1. Chapter 1

It was shawarma first, because that was what Tony wanted and God forbid anyone get in the way of Tony Stark on a mission.

Tony had thrown a pair of pants and a shirt at Bruce when he woke up from his green haze, sprawled out naked on a carpet that was so shag it was probably a dead animal (the pants were, as usual, a total loss even if they had stayed mostly on during the fighting), but that was as far as he was willing to go in letting anyone change clothes. Apparently Loki had been locked up while Bruce was passed out from transitioning back, and all Stark had left to do was go for shawarma. Like a spastic nanny, he hustled the Avengers down to the service elevator, which Jarvis assured them was still functional and safe, and they all went out to eat.

It was surreal.

Bruce had no context for the experience, and had to hold back from breaking out into hysterical laughter throughout the meal. Steve fell asleep with his chin in one hand, Natasha ate Hawkeye’s fries, Thor ate all of Steve’s food, and somehow Stark managed to look like he was sitting at the head of a table that was round. It was a bonding experience, and Bruce did not know how to process that.

Usually when he woke up naked after an “episode” he was up and on his feet running, stealing clothes and begging food.

SHIELD picked up Natasha and Hawkeye outside of the restaurant. Thor basically told everyone to piss off (only in a really nice, polite and flowery way) because he was flying out to see his girlfriend, and Steve offered to go with the SHEILD agents in order to report personally to Director Fury. Bruce was fine with that, he was not anxious to go head to head with Fury again anytime soon.

“So where you going?” Stark stood on the sidewalk, looking almost normal in his jeans and tee shirt, amidst the still drifting dust of destruction and death floating around them.

Bruce stopped at the question. He had no idea. There was no place for him to go other than SHIELD, which was the last place he wanted to be.

Stark must have read it on his face, because he waved a hand for Bruce to follow him and walked off.

Bruce was not entirely sure how he ended up back in the Stark penthouse again, but he had to admit he wasn’t surprised. “You don’t have to.”

“Don’t have to what? This way, here, here.” Tony pulled and pointed and directed Bruce through the place to a bedroom. Bruce was dead on his feet, the come-down from the Other Guy’s appearance finally catching up with him. He assumed it was due to the food coma…he had eaten three plates of shawarma.

“Don’t have to put me up.”

“Whatever, here. Sit. Shoes! No no no, don’t hand them to me, throw them over there. Pants. Are you shy? Really? Because I saw it all hanging out in the living room. You were fetching, all laid out on the shag carpet like a pin up. A very academic looking pinup, you should have had your glasses, and maybe a book. Wait, shirt, okay, yes, there you go, down you go, good boy—”

Bruce wanted to complain that he was hardly a boy but his impending unconsciousness held him back. He fell asleep to the oddly comforting patter of Stark talking to himself.