Acceptance

Please read the accompanying authors note if you care: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/48885-authors-note-for-acceptance-a-science-boyfriends-story/

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STORY

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Anthony had always regretted all the things that had come between Bruce and himself over the years. They had been best friends, as often as not, in both the timelines -both his sets of memories- that he could recall, but there were some things that had happened for which he was sure Bruce had not forgiven him. His greatest regret having been to help try to send Bruce to his own planet. He had done it thinking that it would be what was honestly best for his friend, being out of the reach of the government and military, and having his own planet with no one sentient to accidentally hurt and feel guilty over. He would not, of course choose to deprive Bruce of any of the positive experiences that had ended up resulting from that plan having gone horribly astray, but he did wish things had turned out differently. He also wished he could make Bruce understand that he was sad to see him go, not trying to get rid of him. His regret was so great that it, he supposed, was how he had ended up in his current predicament.



He had, somewhat stupidly, thrown himself into a field of energy to prevent it from gaining power and being directed at Bruce. As Bruce was currently large and green, it would not have hurt him, really, but it was intended to do something to his mind, not his body, and Anthony had been certain that between his suit, and the attack not being meant for him, that he himself would be immune to it. What he had not taken long enough to consider, however, was that the shock would disable his suit and hurt like hell; possibly causing a lot of damage to his body through the suit’s interface. Falling and hitting the ground had barely registered to his nerves over the other pain. His ears were ringing. He could not tell if he was unable to see, or if it was just that dark inside his dead suit. The arc reactor, thankfully, was still humming lightly, but he was hardly conscious and not certain at all that he could move, or if he should try to. Crashing sounds came to him somewhat muted by the suit and his -hopefully temporary- hearing loss, and voices, though he could not be bothered to figure out what they were saying. Something smelled like melting plastic, and the taste in his mouth was dry, bitter and a little metallic. He could tell he had burns, because he could smell those too. He tried not to gag on the smell, nor loose consciousness, since he was stuck on his back.



The sounds died down and he was surprised to feel himself be roughly lifted. Whatever was holding him was obviously large and strong. Nerves went into insane fluttering in his chest, his chest muscles contacting feebly on everything, even the hard metal sides of the core, as he wondered whether it was friend or foe; and whether or not that would have any bearing on whether he was in danger. He did not even know if he was already done for, and would not until he got to a hospital or his lab. Judging by the way he swung, almost leisurely, over something large and that seemed to be walking, he guessed he was safe for the moment. The metal of his suit was cracked and dented in in places. He could feel that now. Being as the suit was practically skin tight, that meant his flesh was being pinched in places, being deeply bruised already, also open and bleeding in others.



After he had almost lost consciousness countless times, he was surprise again to feel himself be let down, unceremoniously, before he heard more shuffling. The sound of metal tearing was loud in his ears as a large hand peeled the metal visor off his suit. His worry faded into relief when he saw a large green face staring back at him, then back into worry as he saw that the face looked angry, and not concerned. The eyes, though blurry, he could see narrow at him, and then the face was gone, revealing that he was in one of his labs. He heard more shuffling, some things being bumped into and a sound that would have sounded like inhuman keening, except that he knew the voice to belong to a human, and friend. Next, after long moments of near silence, he heard quiet foot steps leading away from him and towards the door.



“Don‘t go.” Anthony managed to choke out.



The footsteps stopped.



“After everything, you…” Bruce did not have to figure out which things exactly to yell at Anthony for, this time, because he was cut off.



“I’m not asking you to stay with me. I’m asking you to take what you need, from here. Use the shower. I know you heal on your own, but take what you want. I have food. I have beds. Leave me here if you want, but don’t leave yet. You‘ll be safe here for a while.” Anthony pleaded with him firmly, not wanting to lose this chance to talk to him, nor to think he would immediately disappear into the hostile world again.



It registered in Anthony’s mind that the voice he was hearing was of his friend having changed back to his more unassuming self, which was something he had not expected.



“Safe…” He heard Bruce respond, and it sounded like contempt.



Bruce stepped back to look at him. He held his hard look, but his resolve was melting away. Anthony was only in this pathetic state because he had tried to save him, and he was worried. He did not know either, if Anthony would be okay. He tried to tell himself that he did not care, that he should leave, but he knew that was not what was making him so desperately want to get away. Anthony was in bad shape, and sharp reminder of how fragile he was, soft and bleeding inside his hard shell. The sight was repelling to him, but it made him want to stay and help him, and that was worse. Anthony saving him, practically begging him to stay. It made him question whether or not he was right in having come to believe that Anthony no longer cared about him, and he did not want to deal with any of that at the moment. All he could smell was his one-time friend’s blood. He sighed heavily to himself, even berating himself for his own lack of resolve, but approached Anthony and started tending to him. He cut uncaringly through the suit, though he was careful not to add to Anthony’s injuries. He did not care about the property damage, even looking at him a few times while cutting, to watch the billionaire’s dismay at the wasted technology.



Anthony watched him work, taking care of him in the most vindictive seeming way possible, though he did seem to be being careful not to hurt him more. When the armour was gone, he was checked over visually, before being moved over to a scanning machine. The machine was not normally used for medical purposes, but it was serviceable, and preferable to going to a hospital.



“How’s it looking doc?” Anthony asked weakly from the table, his voice still struggling.



“You’ve fractured a few things. There‘s heavy bruising, some blood loss. I think you‘ll live, but I‘m not sure about the nerve damage yet.” Bruce answered, more anger draining out of him, quelled by a sort of guilt, that Anthony was so injured, and knowing how he had sustained those injuries.



“You want me to wiggle my toes?” Anthony offered, as an attempt at humour in the tense atmosphere.



Bruce nodded to his feet but said nothing, so Anthony gave his toes a feeble looking little wiggle, and was relieved to see they did move. It meant his nerves and spine could not be too badly damaged, and were not cut off at any point. Bruce continued checking him over, and finally cleaning some of the wounds with a bottle of scotch that just so happened to be handy, hiding in one of Anthony’s desk drawers. He would have questioned how Bruce knew to look for it, but did not bother. Instead, he asked him a question.



“So, you staying? Even if you just want to get cleaned up, stay the night. You don’t have to leave… It could be like it was.” Anthony offered in his injured voice, being quite certain at this point that his throat was badly bruised.



These words were a slap to Bruce, who had been through lifetimes since that strange seeming past; the last time he had stayed with Anthony, so many years ago. He did remember how much he had enjoyed it, how close they had gotten, which was why he was so insulted by it now.



“You mean before you betrayed me.” His tone was that of anger being bitten back by patience, as he pressed a bit too hard on a cut, making Anthony jump and gasp.



“Bruce… please, just listen.” Anthony was suddenly sincere and quiet.



“We only sent you away because we thought it would be best for you. You wouldn’t be hunted anymore. You’d have your own planet, no one in your way, to feel guilty over accidentally hurting. No one to hurt you. I knew you weren’t happy here, with us. I mean, you tried to end it, a couple times, I thought it was what you wanted, to get away from this entire world, away from... I was, we were, supposed to be able to watch you, make sure you were okay, but then the shuttle went haywire and disappeared, and I thought… I thought I’d lost you. I didn’t know where you were or what happened to you, and now…” He trailed off, mostly because now was the same, almost never knowing where he was or if he was okay, still worried he had lost him.



Seeing Anthony be this emotional, hearing the pain and guilt in his voice, was disquieting. It was as unsettling as everything else had been that day, and equally repelling for the very same reasons. Anthony was hurt, for him, and he was neither willing nor ready to be anything but angry with him, still.



“You did.” Bruce said after a moment.



“I’m not the same person anymore. Thanks to everything that happened because of that. Because you sent me away." he went on, sticking little adhesive stitches over one of the cuts on his leg.



The fact that all Anthony did was lay back and look miserable, eyes getting watery, only served to annoy him. It annoyed him because it was pulling the anger out of him through little holes where his heartstrings were. His friend, laying there broken, though recoverable, heartbroken over losing him, having risked his life to save him, and pleading with him to stay, even when Bruce was resolutely upset with him and ready to walk out; even though Bruce was the reason he was hurt and could end up hurting him far worse.



He did not really want to stay, but he also did not want to simply leave him, rejecting his attempted apology. He was not ready to completely burn that bridge, no matter what he told himself. He also did not want to go back to running. He was tired. He had also agreed to help with the new Avengers team, or is alter ego had, and he did need a place to stay where those very things Anthony tried to protect him from would leave him alone. He sighed heavily.



“I’m not the same. Neither of us are, but… I’ll stay." he said reluctantly.



Anthony looked up to watch him pointedly avoid eye contact, for a minute before he could not hold his head up any longer and lay back down. Exhausted, he fell asleep there, finally assured that Bruce would not run off, he no longer felt panicked and could no longer keep his eyes open.