I'm a Goddamn Marvel of Modern Science
Bruce is preparing popcorn – okay, he’s putting it in the microwave – when he hears the thud of something blunt in the makeshift viewing room. Well, so much for having time to himself while the others are away on personal errands, meetings, etc. Now he has to ‘Hulk-out’ and destroy his favourite area because some asshole decided to drop in uninvited.
Unless it’s Tony in his suit; he’s still an asshole. But just in case—
Bruce creeps out of the kitchen and into the open space, peering around. “Hello?” Good job, just tell your enemy you’re not green and angry, and you don’t know where they are.
“Dr. Banner,” comes a sultry voice from behind Bruce. It very nearly startles the Hulk out, but luckily the sound of popcorn clinking into a bowl distracts him. “It was quite close to burning, so I took the liberty of stopping it for you.”
The first question that Bruce means to ask is ‘Loki, why the fuck are you here?’ but instead, what comes out is: “How do you know about microwave popcorn?”
“Your mighty Captain taught me about it a few weeks ago. I believe your bird with the vulgar tongue taught him.” Loki smirks, taking a few in hand and munching on them delicately. “Perfectly cooked. No thanks needed, doctor.” He waits, holding the bowl out for Bruce, a grin growing slowly on his lips.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ is still what Bruce should be saying, and yet, “Bruce, please. I don’t like being referred to as something I’m not.”
And since when does Captain spend time with the God of Mischief? There’s going to be a long discussion when he gets back; leader or not, that’s not something you hide from your teammates.
Loki seems to be amused by the Hulk’s lack of appearance as he walks closer, and nudges the bowl into Bruce’s chest. It’s as close to a peace offering Bruce is going to get. Fine, then he can be civil with a murderer, too, if Steve Rogers – the perfect super soldier and fearless leader that he is – can find it in himself to trust Loki. On occasion.
“Bruce, I believe you were about to watch a film, yes? May I ask what it is?” Loki tilts his head, leaning an arm on his staff nonchalantly, a strange twinkle in his eye. Almost like genuine interest, curiosity.
“A classic,” Bruce says, walking over to sit on the couch. He is one of the only people unafraid to turn his back on the Jotunheim-born man; Hulk literally has Bruce’s back. “So, wait, you’re telling me you’ve watched movies, too?”
Loki hums, a hint of condescension in the soft noise, and it makes Bruce’s skin prickle with annoyance. Too bad Hulk doesn’t feel the need to show-up when Bruce is mildly irritated.
“Darling Steve is a very thorough educator when it comes to Midgard. For both our sakes,” Loki replies, sitting down almost too primly to be taken seriously. His magical staff disappears out of existence, and Bruce harbours the information away for the next time they encounter each other as enemies.
“Do I want to know how often you see Steve?” Bruce is bothered by the thought of how long Steve’s been friendly with the Trickster; he can’t enjoy the movie if that isn’t out of the way first.
“Whenever the mood strikes,” Loki responds, his eyes flickering away to the television screen, his hands neatly folded on his lap. “Can we begin the film now?”
Loki seems a lot more comfortable with the idea of sharing popcorn and space with the man who injured him most critically mere months ago. And why has it taken Bruce this long to realize Loki is in civilian clothes? He’s just wearing a clean, dark pair of slacks and a navy blue sweater; nothing very mischievous about his attire. But somehow, Loki could still be threatening even if he were naked. Probably.
“Do you even care what it is?” Bruce asks, trying to hide the building irritation of having to spend time with someone even when the entire Avengers team is off somewhere.
“You said it was a classic, therefore I trust your judgment.” Loki reaches over into Bruce’s lap, grabbing a handful of popcorn and eating them one at a time. “Shall we then?”
Bruce grunts but clicks the entertainment system on, placing the remote on the couch between them once he’s skipped over the previews.
One flew over the cuckoo’s nest
Settling in against the couch, Bruce allows his mind to drift into the wonderful world of cinema, ignoring the very fact that anyone else – let alone a madman – is sharing the viewing of this masterpiece with him. The only time Bruce has to acknowledge Loki’s presence is when he leans over for more popcorn, and sometimes drops some between them when he’s too engrossed in the film.
Eventually, Loki is just as mesmerized by Jack Nicholson’s performance as the rest of the world most definitely was, and he scoots over on the couch, making the remote disappear (to the same place as his staff?) so he can have better access to the popcorn. Bruce mentally kicks himself for finding that charming in any way.
Their fingers touch at times in the bowl, but neither man reacts, preferring to concentrate on the mental patients on-screen instead. It isn’t considered a classic for nothing.
Suddenly there’s no more popcorn, and Loki pulls his fingers out of the bowl like he’s been personally insulted by this turn of events. He looks over at Bruce, a crease between his brow, and Bruce can’t help but laugh. He’s almost like a petulant child telling his ‘caregiver’ to make more – but without using actual words.
“The movie’s almost over,” Bruce murmurs, not wanting to drown out the characters’ voices.
“Is that so?” Loki grins, taking the bowl away and putting it on the glass table across from the sofa. He shifts closer, keeping his eyes on the screen, but his arm and leg purposely brush against the kind doctor.
Bruce huffs a laugh, considers moving away, but there’s really nowhere he wants to go right now. The movie is great, the snack was good, and the company is increasingly welcome. No wonder Steve’s been hanging out with Loki so much; it’s like you can’t stop once you start.
Loki turns his head, his eyes still on the screen, but the breath of each word hits the side of Bruce’s face. “What shall we do after?”
Bruce should be scared, right? This could be a challenge, an announcement of an upcoming fight, a battle – or something else altogether with the same type of rules but less clothing. But Bruce isn’t scared, he’s nervous, he’s excited. And that just goes to show how wonderful of a manipulator Loki is, really. Bruce should probably be mad right about now, yeah? There are many things out of his control at the moment, and luckily none of them are anger-inducing.
“We could watch another classic?” Bruce offers, trying to keep his ‘guest’ away from the earlier thoughts.
“Or we could not.” Loki grins, facing Bruce, breathing directly on his cheekbones. “Not that I’m into non-consensual things so, what would you like to do?”
Bruce is close, very close to just running upstairs to his room and ripping off all his clothes – not due to turning green for once – because Loki’s green eyes are starting to make his knees weak and he’s not even standing. This has to be magic, some trick, some endeavour of Loki’s to create a rift in the Avengers.
“I don’t think—” But Bruce’s mind is screaming protests, most of all the Hulk-part of it; he wants to get into Loki’s pants and break him apart gently for all the chaos he’s dropped on the world. That’s not something Bruce supports so much, though.
“Can you not?” Loki sighs, a frown slowly shifting onto his features.
“Not what?” Bruce asks, turning finally and, Jesus Christ, the full blown view of pale skin, dark, green eyes and even darker hair makes the air stutter out of Bruce’s lungs.
“Can you not think for once.” Loki grins, draping his leg in Bruce’s lap. “Although that is the main reason I find you so fascinating.”
Bruce heaves in a breath when Loki moves his leg just enough to press against the bulge – really body? You couldn’t wait for consent? – in Bruce’s pants. “You find me fascinating?”
Loki huffs and leans forward, the words ghosting out and over Bruce’s parted lips, “Only if you let me.”
Looking down at Loki’s lips before answering, perhaps, isn’t the best idea. Loki climbs the rest of the way onto Bruce’s lap, straddling him, and completely ignoring the film they were previously enjoying. Not that there was more than five minutes of it left, mind you.
Loki’s fingers curl at the back of Bruce’s neck, yanking his head far enough to taste at each inch of soft skin on Bruce’s neck. Bruce means to clear his throat, but his eyes lower instead, and the sound that escapes is a loud grunt.
“Enjoying it are we?” Loki murmurs, biting down on the sensitive flesh. His eyes dart up, the greens darkening with every moment that Bruce doesn’t pull away, doesn’t escape, doesn’t change into that chaotic monster who’d want nothing more than to dismember Loki.
Bruce manages a nod, and Loki’s eyes flicker with undeniable hunger. “Prove it, doctor.”
Pushing Loki away, grabbing his wrists and pinning him against the floor with his weight is what Bruce decides on as his response to the taunt. Hulk isn’t the only one who can get a little…rough.