fridge. He told us it was ready to go, so we could put your hypothesis to good use when you shrunk back.”

“He had no right.” Bruce ravenously bit into another burger. How did he--? Bruce thought. He shook his head. Nevermind, forget it. “I wasn’t finished with the clinical trials.”

“Probably thought you needed a push.” Tony fed Bruce some fries so he could two-fist them with his burger.

“Besides, Hulk gave us some good ideas.” Steve’s face flushed as he watched Bruce down his food with renewed gusto. “Including the sleeping problem.”

“Wha’ sheepin’ prob'em?” Bruce knew his fat cheeks were chipmunk full but he couldn’t stop the angry question from tumbling from his lips. What the hell had Hulk been telling them?

“He knows how to make you sleepwalk,” Tony said.

“And sleep eat,” Steve added. “In fact, he’s done it before.”

Bruce squinted, feeling his eyes form angry slits as he swallowed his mouthful. He chomped into his fries, furiously shaking his head. “That’s abusive. I didn’t consent.”

“He said he only did it once, when you were passed out from hunger in a deserted, fuck-all place. He had to, or you’d’ve died.” He tore into his sandwich, jaw working bitterly at Tony’s revelation.  “He can still access that part of your brain but he promised not to, unless you’re willing.”

“That’s an unacceptably high risk.” Steve offered him a soda and Bruce snatched it from him. “That fuckin’ sneaky motherfucker –”

“Bruce,” Tony sighed. “He’s asking you now. He could’ve done it without you but he told us, so we could ask on his behalf. So do you want his help, or not?”

Bruce made a face, even as Steve handed him fries and another shake. He swirled his fries in the thick chocolate malt while mulling over ideas.  “That’s not the point.”

“I think you’re mad he came up with the possibility, and you didn’t.”

He rolled his eyes and screwed up his face, noting the pulsing of the Hulk deep in his gut, despite feeling physically drained. “Not. Even. Remotely. True.”

“Quit fussing and finish your food,” Steve said, hiding a laugh.

But while fuming and suffering to himself, Bruce systematically worked through the food bags while begrudgingly agreeing with their assessment. It solved an issue he’d been contemplating, regarding the night feedings. He’d originally considered an IV but Hulk’s admission could potentially produce a better result. But doing so meant giving Hulk unconscious and conscious control, and Bruce scoffed at the very notion. He and Hulk had boundaries for a reason. And although He could access Bruce’s mind in an emergency or whatnot, giving Him absolute control wore their boundaries painfully thin.

“Let me think about it,” He murmured while forlornly poking the depleted bags of food. “But is there...any more? I’m, ah. I think I’m still pretty hungry.”

“There’s plenty more,” Steve said. He smirked at Tony while tossing another bag to Bruce.

Bruce’s eyes widened. Along with extra burgers and fries Steve added one of his favorites, one of Shake Shack’s frozen concrete desserts.

Yum.

“Mmm,” he sighed, calming down as he finished his food. He hiccuped twice and rubbed his belly after every bag was emptied. Well, he supposed he could conclude the gainer formula worked better than expected. He was definitely hungrier than after a normal Hulk-out, and he could choke down twice as much (the double-SmokeShack burgers and sodas, fries, shakes, and desserts barely made a dent).

Only time would tell if nightly feedings would help or harm, but at the following week’s weigh-in the results were greater than anticipated, and Bruce almost celebrated. 

Almost.

“There we go,” Tony crowed.  “Two and a half kilos. That’s definitely progress. At this rate, you’ll be where you want in twenty or so months. Not bad.”

Steve was over the moon, sporting a goofy grin, and although Bruce was quite pleased, he felt ready to ramp it up.

“It’s good,” he huffed. He tugged at his tighter belt, determined that this would be the last week he could fit in his current khakis. “But I can do better. So I’m in.”

“In, as in–?”

“Hulk and I agreed. I’m gonna let him take the reins,” he said. “Starting tonight.”

He watched the simultaneously startled and pleased looks on his lover’s faces and accepted their hugs, but even he knew giving Hulk control wasn’t as easy as just saying it. Bruce needed people strong enough to keep Him in check if something went wrong - Steve preferably, or better yet Tony in an Iron Man suit and Steve. 

“But he hasn’t earned this level of trust,” Bruce clarified. “And I’m not comfortable with him in the driving seat.”

“He knows that,” Tony huffed. Tony seemed a lot more at ease with the prospect than Bruce ever would be. “He’s been itchin’ to come out, sure, but he knows the two of you have to share the one body. He’s more okay with it than you give him credit for.”

Bruce grit his teeth. “I know you trust him, since he saved your life and all - ”

“You both did.”

“Nevertheless.” Bruce cut him off. “He’s very unpredictable. Even with my resolve he has moments of wanting to break free and I will never, ever feel comfortable giving him control. The whole ‘give an inch’ idiom is extremely à propos. Give him an inch, and he’ll take a fucking planet. You have to watch him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, Banner.”

“I mean it.” Of course Hulk vehemently disagreed, but Bruce stuffed him down. “This isn’t a game, it’s my life. And by proxy, His. You can’t fuck around.”

“Hey, c’mon.” Steve quietly got between the two of them. He rubbed Tony’s back and kissed Bruce softly. “We’ll be careful, Bruce.”

“Promise?”

Steve smirked. “Well. Tony always said I was a Boy Scout. So hopefully my promise means something.”

Tony simmered down and rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine, we’ll 'watch’ him, or whatever. But I’ll prove to you that there’s nothing to worry about. You’ll see.”

“I intend to.” Part of the compromise included wearing a body camera every night, to see what Hulk saw and hear what Hulk heard. He glanced at the two men. “I’ll review the data each morning. And if I see anything untoward, the experiment’s over. Done. No second chance.”

Tony almost rolled his eyes but chose not to after Bruce shot him a deadly glare. “It’ll be fine,” he pressed, but Bruce looked to Steve for confirmation. Of the two, he trusted Steve’s judgment more. 

“There’s nothing we can’t handle, Muffin.”

“I hope so.” But even if they tried it, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure Hulk wouldn’t do something against his will. Regardless of what he told the others.

**

“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. None of them knew what to expect. “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, okay?” Steve 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 flicked his chest, and the nanotech lights woven into his top 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 tapped his earlobe. “Jarvis has me connected;  I won’t miss anything.”

“Okay…okay.”

Steve knew Bruce was anything but okay, so he held out his hands. “C'mon, let’s try it,” he said, waiting for Bruce to grab his hand. 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. He swallowed and lumbered across the sheets to settle between Steve’s legs. “Now lay back, Muffin.”

“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 it when Steve cuddled and nurtured him. He initially pretend not to, but Steve felt how quickly tension left Bruce’s body when he took control, treating 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 like a duck to water.

Steve widened his legs a little more, letting his body respond as Bruce nestled in. Over the past few weeks he’d noticed Bruce’s broadening backside, and his gains excited him. A lot. “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 still 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.”

“Mmm.” 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 Jarvis 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, Steve thought, skittering around the kitchen corner, they really should’ve asked Hulk more questions.

“Bruce?” He whispered. 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.

He tried again, louder. “Bruce, are you in there?”

“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 in Bruce's own body.

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, but 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.”

But the next morning, when Steve told them what happened and they reviewed the footage, Bruce held his head in his hands. “Oh my God... Steve! Why the hell did you tell him that?”

“C’mon, it’s not that bad, Pooh Bear.”

Bruce’s eyebrow quirked as he glared at Tony.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s not impossible.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “I can’t understand how Hulk knew.”

“He ‘sees’ a lot of what I do, but he doesn’t understand it. That’s the problem.” Bruce belched and rubbed his tummy. Steve could tell he was still uncomfortable from Hulk’s night raid, but he hoped Bruce would be hungry for lunch, eventually. “There’s no way we can get all that crap. Even if we did, who the fuck would 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. “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.

Fortunately they didn’t have to soothe Bruce’s concerns for long. Steve whipped up a post-Hulk breakfast and made Bruce drink his gainer shake, which gave the man had enough of an appetite to eat a few full meals and then some before grabbing a nap. And with Bruce clocked out, it gave Steve time to review the Hulk footage with Tony. He wanted to share some of his concerns, ones Bruce didn’t need to worry about. Not yet. 

He turned off the footage after viewing it with Tony a third time. They both agreed the video was practically pornographic, but they needed to see it again and again. For research.

Yep. Ju-u-ust Research.

“So? More thoughts?”

Tony shrugged, bumping Steve’s shoulder, then ran a frisky stocking foot up Steve’s leg. Steve hid a smile; he had a feeling the three of them would be enjoying themselves after Bruce’s nap.

“It’s not as dire as Bruce makes it. Honestly, I bet he’s secretly pleased because Hulk totally behaved himself, totally stuffed our boy with some high dollar menu items. We’ll appreciate the results in a pretty short time.”

Steve's smile slipped out while his face heated up. "You should’ve been there, Tony. Hulk was an eating dynamo with nothin’ stopping him. He got pretty filthy and so did the kitchen, so I 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.” Steve trailed off, chewing his lips.

Tony maneuvered his body to catch Steve’s eye. “What?”

Scratching his neck, Steve sheepishly looked away. This was the conversation they needed to have but he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive. “I think Hulk enjoys sharing Bruce’s body because it gives him a perspective he doesn’t normally have. I got the feeling he wants to take over Bruce’s body more often, like he did last night.”

“Hm.” Tony’s expression sobered. “Don’t let Bruce hear you say that. He’ll go apeshit.”

“I know. He’s already concerned about his and Hulk’s boundaries and this sharing thing is stressful for him. But is it bad--? I mean, Hulk would still be 'out’ more or less. But without the threat of 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.” 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.”

“Oh? Didn’t you know?” Tony plastered on his sharkiest, snarkiest grin and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tony Stark. I get shit done.”

Chapter Text

 He didn't think he'd feel hungry ever again, but after Steve sulked and fretted from his tirade Bruce wanted to make an effort to eat for him, at least. So despite his reservations he consumed an abnormally large portion of gainer formula...and in response (or retaliation) his hunger beat him like a prize fighter. It roared like one of Tony’s supercharged V-8’s and caused fumbling, blind panic (a state uncomfortably similar to a Hulk red alert), and only Steve plopping a plate of food in his face saved him from hightailing to a containment room.  

“Dig in,” Steve said, though Bruce barely heard him. His chin (chins, now) quivered as he greedily shoveled down a huge breakfast of thick Belgian waffles smothered in buttery syrup, and sticky buns from his favorite bakery. He only started feeling normal again after downing a quart of home fries with a full-sized spinach quiche and - oh - about six or seven fluffy biscuits smothered in strawberry jam. He remembered maybe a donut, or three? Maybe pancakes from the remaining waffle batter? He might’ve eaten those and more on his way to satiety but he’d zoned halfway through, enthralled by all the sweet and savory flavors.

But grunting and rooting through his breakfast like a prized country hog caused something to dislodge, something...disquieting. Nothing alarming, not really. But the experimenter inside awoke, wanting to play. Wanting to stretch boundaries. Dangerous, yes, but a seed had been planted and Bruce absently wondered how far he could take things. 

“Hey, Muffin.” Steve planted a kiss on Bruce’s stomach while Tony’s calloused hands delicately massage his underbelly. Bruce couldn’t see him; his stomach was far too large. But they continued to spoil him, he thought with a sly smile. They really did.

“Hmm--?”

“You’re a million miles away. I said, you should take a nap for a bit. We can wake ya later.”

Bruce squirmed when Tony pinched his abdomen. If they kept at it they’d be in bed all day, if he had anything to say about it. “Tony,” he cautioned.

“I know, I know.” Tony’s head popped up and Bruce laughed at the wicked grin marching across his lover’s features. He patted Bruce’s leg and sat on the edge of the bed. “Get some shut eye. We’ll wake you in a bit.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Bruce nodded. He rubbed his eyes, wondering in the back of his mind if his lovers needed to know his intentions. Probably not, he thought, hiding a yawn. The formula had a lot of interesting implications, and they all deserved to see how much he could do. Or consume. But he wouldn’t tell them yet. He needed more data. 

He yawned again as Tony tossed a blanket over him and Steve gave him one last, soft kiss. “Big dreams,” Steve said, making Bruce smile. His eyelids drooped heavily. He would increase his new baseline and go beyond safe levels at lunch. It’d be the only way to know for sure, to see how his body reacted. After all, he felt fine - stuffed, yes. But his body seemed to compensate for the higher consumption rate. Bruce just needed to know how much his human body could compensate.

He drifted off, making his final decision. He’d do it. Starting at lunch. All after a nice long nap, of course.

**

It was almost three hours later (three!) when Tony woke him, explaining they had private brunch reservations at a new Thai place, not far from their home. Bruce was still groggy and stuffed, wondering if the formula would “un-stuff” him again, as it had at breakfast.

Only one way to find out.

Bruce noticed while putting on his clothes that yes, his same pants were much tighter than from a short week ago and the buttons on his shirt had begun puckering. He pulled the shirt forward, forcing whatever give his shirt had to the front of him, but he knew it wouldn’t matter once he sat. He smiled a little wickedly to himself. He should put on a show for his lovers, but it wouldn’t be right in public. Debating between wearing a sweater vest in August or wearing a scandalously tight shirt, he decided to split the difference with a tie. A tie would modestly cover him, sort of, but it’d still be obvious enough for Tony and Steve. 

Good, they liked seeing their damage anyway. When Bruce was sufficiently dressed he waddled out to meet them, ready to face the afternoon’s challenges. 

Tony drove, since it wasn’t too far. Truth be told the restaurant was probably within walking distance, but walking more than a few quick steps was out of the question for him now. “I’d heard good things about this place,” Steve said, when they rolled up to the valet. "Weren't they in the papers a few weeks back?"

“Last month. No Michelin stars yet, but some of the best chefs sang their praises.” Tony tossed his keys to the valet and helped Steve pull Bruce from the back seat. “Their duck,” he grunted. They groaned and pulled and shoved and rocked the car while Bruce searched for purchase on the sides of the door to pull himself out. Tony began panting. “-is- to- die-for. Christ --” 

Pop ! Well, not literally. Bruce felt like he popped free, after a lot of work on Steve and Tony’s part. 

“Whew!” Steve laughed. He helped Tony to his feet when the man stumbled back after freeing Bruce from the car’s back seat. He took a good look and a wicked smile pinked the sides of his mouth. “Kinda tight back there, huh?”

"I don't know how the fuck Banner got in, with that much trouble." Tony smoothed his jacket. "Like tryin' to dislodge a cork from a Margaux gone to vinegar."

Bruce smirked and smoothed out his shirt, making a big deal of showing off the tight seams behind his tie. “Might be the last car ride for me.”

Tony made a small disappointed face. “No! Ignore what I said. I like our car rides.”

“Then buy a bigger car,” Steve retorted, and Tony hummed, seemingly thinking it over as they ambled to the bistro. The dimensions of the front door were a little small for Bruce’s liking, but he found a way of squishing through after sucking in a breath. 

“Design flaw,” Tony muttered. Bruce didn’t think much of it. The bistro probably didn’t have many customers his size, but for those who were, it definitely was worth noting. Tony’d surely get them to renovate before long. Especially if they wanted one of his signature glowing reviews.

When they entered the restaurant Bruce salivated at the heavenly waves of Thai chilis, coconut milk, and lemongrass wafting around them. The emptiness of the bistro confused him though.

“You’d think they’d be packed this time of day.” Steve and Bruce followed Tony as their waiter showed them to their table.

“Oh, I rented out the place for three hours.” Tony grinned and gave the drinks menu back to the waiter. “Gave them twice as much as their average weekend for the entire day.”

“Just to rent it for a few hours?

“Yeah?” Tony looked at Bruce and Steve askance. “You know I have money, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess we can justify it. The staff will have a small break for a few hours to serve us, before their dinner rush.”

“Exactly. And they’re getting bonuses that’ll pay their rent for at least three more months. So there is that.”

Bruce smirked at them as the waiter seated them. The bonuses would also somewhat buy the worker’s silence, he supposed, with them being celebrities and all. He toed the chair before sitting. It seemed solidly built, and there was enough room at their table for the three of them to spread out. Good start. 

“So what’s on the menu?” He took a menu from the server.

Tony waved off the server and plucked the menu from Bruce’s confused hands. “You won’t need that. They have a lunch buffet, and it’s stocked with your favorites.” 

Bruce laughed. “Did you pay for them to cook it, too?”

Tony shook his head. “Nah. That’s why I chose this place. I knew you’d love the food.”

Bruce chuckled and patted his stomach. “Well. There aren’t a lot of foods I don’t like these days.”

“Touché.” 

Steve eagerly grabbed Bruce’s plate. “Time to get crackin’.” Bruce smiled a little as Steve rushed towards a long table of heated foods. He hoped Steve would grab something for himself, because honestly, he had a fast metabolism, too. He didn’t need as much as Bruce, but his metabolism was still up there.

Tony tapped his hand. “Hey. You doin’ okay?”

“Sure, Tony.” He gave Tony’s hand a little squeeze before shrugging. “I guess it’s kind of weird, though.”

“What is?”

“How hungry the formula makes me. How it makes me feel.”

Tony smirked over his sunglasses. “That big, beautiful brain of yours figured it out. It’s what you wanted, right?” Bruce slowly nodded. “Well, we can already see the results. It’s working out for the better. Maybe we could visit one of those food challenge places - you’d beat everyone, hands down.” 

“It wouldn’t be fair to them.”

“Who said anything about fair? It’s about the free food, love.”

Bruce smirked. “True.” His smile faltered a little. “Although I wonder...”

“Wonder what?”

Bruce shrugged him off when Steve returned with a huge tray of pineapple peanut satay chicken and five or six random bite-sized dishes with a giant bowl of rice.

“Whoa,” Tony laughed. “Enough food there, cowboy?”

“No,” Steve answered, snorting. “Gotta get the appetizers first. Then go for the main meal.”

Tony laughed again. “Of course. I’ll probably start out with the soup, though. They’ve got an award-winning curried pumpkin.”

Bruce perked up. “Curried pumpkin...?”

Tony grinned as he got up from the table. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you a bowl, too.”

“Mmm,” Bruce sighed. He gazed at the chicken lovingly. “It looks great.” But Steve’s hand shot out before Bruce could dig in.

“Didn’t we forget something first?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. “Saying ‘Grace’?” 

Steve snorted and pulled out a bottle of something that could’ve passed for a condiment, save for the clear, gluey substance inside. 

“You brought the formula?”

“Of course! Can’t have you tired and full before you’re ready.”

“You’ve gotta point.” Bruce greedily slathered the component all over his chicken and into the peanut sauce. It was more than he’d put on his breakfast meal, but he’d been planning to do that anyway. He’d also brought along his own portion of his formula, and after seeing the first part on his food he figured what the hell. He spread it over the last batch. 

Steve pursed his lips. “Is that too much, d’you think?”

“Nah. It’ll be fine.” Probably. Maybe. “Bottoms up.”

Bruce tore into the portions of satay like a bull in a glass factory, but soon the comfortably numb feeling of the formula overtook him and he really began eating in earnest. He didn’t remember Tony coming back with his soup, didn’t remember what he’d eaten after the satay. Every once in a while he heard himself snap at someone for a different dish, or he’d get so lost in the flavors he couldn’t think straight - he just wanted more .  So it could’ve been minutes or hours when he finally looked up and blinked at the stacks of empty plates on their table. Tony was cleaning off his hands and Steve wiping his face, and an impressed waiter bowed contritely at him, clearing the mountain of plates from view. 

“Holy cow,” Steve said. His cheeks were bright red and he was looking Bruce over with the strangest expression. He reached over to adjust Bruce’s tie. “That was...I dunno what that even was.”

“Mind-blowing,” Tony finished for him. He threw a sticky cloth napkin on the table, but the expression on his face was impossible to interpret. “You back with us, Big Guy? You done?”

“Hmm?” Bruce felt slow and extremely stuffed. He shifted a little in his seat, realizing his pants were entirely too tight, but he felt too shy to undo his pants in a public space. He noticed food stains splatting his shirt before timidly dipping his napkin in his water glass and dabbing them. “Did...did you guys eat anything?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s smile morphed into something Bruce was used to seeing at home. In private. “You wanna...go home, maybe? Take some of the edge off?”

Bruce’s cheeks pinked up. He shyly glanced at Tony. And although Tony’s expression hadn’t really changed, his sly grin returned. 

“It’s already time to go?”

“We’ve been here more’n two hours, Pooh,” Tony explained. “So lemme settle up with the restaurant and I’ll let the valet know we’re ready. You can get as comfy as you want in the car.”

Bruce nodded, ecstatic at the thought of unbuckling his pants and being free from his too-tight clothes. He checked his shirt again, noticing that yes, at least one or two buttons were obviously straining for dear life.  No tie could hide it now.

And he was so very turned the fuck on.

He licked his lips. “Hurry up, Tony.”

Tony laughed.

While Tony drove them back home, Bruce was close to begging Steve to blow him in the car, but he wasn’t a total heathen and waited until they returned for stuffing sex. 

And God. They'd been ridiculously horny. Insatiable rabbits.

And after another long nap they ordered him pizza, all for Bruce because Tony was pleasantly full from lunch and Steve was barely hungry. Steve still grabbed a few slices, but even his appetite wasn’t on par with Bruce’s anymore. Especially not with gainer additives. Bruce poured a tablespoon of the formula on his pizza but even with that small amount he plowed through four extra large supremes without a sweat. Maybe in the back of his mind a few warning bells rang. But did it really matter if it was working? He was fine and the experiment was a success. He could finally eat beyond his limits without his metabolism overwriting his results. Probably explained why he had to take long naps afterwards, but he hoped he wasn’t boring Steve or Tony with sleeping so often.

He yawned and fell asleep with his belly full of pizza, forgetting about Hulk’s upcoming night raid.

**

Tony’s lip twitched at Bruce’s snore. 

“You think we should wake him?”

He made a face. “Wake him, to tell him to go back to sleep? Did you think that sentence through?”

“Cut it out, Tony. It’s a legitimate question.”

“Yeah, I know. I know.”

Steve sighed, slung his arm over Tony’s shoulder, then gave the man a quick peck at his temple. “What’s really bugging ya? You were quiet all evening.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“To me. I don’t think Bruce noticed. He’s been in and out all day.”

“Mm.” Tony made a face when he realized Steve expected an answer from him. “Dunno. I’m still thinkin’ it over and I don’t have an answer yet.”

Steve looked at him with fake horror. “The Great Tony Stark, speechless? The world’s ending.”

“Fuck you,” Tony muttered, not unkindly. He glanced at his watch and muttered another curse. “The caterers’ll be here in about an hour.”

"You really found everything?"

"Of course I did."

Steve shook his head. “You’re a marvel, Stark.”

“Come from a long line of ‘em, apparently. Look, I need to set up for Hulk - and likes his food ready and I’d rather keep our kitchen in working order by the time we’re done. Think you can take care of sleeping beauty there?”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve sighed, running a hand through Bruce’s curls. “You think Hulk’ll put in an appearance now, without ‘asking’ Bruce first?”

“They worked it out earlier. I’m sure he’ll know when to come out.”

“Okay.” Steve chewed the inside of his cheek. "Regardless. Be careful, yeah? Only your suit’s made of metal."

“Super strong nanotech,” Tony corrected. “And it’ll be great. Aces, even.”

“Whatever you say,” Steve said. But Tony didn’t think he sounded convinced. To be honest, neither was he.

**

"Lay it out."

The caterer and their helpers looked confused. "On the--"

"On the tarp, yeah. Line up the steno and servers in a line. The tarp's fireproof," Tony explained, although he doubted they thought that was the weird thing. "Set it up. I'll take care of the rest."

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

Fortunately they didn't bat an eye. He figured they'd seen weirder things. Probably from him, come think.

He gave the catering crew time to plate everything but kept checking his watch. He still had to prep before their guest of honor showed.

When they lit the last steno he clapped his hands. Only one startled. Good. "Awesome. All finished? Wonderful. Someone'll drop off your gear tomorrow, or you can bill us. Jarvis, see 'em out. Thanks." He shoved a bunch of hundreds at the nearest person.

"If you would, please follow the lights as I direct you to the exits." A few of the newbies blinked around the room, but most of them knew the drill; they'd dealt with Jarvis before and knew their way out.

When the last one left the kitchen, Tony let out a slow puff of air and stilled his breathing. "How're we on time, J?"

"The last caterer will leave the building in approximately two-point-six minutes, sir. From what I've been observing with Captain Rogers, I estimate Doctor Banner will enter NREM sleep in approximately six minutes."

"Perfect. You clear on the plan?"

Tony could almost hear Jarvis sigh. The minute pauses mimicked one enough times. "Of course, sir. Although if I may interject?"

"Shoot." Tony darted around, finishing the set up before Bruce-Hulk lumbered in.

"I assume Doctor Banner will want--"

"Nope, no," Tony said, cutting off his AI. "This is a need-to-know op only and Banner doesn't need to know. Not until there's conclusive proof. You cut the feed on my mark, got it? Don't go all HAL on me."

"Perish the thought, sir." Jarvis would be chuckling, if he were human. "But I felt I needed to voice my concerns, considering your current relationship status."

"Duly noted. Bruce will...well." Tony gestured flippantly. "Either way we'll know conclusively and I'll apologize to Bruciekins tomorrow. I'll have to drag the rest out of him later anyway."

"Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?"

"You got it, J."

**

Within ten minutes of Tony's talk with Jarvis heavy feet slapped the kitchen floor. Not as heavy as Hulk's actual feet but it wasn't Bruce's footfalls either; Bruce's tread was normally softer and shuffled more. The new steps were definitely steps of purpose and power.

"Hey, Hulk, it's Tony. I'm over here."

"Tin Man?"

Bruce - no, Hulk - poked his head into the formal dining room. It was damn weird, but Tony had no problem differentiating between Hulk taking Bruce's body, and Bruce himself.

"Yeah, it's me. Have a seat. I got your grub."

Hulk snuffled and snorted the air, and plopped heavily next to Tony. "Smells good. What's that?" He poked a server, and Tony lifted it.

"Twice fried ostrich wings, like you requested. Cajun spiced, using a seasoning mix from that guy you remembered on TV."

"Prudhomme magic," Hulk rumbled, and Tony stopped short from reeling in surprise. No. Definitely not stupid. At all.

He'd have to keep on his toes.

"That's right. Chef Prudhomme's legendary seasonings." He watched as Hulk took an ostrich wing and sniffed it cautiously. Laughing, he stuck half in his mouth and crunched it, bones and all.

"Good. Good ostrich!"

“Some of the best chefs in Louisiana fried it up and sent it to you. We've also got your--" he tore off another lid, "--deep fried Rocky Mountain Oysters, swimming in white gravy, and..." he removed another server lid and stopped short of shuddering. “Crocodile and alligator tripe, simmering in an alligator head with the eyeballs still attached. Just like you wanted."

Hulk grunted his approval, scooped a hand in the warm stew, and slurped it. "Good. Very good. Where's main dish?"

Tony sighed deeply. "Big Green, you've got some unique tastes and I'm diggin' the vibe. But just know for Bruce's sake we couldn't serve it to you raw."

Hulk slammed his fist on the floor, but it was still Bruce's fist. So Tony called it a win despite his tantrum. "Cap said anything!"

"Yeah, he did. But think about it. You wanna do Bruce a solid, right? Make him big and cuddly, like you?"

Hulk snorted, but folded his arms in a childish pout. "Yeah."

"And you wanna make sure you can do this again, right?"

"Hmph."

"Then you gotta do right by him. You're in his body, so take it easy." Tony removed the last lid. "Ta-daa...frog and rattlesnake stir fry. Not quite raw but as close to raw as we could make it without making Bruce sick."

Hulk grabbed a handful of the hot dish and shoved it in his mouth. "Banner not get sick," he muttered. A frog leg tumbled from his lips as he talked with a full mouth. "Banner has Hulk's immunity. No poison can kill Hulk!"

"True, true," Tony said. "But it can hurt Bruce temporarily. He wouldn't want that, and he'd kinda hate you for it."

"Mm." Tony could tell Hulk was mulling it over as he continued shoving the food into his mouth with his bare hands. The last server had the deep fried andouille sausage with crayfish gumbo in it (crayfish heads still attached, of course), but Tony figured Hulk would get to that eventually. It was definitely the messiest of all the dishes. Who knew Hulk was such a foodie of weird foods?

"Andrew Zimmern ain't got nothin' on you," Tony muttered.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, Hulk. Go back to feasting."

Hulk nodded vigorously and scooped fistfulls of one dish, then the other, and poured them into his mouth. A lot fell to the tarp, but Hulk scraped up the scraps. Waste not, want not, he supposed.

After five minutes of watching Hulk develop an easy eating rhythm Tony licked his lips. "Hey, Jarv," he said quietly.

Jarvis relayed his response to Tony's hidden earpiece: "Understood, sir."

Although Bruce pinned a GoPro to his robe Tony'd hacked the camera days ago. He had Jarvis loop the feed so it'd show Hulk chowing down. He knew he'd only have a few minutes before it'd look suspicious, so he had to hope he got everything he needed from Hulk in one take.

"Hulkie," he began. "You love Tin Man, right? Love all this great food?"

"Mm. Yes. Good food. More tomorrow?"

"Sure. Let me know what you want before we wrap up tonight. Can't promise you everything, but we'll do what we can. Like the rattlesnake. That fair?"

Hulk snorted and dumped a handful of the gumbo in his mouth. Which, of course, dripped down on everything. "Is okay. But not great."

Tony chuckled. "I get it," he said, then sobered. "I also get what you're not telling Bruce. You're workin' the system, Big Green. Not sure I'm okay with that, and I know Bruce won't be."

Hulk didn't respond, but continued stuffing his face.

Good, Tony thought. He knows I'm on to him.

"Pull back on the control shit - you're mucking around with Bruce's subconscious more than he's aware; I saw you at lunch today. Don't deny it."

Hulk laughed, deep and throaty. "Fooled you. And Banner."

"A little, yeah. But I know that's not all - you're not dumb but neither am I. You helped Bruce with that gainer cocktail, didn't you? I'm guessing there's more junk in there than Bruce realizes."

Hulk stilled, and for the first time that night Tony wondered if he'd have to activate the nanosuit. "I see what Banner sees," he murmured. His voice was oddly calm, oddly quiet. "But Banner doesn't see what I see. He doesn't know what I know."

Bingo .

"It's all an act, isn't it?"

"No."

A chill came over Tony and his brain overclocked. "Shit...Hulk isn't the only one in Bruce's head, is he?"

Bruce almost smiled, but the expression wasn't Hulk's. Wasn't Bruce's, either. "Are you going to tell on us?"

Don't. Don't freak out. Don't. Freak. "Depends." Tony was surprised at how calm he kept his voice. "Who are you, and what are you planning?"

The Person sighed softly and briefly brushed away food from Bruce's robe. "Actually, I like being left out of things. I work behind the scenes, and I don't wish any harm. I'm actually the one helping maintain control over Hulk these days...I suppose in a pinch you could call me the lecturer-researcher construct." He paused, tilting his chin before sharply nodding.  "Call me Professor."

Tony swallowed. "Professor? Like when Bruce works at NYU?"

Professor hummed. "I'm present at any event where he's teaching, or when he learns something new. But honestly, I'm harmless. You've seen me before - I was the first to touch the Tesseract."

Tony sat back on his heels and scrutinized Professor sharply. "Huh. Yeah..." he gestured lamely at Professor's face. "I can see it now, a little. I remember that expression." Burned forever in his brain, now.

Sighing heavily Tony licked his lips, pausing at whatever seventh hell revelation this was. "So, um." He shook his head. He wanted a drink. Several. Despite cutting back for his boyfriends' sakes he wanted to drown his brain in a tank of whiskey. "Where...?"

"Where does this put the four...hum. Five of us?"

Tony nodded lamely. "You outflanked me. Royally."

"Did I?" Professor seemed to take that in stride, and smiled coyly to himself. "It wasn't my intention. I simply revealed my hand because it was timely. There wasn't anything left to hide." He tilted his head and gazed at Tony. "It doesn't change anything. Of course you should tell Banner and yes, even Captain Rogers, but do ask yourself if this is the right time. Could be fairly disastrous for the three of you if your timing's off." Tony narrowed his eyes slightly. Was that a veiled threat--?

Professor stretched and yawned, and held his hands above his head for a beat. "I'm actually quite pleased Banner wishes to become immobile, Tony." He smiled softly and ran his hands over Bruce's swollen belly, imitating a mother-to-be's reverence. The image burned Tony's retinas and he felt sick - maybe a bit horrified. "I'm looking forward to reading all the books I've yet to read and I'm glad for the time I'll have to myself."

Professor checked his wrist, as if viewing an invisible watch. "By the way, you should tell Jarvis to turn the camera feed back on. It's been far longer than five minutes."

Tony snorted. "You sly motherfucker. You knew all along."

"Of course I did." He winked and saluted Tony with two fingers. "Be seeing you, Tony."

Tony watched as Bruce's body shook before returning to shoving food in its face.

"Good food! Hulk wants more tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Big Guy," Tony whispered. He let out a shuddering breath and ran a hand down his face. "Jarv, tell me you recorded all that."

"Yes."

The AI's response was curt and to the point; he probably had as much to think about as Tony did.

"What the ever living fuck ."

"Sir. Doctor Banner's Person was correct in one sense. It's been far too long, and there's bound to be an interrupting glitch in the feed if closely scrutinized."

"Yeah. I know." Tony licked his lips and made a circular motion in the air. "Go ahead and turn it back to black, J. Shit. I have no idea what the fuck I'm gonna say tomorrow. Hell, I dunno if I can keep up pretenses tonight ."

"Might I suggest trying your best, sir? Especially as we're going live in three...two--"

"Shit."

But somehow Tony plastered on his showman's grin to mask his shell-shocked face pretending for all the world he didn't do a Prince of Bel-Air, Freaky Friday flip. He watched Hulk eat most, if not all, of the dishes and he whistled for the 'bots to clean up the mess before guiding Hulk to the shower and repeating what Steve had done the previous night. But his mind was split and he knew he couldn't maintain the act for long. Both Bruce and Steve'd know something was up but he wasn't sure how, or when, he'd tell them.

God. This was why he hated covert shit.

Chapter Text

"You...wait. You're-- where ?"

When Tony sighed and finger-combed his hair, Steve already knew he’d hate his response. " Korea ," he barked on the video feed. " Emergency SI meeting I couldn't miss. I had to jet out at three am just to make it on time for this fuckin' shithole of a gathering."

The corners of Steve’s lips tugged and he silently wished he were in the gym instead of Bruce and Tony’s joint lab - at least then he could’ve punched something. Rubbing his brow he slowly exhaled, letting his eyes briefly flit over to Bruce. The scientist had removed his glasses at some point, worrying the temple tips of his glasses between his fingers in order to ground his emotions.

“Stay safe, Tony.” Bruce’s expression hardened as they watched Tony’s dog and pony show.  

Steve glowered at a stain on the lab floor, reimagining it as abstract art to calm down. "You're gonna be back soon, right?"

"Six, seven days. Tops."

"Gonna hold you to that."

Bruce sighed heavily and folded his arms into his body, curling in as tightly as an angry pill bug. “And you’re sure you...you can’t come home? I mean, can’t you--”  

“Sorry, Pooh,” Tony interrupted. Tony’s veneer almost cracked despite how hard he kept it up. He opened his mouth to spin another lie, but wisely shut it after a pause. “I’m sorry. I wish...I--I’m sorry.”

Tony finally looked genuinely contrite, but unloading now wouldn’t do them any favors, and God knew Bruce didn’t deserve to feel worse. Steve briefly watched as Bruce squeezed his glasses frames between his fingers, bending the frames. Tony, you goddamn knucklehead, Steve thought. I hope you’re jumping on the next flight home, so help me... 

"Come back soon," Bruce murmured. He was trying like hell to stay stoic but Steve caught glimpses of his hurt and anger, regardless of how scrupulously he stuffed his emotions. “We...ah. We miss you.” 

But when Bruce nibbled his lip to stop it quivering, Steve was seconds from throwing his better judgment off a cliff.

"I'll be back before you can say Jack Daniels, Pooh. Can't keep me away. Ciao ."

And Tony cut the connection before they did.

“God.” Steve stared at the blank video screen, cheek jumping from the strain of his clenched jaw. "You okay with any of that?"

"Not at all."

"You buy the whole, 'Hulk broke the GoPro and the feed didn't load' crap?"

"Nope."

Steve stared at his feet. Might’ve been Tony’s game, but Tony didn’t get to set the rules. "Jarvis,” he began, rocking back on his heels. “What protocols are up for last night's north kitchen feed, from say...eleven PM to two AM?"

"Protocol 1-1 A, 2B, B2, B3. Zero. Zero. D. Zero."

"Dammit. Total lockdown.” Obviously there was something on the feed he’d hid from them, but Steve hoped Tony left too quickly to throw up the protocols. Never underestimate a genius, he supposed. 

He paced and ran a finger across his jaw. “Bruce, can you crack it?”

“ Crack it?” Bruce laughed awkwardly, and Steve stopped pacing long enough to see if Bruce had gone green. He hadn’t, but the shock of Tony’s abandonment was definitely wearing off. 

Bruce stabbed a finger at the monitor. “The fucking computer hacker ran off, in case you forgot. And besides, you really don’t want me mucking around with Jarvis’ programming.” He tugged his nose and matched Steve’s paces, unconsciously copying him. “Running away’s my schtick, not his.”

Steve stopped pacing. He went over to Bruce and wrapped his arms around him, and Bruce sunk into his chest.  “What the hell was he thinking, Muffin?”

“Dunno.”

It’d been a while - years, maybe - since they’d had a fight this big and Steve hated the tension. By now one of ‘em would’ve apologized and fallen into a teasing banter; he’d mention something about Bruce looking too small, needing some carbs, and Bruce would jiggle his belly and say something crass before an “annoyed” Tony plugged him with food. Or Bruce’d mention the chore of walking from one end of the room to the other, and Steve’d laugh about how he’d heard Bruce coming from two rooms over and Tony’d mention he’d be lighter with his clothes off--

"I can only conclude one thing,” Bruce began, shuddering in Steve’s arms. “I caused it. Hulk...Hulk must've said or done something. That's the only reason--"

"Don't, Bruce. God, no." He hugged Bruce tighter. "It's not your fault. It's...whatever screw's loose in Tony's head right now. He ran but we're gonna have to let him go until he's ready to come back."

"I...I don't think I can handle not knowing." Bruce pulled away and wrung his hands. His voice began cracking under the strain of holding back his emotions. "If it's my fault, I need to own it. I--I have to. If Hulk...if I hurt--"

"Shhh..."

Steve grabbed Bruce again, not letting his doubts tug him under, again and again...God, he was gonna kill Tony for his passive aggressive bullshit.

"I need to find out what happened." Bruce sniffed, quickly put on his glasses, and violently scrubbed his face beneath the lenses. "Tony doesn't do this. He wouldn't do this to us. To me ."

"I know, Bruce, but--"

"No, Steve," Bruce ground out, standing his ground. "It's not normal. The clues are around here. We'll...unearth every rock, no matter how ugly it is."

He gave Bruce a supportive half-shrug. "Okay. We can try. But where should we start?"

Bruce paused. "Jarvis," he said. "What are Tony’s lockdown protocols prior to late last night?"

"No protocols exist, sir."

A broken, bitter smile spread across Bruce’s lips and Steve squeezed his shoulder. "Then that’s where we start."

**

Jarvis did not have any innate or latent talents, save what his creator provided. But as a fully functioning AI construct, he did have different skills from all other AIs due to his unique processing abilities. His creator gave him the capability to learn independently, and Jarvis had studied human behavior quite extensively. He wouldn’t have arrogantly presumed to be superior to human beings - a human created him, after all - but if he had a mind to brag, he would’ve easily said he could correctly predict behavioral outcomes within one one-hundredth of a zeptosecond. When Tony discovered his AI began correctly predicting the subtleties of negative human behavior he’d been awestruck, but thrilled. Jarvis had hidden talents he didn’t know about. How cool was that ?  

But for all his specializations, Jarvis couldn’t prevent situations, or interrupt situations in progress. Certain incidents were frustratingly human and sometimes, in his darker core, he wondered what he could do with extensions. If he could give comfort or aid with arms. He had knowledge; he’d consumed all the knowledge humans catalogued in every library in the world. However. All knowledge was speculative and theoretical, unless put to the test. 

So. He could try.

And considering the situation, he certainly could do no worse.

"Sir," Jarvis prompted. "I know you've muted me, but I feel insistent."

"N'now, J." Sir’s slurred speech wasn't an unknown to the AI, and Jarvis easily interpreted the garbled words. Video was only partially effective as he was using Sir’s wristwatch to “see” and the odd angles at which Sir held his hands hampered his visuals. Jarvis could make out a desk and his creator’s slouched posture over a near-depleted bottle of Glenlivet Reserve, 25 years. 

"G'wan...G'wan home."

If he could sigh, he would have. He did not believe the amount alcohol consumed was safe. Over the years Sir’s tolerance levels had dropped, and it currently took far less alcohol to trigger his safety protocols.

"If you persist, I will need to contact the authorities per emergency health protocol 1, aka, 'Pepper's Law.' " Unbidden, Jarvis monitored Sir’s respiratory and heart patterns and ran a quick diagnosis. Alcohol was a known sedative, and his creator had not imbibed this heavily in several years.  There could be lethal consequences if continued.

"You've had twenty ounces of whisky in less than two hours. I'm obliged to, per the vernacular, 'cut you off.' " 

"Hmf." Tony sloshed another shot in his glass but Jarvis doubted Sir could recognize the tumbler at this point.

" Sir ."

Sir huffed and stared at the shot glass. But something must have activated within him, as he seemed to ponder the drink and observe it. Then he flung the glass into the wall, sending liquor and sharp shards across the room.

"Fuck. Fuckin' sucks, J."

"What does?" Sometimes, Jarvis learned, the best option of all was to keep people talking. He would continue to monitor Sir's health levels, and if they dipped below dangerous levels he would call an ambulance and the hotel concierge. He would also alert the staff in the morning, regarding the mess and glass shards. "Oblige me, please."

Sir ran a hand through his hair and the camera angle jared from the desk to his creator careening, back-first, onto his bed. Jarvis could record the ceiling, and noted the sleek, rotunda designs of a four-star hotel room for his files. 

"World. Shit. World spins. Spins."

"Alcohol at extreme levels create the illusion of a 'spinning planet,'" Jarvis agreed. "However, it's a density difference between the cupula and the fluid in your ear canal--"

"Y'sound like 'im."

"Who, Sir?"

"Brucie Bear. Juuust like 'im. Fuck. It's...it sucks. He. He's not the same."

"How so? Could you elaborate?" Jarvis made a few other calculations. Sir would, most probably, fall into an unconscious state in three minutes or less, depending on their conversation. He would continue to monitor his health, however. Sir’s BAC would continue to climb but should remain below emergency protocol levels.

Barely.

His creator’s voice hitched. Jarvis' camera jiggled and his feed included a blurry smudge. "I dunno...gotta say, wasn't expectin' it. Me an' Cap, we gotta...gotta change it. Regro. Renog..."

"Renegotiate?" Jarvis offered.

"Yeah. That. Poor Bruce..."

Sir trailed, and Jarvis wasn't sure if he'd succumbed to sleep. His heart rate and breathing slowed enough to warrant it.

"Jarv. He...does he know?"

"If you're referring to Professor Banner's knowledge of an additional alter, I do not believe so, Sir. Not according to what I could determine."

"We gotta tell 'im. Dunno how. He's gotta know. S'ok to tell 'im, J. I give you permish."

"Understood, Sir."

But Jarvis wasn't sure if he’d been heard, as the audio echoed with tortured snoring.

**

Bruce coped by diving into his data but technology wasn’t Steve’s forte. And going to town on a sandbag didn’t seem prudent with Bruce so close to snapping. Still. He couldn’t sit around and do... nothing .

When Bruce tinged green and snapped at him for asking him too many goddamn questions right now, Steve he ordered lunch and left Bruce to his research. Not that he noticed his absence in the first place. 

“Wow! You’re--a-are you...uh--”

“Maybe,” Steve shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood to play hero to a fan, but he was trying his best to be polite. He grabbed the delivery bags from the Uber driver and gave him extra money. Something Tony said, to “bribe them for their silence.” He didn’t realize Tony tipped so heavily until he got what it meant to be a high and mighty celebrity in this day and age.

“But no one’ll ever believe ya if you tell ‘em, will they?” The Uber driver made a move to get his cellphone, but Steve gave him the eye and he wisely put his phone away. “Good man.”

Steve ignored the ogling driver as he grabbed all the bags and headed inside, but he watched to see if the driver took a picture anyway. He didn’t; Steve nodded. He’d be sure to Tweet him a good review from his official “CapnMurica” handle. Remembering Tony’s lessons on tipping sent Steve’s heart sinking. Tony didn’t have to run. Nothing was so bad that it risked them splitting up. They should’ve worked it out. Together. 

Bruce was still tearing across one of the keyboards when he strolled in with lunch. He half-listened while he set up a side table, but Bruce was deep in thought and hadn’t heard him enter.

"Jarvis," Bruce grunted. He was glancing at a sciency sheet of paper before checking his handwritten notes. "Run thirteen fifty-two through fifteen-forty, double speed."

"Same parameters, sir?"

"Yeah."

Steve briefly looked up, watching Bruce tent his fingers and leaning close at the monitor playing yesterday's living room feed. Curious, he crept behind Bruce and stared over his shoulder. The feed played Bruce guzzling down his pizza while he and Tony fondly looked at him. Bruce was a little messier with the crumbs than usual, but Tony wasn’t--

"Jarvis.” Bruce was close to yelling, and Steve jumped. “Pause it!"

The feed stopped. Tony's expression had changed from his usual leer, to...something darker. He was scrutinizing Bruce like one of his experiments. Steve remembered seeing Tony’s face like that at lunch, but he’d laughed soon after and Steve’d forgotten. He thought it was due to Bruce eating a hundred miles an hour and acting all prissy when he didn’t get what he wanted fast enough. Steve thought it was kind of funny but Tony didn’t, apparently.  

Bruce grit his teeth, muttering to himself. "You spoke about my big, beautiful brain, Tony. What about yours? What are you hiding?"

Steve touched his shoulder. "Hey."

Bruce yelped, and Steve chuckled quietly. "Sorry, I had to interrupt. You’re thinking too much so I got us some lunch.” He handed Bruce a submarine sandwich and chips, and brought out two drinks. “You need to eat, Porkpie."

“Okay, okay.” Bruce tore into the food as soon as Steve handed him the bags, but kept one eye on the monitor. He started in on the chicken pesto hoagie and added a few potato chips to it for a crispier texture while waving a hand at the monitor, playing back at one-tenth the speed. "I could've had the bots get something for me from the kitchen." 

Bruce frowned when a few globs from lunch dotted his shirt, and Steve handed him a napkin. "Except you didn’t.” His voice was a little sharp, but he felt justified. “You disappeared into your little project and forgot to eat. Can't waste what we've done so far, gotta at least maintain you."

"Maybe. This is more important, though." Bruce nodded to a soda can and paused when Steve gave him the opened one. "You added the gainer fuel?"

"Yep. So you'll get hungrier in a little bit. But I'm ready." He held up another bag of food.

Bruce rolled his eyes and took giant gulps from his can. “I need to concentrate. If I get too hungry, I won’t be able to.”

Steve shrugged but put down his sandwich when something on the crawling feed caught his eye. Something was definitely wrong. He tapped the screen, scanning the slow video feed as Bruce sighed.

"Do you see it?"

"I think so. Jarvis, pause it for me?" He ran his fingers across Tony's visage. "You can see it there. He's weighing the pros and cons, mulling over consequences." Frowning, he shot Bruce an icy glare. "You and he can get like that in the lab, and it's impossible to talk to either of you when you're like that."

"Sorry." Bruce apologized and threw the empty soda can into the trash. "We do go into 'science mode' more often than not, and leave you out." He shook his head, glowering at the same screen. “We’ve got maybe a day to piece the clues together. As soon as Tony returns to his right mind, he'll lock down everything left and right, more than even now. We’re lucky he let us see the events leading to last night.”

"What else is new?" Steve ground his teeth. “He used to say Fury’s secrets had secrets. He’s got his own, too.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Steve swallowed. He hadn’t pulled his punches and he didn’t have any right to throw stones around. Not when... dammit . 

He should’ve said something yesterday. 

Grunting, Steve rapped the screen. "I...may have part of the puzzle. Tony didn't want me to say anything, but due to current events I think I should."

Bruce curled back in his chair, which popped and squealed under his large frame; Tony mentioned fixing it soon, but it probably needed replacing the rate Bruce was gaining.

"Enlighten me," Bruce barked coldly. 

Steve sighed, pulled up a chair, and reached for Bruce's left hand. But Bruce quietly moved it away from him. "Fine, then,” he snorted. “It'll make you mad."

"Better angry than clueless." Bruce tapped his fingers against his desk. "Tell me, Steve."

"We had a talk yesterday. During your post-breakfast nap."

Bruce turned to face Steve, his face unreadable but undeniably chilly. "About?"  

"I, ah. I told Tony that I thought--" he rifled a hand through his hair and puffed out a gust of air while Bruce kept his glare on him. "It's the Hulk. I told Tony that I thought Hulk...was finding a way into your subconscious to manipulate you."

" What ?"

"Yeah. It's a theory, though. I'm not sure if--"

“No...no, no--it isn’t possible--” Bruce whipped to his monitor and shoved away last night’s feed. He pulled up a string of data and formulas and anxiously scanned the contents. "There's no way...he couldn't have,” Bruce finally whispered. He sat back leadenly in his chair. “It’s impossible, he's not that smart..."

"Who, Hulk?”

“Yeah, yeah...” Bruce scrubbed his face as if warding off a migraine from hell. “This is...no. Hulk couldn't. But how-- ?”

A funny little chill crept up Steve’s spine and he came as close to Bruce’s space as he dared. He got this way, on rare occasions. Usually when he was fighting off an unscheduled Hulk event. "Hey, Muffin. Talk to me."

Bruce waved him off but Steve made the decision to get closer. He wanted to support him but-- yeah. There it was. A small tinge of green crawled across Bruce’s hands. 

“Bruce, hon.” He licked his lips. “Hold it together.”

“There’s nothing--” Bruce’s voice deepened. “There’s nothing to hold together. Tony left us.”

Hell. He didn’t notice he was changing. Jesus--

"Doctor Banner," Jarvis interrupted. Bruce seemed to hear that, though, and his very green, very bright eyes turned to the sound.

"Jarvis,” Bruce growled, “unless it's Tony put it on the back burner." He brought up his notes and frantically poured over the minutiae of each section, his body alternating between green and pink, his hands expanding and shrinking. 

Steve’s heart hammered in his chest. “Jarvis,” he called to the AI, “this is out of my element. Is this a Code Green, or what?”

The AI paused entirely too long. “Uncertain, Captain Rogers. Might I suggest grabbing some water from the lab refrigerator?”

“On it.”

Bruce had begun mumbling to himself, shivering. "T--this doesn't feel...right. This--"

"Bruce, sweetheart.” Steve quickly grabbed the water, opened the bottle, and presented it to Bruce but Bruce batted the bottle away and water tumbled to the floor. He bit back a curse. Staring into shifting green, brown, and hazel pupils, he gently shook Bruce. “Talk to me, baby. Whoever you are now."

"Steve.”  Jarvis intoned suddenly. “Doctor Banner has a message."

Steve straightened and stared at the ceiling, realizing the interruption’s importance if Jarvis deigned it necessary while Bruce was...having a fit--

“Is the message from Tony?”

“No.” Jarvis was cold, direct. Steve didn’t remember ever hearing that kind of tone from him. “Someone else.”

“I...I have to go,” Bruce murmured, his voice shifting into a guttural range. His back expanded and slowly ripped through his lab coat’s puckered seams. “Find T-Tony...” 

"Doctor Banner,” Jarvis interrupted again. “You have an emergency message."

"God dammit,” Steve yelled, feeling at his limit. He wouldn’t be able to stop Hulk rampaging after Tony, if he was dead set on finding him. “If it’s not Tony, it’s gotta wait! Help me with him, or I swear--”

"Captain Rogers, please be patient. I believe this would be the ideal time to give Doctor Banner some water--?"

“Didn’t go so hot the first time, but sure, whatever.” He took a few quick steps to the fridge and pressed it into Bruce’s hand, unopened, and this time the ice water had the desired effect. Bruce shuddered and shrunk while the creeping green over his body faded to pink.

“Thank fuck,” Steve murmured. He collapsed on Bruce’s chair while Bruce blinked at him and came more to himself.

“Did you...did you just swear? The big swear? You never--”

“Can it,” Steve huffed. He ran a hand down his face. “Do you even know what happened? I was well within my rights.”

Bruce slowly blinked, his huge doe eyes unfathomable as he took a sip of water. “I...ah. I’m afraid I don’t. What do--”

"Doctor Banner. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Jarvis," Bruce said quietly. He took a few more gulps of his water. "I'm here."

"Please remain calm."

"You were turning green, Bruce," Steve explained but Bruce barely acknowledged him. He was calm now, but out of it. More than Steve expected him to be.

"You have an emergency message," Jarvis repeated.

"From...who?"

"I was instructed to play a message once you reviewed your notes and became...disoriented. Please review the video feed piping into your monitor. Should you like, you can ask to view it alone or with Captain Rogers."

"I'd...like to stay," Steve murmured. Whatever it was, if it was important enough for Jarvis to interrupt them while Bruce was fighting down a Code Green, it had to be important. And Jarvis wasn’t making sense. He dug his thumbs into Bruce’s back, fighting Bruce’s taut muscles along with his own. "If that's okay with you."

Bruce finished his water, somehow becoming more lucid as its coldness cleared his brain fog. "If it's serious, we should see it together." He gently kissed Steve’s arm. "Thanks."

Steve kissed Bruce’s temple. “Don’t mention it,” he muttered. But despite his curiosity with Jarvis’ interruption he was still shaken. Bruce never “changed” like that, and Steve never saw anything similar to it. He’d have to ask Bruce about it later.

He draped his body over Bruce’s shoulders, covering him like a warm, heavy cloak. He’d done this before after a few of Bruce’s unscheduled Hulk-outs. The effect grounded Bruce and he told Steve it made him feel comforted and safe. Steve knew Bruce needed that grounding now, though he hadn’t asked for it.

"Thank you," Bruce whispered, and he leaned into Steve's heavy arms.

Fortunately Jarvis knew well enough to wait until they’d settled. "I was instructed to preface this recording," he began. "It will be alarming, but it is not a prank. I've also been instructed to freely answer any additional questions, although I am more interested in what the video has to say."

“You didn't review it?"

Steve swore the AI huffed at them, despite not having the capacity. "I was instructed not to."

"By who?"

A video began playing.

" By me ," the person on the video said. He was smiling.

And he.

Looked. 

Exactly. 

Like. 

Bruce.

Chapter Text

Bruce ran a hand across the projection, swiping through a 3D image of--himself...? before normalizing the settings to a mentally manageable, 2D flatscreen. His hands shook as he stared. ‘He’ fiddled around the desk, moving and typing and smirking. He chuckled to himself. He hummed a tune Bruce hadn’t heard since childhood. And all that movement allowed the horrifying revelation that couldn’t possibly be true, to sink in.

The projection was him.

"Why’d you record yourself?"

Bruce jumped at the voice by his ear. “Goddammit--!”

“Sorry. C’mere.” 

Swaddling Bruce, Steve covered him like a weighted blanket, getting him to slowly sink into his chest. Steve’s scent, his innocence, was grounding. But a haze was playing a dangerous game at the periphery of his mind, fogging his consciousness, dragging him down into a watery hell like a siren’s song. And Steve swayed him in his arms, which didn’t help; the movement tugged Bruce down deep, making it harder to think. 

Steve sighed. “You don’t remember.” He said it flatly, as if Bruce should’ve known, or should’ve told him about it. But...he didn’t.

"It...it can’t be me. I didn’t record anything last night." Bruce couldn't take his eyes off the doppelganger. The twin used his chair, examined his nails, and played with his keyboard. All things Bruce would’ve done, but it couldn’t be him, no way.

Could it--?

Bruce shrugged off Steve’s arm and stopped the other man’s hugs from numbing him. Bruce wished he could wallow in Steve’s warmth but he couldn’t. Not now. "Jarvis, what's the timestamp on this recording?"

"04:32 AM, early this morning."

"After Tony put me to bed?"

"Yes. And not more than seven minutes after he left for his flight to Korea."

Bruce traded a glance with Steve and watched as Steve's expression hardened, eyes flickering between Bruce and the screen. 

“Jarvis, could we be dealing with an intruder? Could someone have gotten into the house without us knowing?”

“I would have known, Sirs,” Jarvis said, and he sounded positively indignant. “I have several backups that allow my systems to know if someone tampered with my programming, and I can assure you nothing is amiss.”

Frowning, Bruce ran a shaky hand beneath his chin. "Maybe I was sleepwalking."

"You weren't sleepwalking, Banner," the twin suddenly murmured from the screen. Bruce gulped and almost hyperventilated as he clumsily tumbled into his chair. 

“Easy there, Big Guy,” Steve whispered. He gave Bruce’s shoulder a quick squeeze while helping him settle down, before his cold, stony expression turned to the screen. "Nope, that’s not creepy at all. Jarvis, is this live, or a recording?” 

“It’s a recording, sirs.”

Steve rounded on Bruce. “Can you be sure it’s not you?”

Surprised by Steve’s intensity, Bruce’s words dried up in his parched throat. It took a few moments of nervous swallowing and his tongue stuck like Velcro, but he at last found his words. “I...It’s not,” he creaked. He grasped at the screen, hands flailing before suddenly thudding into his lap. “But I’m not sure of anything anymore. I...I don’t. I don’t know.” He stared at his trembling fists, waiting for something. Anything. And fortunately, though it seemed entirely too long in his opinion, Steve grabbed his hand. 

"Then let’s break it down.” He absently rubbed Bruce’s knuckles while squinting at Bruce’s doppelganger, watching it do the things Bruce normally did. The projection coughed, used the keyboard to type a few things, and sat back in the chair far enough that it squeaked. “If this isn't you, then who is it?” 

“No idea, but I’ll do you one better. How in the hell did he know what I was going to say?” 

The not-Bruce cleared his throat. "I’m an expert at gauging your response times, you know.” Bruce’s face fell and an abnormal chill marched down his back. Meanwhile, his facsimile blew on it’s fingertips, staring at them like they were the most interesting fingers in the world.

“The fright of viewing 'yourself' at this point should be wearing off, so you must be insanely curious. It's shocking, but it shouldn't be a huge surprise. You've known, Banner; you've refused to acknowledge me, but you've always known."

"Oh, hell no," Bruce whimpered. Something clobbered his consciousness. But Steve gently grasped his chin, waiting for him to focus. 

“Hey. Look at me. You with me?” 

“Y-yeah.” As much as the screen hypnotized him, Bruce forced himself to stare into Steve’s calming eyes, and his smile was like a raft he could crawl to, above the waters covering his head. 

“There you are,” Steve murmured. He gently stroked Bruce’s cheek and Bruce felt his heart beating in tandem to Steve’s touch. “Listen. Whatever this is, we’re in it together, okay? That,” he said, stabbing a finger at the screen, “that’s not you. Whoever that is, I know it’s not Doctor Bruce Banner. It’s a...someone--no, a something else. And it’s messin’ with us. But it’s not you. Got it?”

“I guess?” Bruce sounded so plaintive - like the five-year-old his father--

don’t--

...no. He felt safe. Steve wouldn’t lie to him. Steve would never do that.

“You’re you, Bruce.” 

Steve paused the video. Neither of them had any idea of what was coming next. His mind began melting and swirling at the possibility, the implication of it--

“Muffin, hey. Look at me again.” The wrinkles on Steve’s brow weren’t normal. Why was he so worried? “Trust me?” Bruce nodded and Steve pulled him from his chair and hugged him tight.  “It’ll be okay. But for whatever reason, this guy wants us to keep watching him. So can we take it off pause? I’m here. I can catch you.”

“I know.” But Bruce’s voice sounded far, far away.

The voice started again. And it was pleasant, almost. Like swirling in a tub of warm water.

"Shh, shhhh, don't drown in the madness, Banner ," the not-Bruce murmured. "It's not difficult. Remember our favorite quote from childhood: 'when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' "

But that. That was a fatal flaw.

"Jarvis, pause!" Bruce flailed, accidentally knocking Steve back. "I’m sorry, I’m--"

"Bruce, babe, don’t sweat it, but let’s talk about what’s goin’ on in your brain, ok?” Steve wrapped him up as Bruce struggled against the warmth. 

"No. I...I can’t." Bruce shook his head and pulled away. 

“C’mon, don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not, Steve.”

“Dammit, Bruce, tell me the truth--”

 “Steve, stop. I promise, I’ll tell you soon. Just...give me some fucking space.”

Steve’s frustration was palatable but Bruce slammed his eyes shut, held up a hand, and ended the discussion. He didn’t explain and for the time being Steve let the protests die while Bruce stumbled around in his mind. He prodded “their” Space like a tongue seeking a cavity. Cautiously he tapped, mentally feeling for Hulk’s “gate” but...was it there? Was it gone? It was too open--

[Long time, no see, Banner.]

Bruce's eyes flew open and he collapsed to the floor.

"Oh, hell-- Bruce--!"

Steve was saying something, telling him to take deep breaths or some shit but Bruce couldn't hear him. Was there time to tell him? Really, what was time? An idea, a construct. Beats of measurement on a musical scale...he stuffed down the nervous giggle threatening to bubble from his chest. He didn't understand, he couldn’t grasp--

[Oh do stop lying, you know full well who I am. Good god, Banner, you're almost as dramatic as Tony.]

Bruce shook his head again but what...was true? What was happening now--? No...no. He had knowledge, and knowledge was truth and power.

[I can help you.]

"S-stop talking," he said out loud, and Steve's hand stilled across his back.

“I’ve only been hugging you.”

 "No, I mean--I meant...ah, fuck."

Bruce took deep, meditative breaths that he normally reserved for his asanas. His floating senses slowly returned: sight. Taste. Smell. Sound. "Steve," he began, when it felt safe enough. "You need...to know something. I hate explaining and I don't like it...but. It makes sense. Of course it makes sense now."

"To you, maybe. I feel like I fell out of a Stupid tree, and hit every branch on the way down.”

Bruce laughed nervously and gently squeezed Steve's hand. "Hold me, okay?" He softly kissed Steve’s cheek. "Hold me tight, and be patient. This is going to be a lot to take in, and I haven’t spoken about it in decades." The light bulb went on and he shuddered against Steve's chest. "And now I get why Tony...” He bit his lip. “I understand why Tony left."

"You wanna enlighten me, then?"

Bruce snorted, nestling into Steve’s warm shoulder. "Okay...okay."

**

At age three, the abuse began because Brian Banner was a Tier One asshole who stole Bruce's life. Well, that's not fair. The circumstance created a second life, and Bruce added another. Three lives now, if the current scenario could be believed. He'd never really openly spoke about the other parts but now was the time. He'd run out of excuses.

"But I never told either of you, that Brian’s abuse wasn't entirely physical," Bruce whispered. Steve's lashes were moist and Bruce could hear his boyfriend's heart solid, steady, and strong, beating like a kettle drum. "I don't talk about it, because..." Bruce sighed. He could do this. "I didn't tell Mom. I wish I had. We might've left earlier if she--"

"I'm not going away," Steve reiterated. He could feel Steve's lips scrape through his curls, feel his warm cheek transferring warmth to his own. "I love you. That won't ever stop. No matter what."

"Brian..." Bruce’s voice shuddered. "Brian was fond of using objects, to see how I responded. To test my 'humanity.' But I was, I...I w-wasn't even five and some days I couldn't sit because of what he did. It was easier to disappear. Someone Else could take the abuse I couldn't handle."

Steve's hand stopped its administrations and Bruce closed his eyes. He knew it was all part of his abusive past but he couldn't help feeling he’d disappointed Steve. His head knew it wasn't true, but his heart...

"I'm sorry," Steve murmured. Bruce wasn't sure, the small hitch and shuddered breath from Steve explained why his scalp felt wet. "I'm so, so sorry, Bruce."

Bruce squeezed Steve's arm. "It's okay," he said, but it wasn't. After all these years it still wasn't. Would never be okay. It was why he would never be whole. Or complete. Just separate, hurting pieces trying their hardest to exist.

[Now you just sound pathetic, Banner. I can Front, if you're unwilling.]

[Oh, no you don’t. You're not the Core. I am.]

His response surprised them both, and...Professor (yes, that name felt right; he could "hear" the confirmation of the title, sibilants or no) slunk back to the quieter sections of his head.

[We are...us. I get it. But from now on, no more hiding. We have to work together.]

He felt something new churn in his mind, earthy and feather light. Like a gentle breeze with hints of petrichor. 

Laughter. Professor’s laugh.

[So be it.] 

[Please follow my lead.]

Bruce tapped Steve's arm. "C'mon," he whispered. "I'll be okay. It's something that happened to me. It's horrible. It makes me sick to my stomach. And," he sighed, gesturing to his head. "It split my psyche. I think in ‘multiples.’ " He tapped his head. "Different people have my address, if that makes sense."

Steve kissed his head. "It doesn’t, but I love you anyway. More than ever, maybe. You're the strongest man I know, Bruce Banner. Not because of the Hulk. Despite Hulk."

"Hmm," Bruce muttered. “Or Professor.”

“Who?”

Sighing, Bruce settled into Steve's arms and explained the curiousness of Dissociative Identity Disorder and how it worked for (against?) him, and how he functioned in the System as the Core. But also how another part - Professor - had begun scheming behind the scenes.

"So this DID, is...Professor?" 

Bruce shrugged. It wasn’t correct, but if it helped Steve understand for now then so be it. “In part, yes.”

Steve was still a bit confused as Bruce squeezed his arm. "I'm not sure I follow. How does this explain Tony leaving?"

Bruce smiled sadly, curling the edges of his lips. "I...may have scared Tony. Or rather ‘Professor' did." 

"You think so?"

Bruce licked his lips. "Pretty sure, yeah. You saw how I reacted to him, right? Imagine if you were in Tony's shoes, seeing this guy for the first time. When I didn't even know he was there."

Steve got quiet as Bruce lumbered to his feet. "Speaking of...we need to finish the video." Searching his mind for Professor, he only felt a tickle. 

[Scared? Care to share with the class, Professor?]

Silence.

[Nothing--?]

Bruce was angry, but not surprised. He huffed quietly and held his hand to Steve. "I’m not sure what to expect next but I'd appreciate your support."

"You know you have it. You've always had it, Muffin." Steve grabbed his hand and Bruce yanked him to his feet. "Any suspicions with this new revelation?"

Shaking his head, Bruce slowly approached the video screen. Professor was in stasis, staring at his hands as if he knew what would happen next. This was a chess master, Bruce realized, someone in for the long haul. Maybe Professor was as neutral as he claimed but he was damn good at pulling strings Bruce didn't know about. And that made this Person particularly dangerous.

"All right, Jarvis," Bruce sighed. He remained standing while Steve cuddled him close. Steve practically smothered him, but he needed it. He needed to feel warm and real. Like the Velveteen Rabbit.

"Go ahead. Start it up again. Let's see what he has to say for himself."

Funny enough, even though the video began playing there was still a good thirty second pause. Bruce watched "himself" rock back and forth in his chair, smile slyly to himself, and then root around in his drawers for something.

Bruce's lip curled in a small, self-righteous smirk. "Interesting."

"What is?"

"I'll tell you later, Steve. Keep watching; I want your honest perspective. If anything seems weird or off--" he made a face. "Well. More so than usual. Note it. I don't want you to tell me yet, but keep it in your head. I might need it later."

He could feel Steve fidgeting behind him but explaining would take too long.

[Your timing was off, wasn’t it? You expected me to pause it longer than thirty seconds. You missed.]

He definitely “heard” a scoffing snort in his brain. [I'm not omnipotent.]

[Fair enough.] 

So far, so good. That bit of knowledge meant Professor didn't hold every card.

"Hey, I was saving that," Bruce grumbled when Professor produced a large cookie tin from Bruce's desk. It was filled with tasty lemon bars that Bruce planned on eating after dinner, but Professor wiggled his grimy, sausagey fingers in the tin and chowed down on the tasty treats.

"Mm," Professor finally said. He grabbed a napkin and dabbed his lips before swallowing. "These are delicious, Banner. Absolutely heavenly. Sweet and sour treats are my favorite, by the way. Please eat more of them, whenever you're able." He ate three or four lemon bars before finding some hand sanitizer and wiping his fingers clean.

"I imagine you're available for our conversation now. It's technically one-way. But I can tell you everything you need to know. In fact, I'll explain it quite easily to you, and the good Captain."

"So he expected I’d be here too.” Steve growled. “But I still see him for the bully he is. No offense, Bruce, but your Person is a grade-A ass."

"None taken." Bruce “heard” Professor huff again deep inside but fortunately kept quiet in Bruce's mind. [Steve's right.]

Silence.

Hmm. Had he gotten on Professor’s nerves? Interesting...but Bruce didn’t have time to analyze it. Too distracting, and they still had the rest of the video to watch. 

Professor rose to his feet and slowly paced. The camera panned his movements as he commanded the lab area, like a...well. A Professor.

"One," he stated. "You know I am real. I typically stay out of things unless it’s warranted, but yes. You are correct. I've influenced some of your behavior in the past, and present. Possibly your future."

"Ass," Steve repeated.

Bruce shushed him.

"Two,” Professor continued, holding his fingers like a peace sign.  “Hulk and I can work in tandem, but I usually let him do whatever he wants. I'm not his babysitter. I can influence him easily, though. He's such a child."

Bruce's expression hardened. Then how many people have you killed, how many families destroyed in my name, Professor? Bruce’s darker thoughts were in a place separate from his alters. They still had doors in his mind, doors none could cross into unless allowed, and Bruce often kept his thoughts private. If you're the Hulk's gatekeeper, was all the killing and destruction in the name of your fucked-up science?

Professor grinned and glared at the camera, almost winking at it, and Bruce's lips thinned. The answer was clear as day. Professor had done things. And as the Core, Bruce had paid the price. "Robbing Peter to pay Paul," Bruce spat. He felt Steve's hug but he wasn't sure if Steve really understood what Professor had done. Tony probably did. Which meant they had a lot to discuss when he returned.

"Three," Professor said, his back to the camera. He held up three chubby fingers and pulled up another video screen on Bruce's desk. "I tampered with the gainer formula so it would be most effective. Jarvis? Zoom in if you would. Let Banner take a good, hard look at it."

Bruce hated being manipulated and playing into Professor's hands, but of course he was curious. "2-DG," He said, scanning the list. "Desipramine. Amitriptyline, escitalopram oxalate." Yes. He knew those drugs were in it, they weren't anything new.

Except...what was that scrawl--?

Bruce sucked sharply between his teeth. "Zolpidem... and thioridazine? Both of them...? Mother f-- !”

Professor tutted and wagged his finger at the camera, as if he knew exactly what Bruce would say. "Swearing is such a nasty habit. Please refrain from doing so."

"Pause it, Jarvis."

Steve was the one who stopped the video, and Bruce glared at him over his shoulder. Steve’s expression was hooded and stoic, but the love in his eyes was genuine. "You're on sedatives for your anxiety, aren't you?"

Bruce let out a long, slow breath. "Tranxene," he murmured. He took off his glasses and vigorously polished the lenses with his lab coat sleeve. "Pretty high dosage, actually. Higher than the average person can afford to take." He pursed his lips and shoved his glasses back on his face. "And that's part of the problem."

"All those chemicals you read out," Steve said. He tenderly massaged Bruce's shoulder. "Do some of them interact with the tranxene?"

"Yes," Bruce said, huffing heavily. "In the wrong amounts they'd kill an average person. The gainer shake could kill Tony if he drank more than four ounces of it. You'd be okay," He said, nudging Steve's arm. "Probably drunk as a skunk, but you'd be okay. But all that, with zolpidem...?" Bruce grunted and sat down. "Zolpidem includes a few powerful side effects, including sleepwalking. And in some cases, sleep eating."

Steve snorted, laughing a little in between. "Which explains why you got the night munchies."

"Yeah." He turned with a full-on scowl. "But the addition of thioridazine makes it a huge issue. Thioridazine is a phenothiazine, and it’s normally used for people suffering from schizophrenic episodes. With the doses I’m ingesting, it could...really fuck me up." 

Bruce absently scrubbed his face. He had a lot of questions. So. Many. Questions. But he'd have to find the time to ask the Others, away from Steve or Tony. They didn’t need to be unnecessarily scared.  "My balance between Hulk and now Professor,” Bruce said, nodding to the screen, “is paramount on my awareness levels. Hulk received the suggestion of the gainer shake from Professor, but only after Professor tampered with the ingredients. In short, the Professor created the shake so our walls would be tenuous, at best. It wasn't to allow the Hulk to binge eat, Steve. I think--"

His lips twisted, and the weird silence in his head confirmed his suspicions as he sighed. "Professor wants more control. He wants to Drive. And he's using Hulk, and my desires for immobility, to do so. If I keep using the shake I'll gain. Definitely. But by doing so it gives Professor an open window to play whenever he wants, by taking over my mind and body while I'm in a drugged, hypnotic state." Bruce stared coldly at the screen. "And I do not trust him."

Steve rolled a hand through his hair. "So it's potentially bad news. Do you have a reason to distrust him? Outside of acting like a jerk, has he really done anything...horrible?"

"Good question," Bruce grunted. "I suspect he might be responsible for some of Hulk's earlier battle rampages. Or even some of the recent ones. But proving it will be...uncomfortably difficult."

"Why?"

Bruce sighed. "Because it means talking to them both. At the same time. And I don't think I'm able to do that without losing the little control I have."

Steve chewed his bottom lip. "Would Professor have anything to gain - pun notwithstanding - now? He's folded. Given up his hand. You didn't know he was around until now, and he could've continued playing you."

"Tony figured it out, Steve.” He tapped the display. “That's the only reason Professor showed his cards."

"Maybe." Steve tapped his chin. "I think you're right, though, Bruce. There's something else here. But I don't think it’s what we think it is. I think it's something different."

"Really?"

Steve shrugged. "Either that, or he's just an ass who gets his kicks from people coming up with conspiracy theories. Could go either way."

"Thanks," Bruce deadpanned. He made a face and finger combed his curls. "We can't keep him on pause forever. He knows I’m watching but he's gotten quiet in my head. I think he's waiting for me to make the next move." Like a chess master. Bruce’s eyes wandered over the screen and keyboard. All of it was, for lack of a better term, a clusterfuck and he wasn't sure how to fix it. 

And he really wanted Tony back.

"We can wait a little while, if you're not up to it."

Bruce rubbed his chubby chin. "Nah. Better to rip off the band-aid, so we can deal with it now. Jarvis," he sighed, "go ahead and play the rest."

There was another uncannily long pause, and Bruce smirked. He needed to use that information, that Professor made mistakes. 

"Got it all out of your system? Good. Yes, you're right; the walls between us are thinner than ever. Unlike," Professor chuckled, "our body. Which is glorious, by the way. Can't wait to see what else you do with it."

"Can't tell if he's being sarcastic, or not," Steve grumbled.

"Shh," Bruce admonished. "Let him finish."

"Anyway, Banner, that's all I wanted to show you. I had to introduce myself properly, after all." His gaze sharpened, and another cold chill ran down Bruce's back. "However, I do miss my science partner. Be careful with him, won't you? Try to bring him back in one piece. And tell him," he said, that same self-satisfied smirk spreading across his lips.  

"Tell him I said 'hi.'"

"That concludes the transmission," Jarvis intoned. "Do you need to review it for future use?"

"Yes," Bruce and Steve said together. Bruce smiled and squeezed Steve's hand. "Also, Jarvis, I'm asking for your help. If any of my...Persons decide to make a recording, wait until I'm 'me.' " He realized how weird that sounded, and rolled his eyes. "I guess I should ask. Jarvis, can you tell the difference between us?"

Jarvis paused a millisecond before answering. "I've analyzed your mannerisms and compared them to Professor, as well as Hulk. I feel I'll have no issues telling the three of you apart, regardless of who is ‘Fronting’."

"Good." Bruce gave Steve a small look over his shoulder, unsure what the man was thinking. It was a lot to take in, he knew. And to be fair, he didn't expect Steve to respond to any of it well. It warmed him that Steve was doing this well. "Do me a favor, Jarvis. Always view me, Hulk, and Professor as three separate individuals. If another Person wants to access my notes, they will need my permission first--or, in a pinch, Tony or Steve if I’m ‘unavailable.’ But no one else. Is that clear?"

"Affirmative," Jarvis said. "On that note, would you like to view the notes and information I've gathered over time, notes the Professor might have added to my server files?"

"Wow.” Professor really was a sneaky bastard. Of course he’d used Jarvis before, and Jarvis probably hadn’t known any better. He shared a look with Steve who looked equally uncomfortable. Maybe he’d talk to Tony about it later, whenever he got back. 

Bruce chewed his lip. "Yes, please, Jarvis. I'll need to look over those documents. I'll need to know if he's been tampering with any of my experiments."

Which would be horrific. What had Professor done? How much damage-- ?

"Muffin," Steve sighed, exasperated. Apparently he’d had enough and Bruce didn’t blame him. He pulled Bruce close to his chest and rubbed circles across his back. "Professor’s made a mess of things, huh?"

Bruce chuckled darkly. "Understatement."

"Thought so. You should take a break, or a bath, and get some food in ya." He grabbed Bruce’s shoulders and softly twirled him so he could pat Bruce’s stomach. To Bruce's surprise his stomach complained. Loudly. "See? You're hungry. Get some snacks from the kitchen and de-stress. We'll worry about this Professor guy when you're more up to it."

"Sure." But Bruce wrung his hands, feeling out of sorts; they didn’t have a lot of time. Whatever Professor was hatching was already in play, and they needed to be ready. Professor had pressed all his triggers while singling out his frustrations and weaknesses. The day had been one big mess from the moment he woke up.  

"No, I can't relax. The thought of what might happen..." He ran a hand down his face. "I dunno. I--"

"None of that. You'll be fine.” Steve kissed his shoulder. “You've been okay to this point, right?" Bruce half-shrugged, but stuck out his lip in a small pout. “No worrying, okay? We'll take care of the rest when it happens. Like you said, Professor tipped his hand and put the target on himself."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Not the best analogy--"

Steve put a finger to Bruce’s lips, stifling his rant. "Eat, Muffin. Then do something to relax. Maybe turn on Netflix, or something. I'll be up to check on ya in a bit."

A small frown marred Bruce's features. "What are you doing?"

"I need to blow off some steam." He shrugged and headed for the door. "It was a weird experience for me, too, and I've gotta wrap my head around it."

"Hmm." Well, he couldn't argue because he agreed, but still. "Don't take forever. I think I’ll need a lot of TLC tonight."

Steve laughed. "You got it. Tonight’s your night."

"Okay. I'm holding you to it," Bruce said, as he followed him out. "You take too long, and I'll come find you. And you said it yourself, you don't want me burning any extra calories."

Steve chuckled. "Forty-five minutes, tops." 

He watched Bruce leave. But Bruce missed the subtle frown tugging at the corners of Steve's lips.