( open ) I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night

[hyperkinesia]

Who: Bruce Banner & YOU
Where: All around the mansion and the grounds
When: During the second half of August
Rating: PG13 for likely mentions of trauma and violence, will update if need be
Summary: Bruce slowly tries to cope with Wonderland, Ultron, Sokovia, and the mutant event. It doesn't always work well.
The Story:

[ Coping is a pretty word. But like a lot of complicated words, it's pretty on paper, with a clean cut description added at the front like a dictionary, explained just right. Here, this means that in the English language, and that's how it all works.

But it's not. Adapting words to reality makes it obvious just how some things can't be described with precision, how fallible language can be. Bruce finds himself at a loss as of late, lost between what he feels and what he thinks, what to do or say in face of the experiences he needs to work through.

By comparison, the mutant event really shouldn't have affected him that much. But then it does, because he was so put-together then, he had principles, a purpose, something he genuinely believed in and was willing to fight for. Now? Now he's back to normal. His normal, messed-up and lost self. Well— slightly better now, but does it make much of a difference? He's still completely out of sorts, and he doesn't mean just in Wonderland. He means in life overall. Like he doesn't entirely belong there, or anywhere.

He tries hard to cope, though. Just a pretty word, but he does. Mostly this means burying himself neck deep into science, work, whatever he can study in this place. When even that gets too frustrating and leads nowhere, he heads out for a walk around the mansion, tries to eat something— loses his appetite after a couple of bites but forces himself to finish anyway. Can't have him getting so hungry he'll lose his handle on himself.

The gardens are pretty but it all seems a little hollow to him, still he'll make his way there, sometimes walking one of the stray dogs currently being looked after by Sam and those who'd shown interest in helping. The beach is, by far, one of his favorite places, considering it's usually more deserted, and he finds himself the quietest and farthest spot to sit by himself, eyes fixed on the horizon.

In the meantime, he keeps an eye for familiar faces. People he knew during the mutant event, people he felt like he'd shaped a bond with. Some of them he does want to get to meet here, and the ones he'd had less than pleasant encounters with he also hopes to find. Even if there's one in particular he's keen on avoiding, but that's something to worry about later. Way later. ]

Comments

for Natasha

[hyperkinesia]

[ It's late in the night. Not too late, but definitely not early. Not the kind of hour one would be knocking at someone else's door— but here he is.

Bruce has spent the past few hours twisting and turning in bed, trying and failing to fall asleep. In fact he feels like he's been spending the past few weeks in that state, only managing to doze off when well and truly exhausted, and that's not a good thing. It's too risky, and he should've worried about that long before now.

The thing is, he doesn't know what to do. Exercises won't help him like they used to, mechanisms he used to follow obsessively to make himself fall asleep no longer produce any result. He's so tired at this point that even his eyes hurt, like the light burns holes through his pupils and straight into his brain.

And he's desperate enough that in a fit of fear and frustration and admitted neediness, he walks down the hallway and stops in front of Natasha's bedroom, in sweatpants and a sweater that look too loose on him, lifting a hand up and knocking on the door. The tapping of knuckles against wood is soft but loud in the dead silence of the hallway. It's like it wakes him up from some sort of hypnotic state, and immediately he regrets being here. Bothering her with his issues.

Once she opens the door, she might see him turning around and getting ready to walk back to his room again. ]

[widows_kiss]

Bruce?

[ Her voice is soft in the quiet hallway, but she catches him before he can flee again. it's late, but she wasn't asleep either. Although she's dressed down for the night, in a pair of tight yoga pants and a too-large tshirt that she practically swims in, her hair slightly mussed and curled about her face.

She steps out, the door open behind her, only a faint glow coming from her room. She searches his face in the dim light, a worried frown on her face. ]

Are you alright? Did you need something?

[hyperkinesia]

[ Her voice is enough to stop him in his tracks, and he turns to look at her again, looking as guilty now as he does tired. He hesitates even more than he usually would, hands holding each other and fingers fidgeting in a nervous tick. ]

Nothing. It's nothing. [ It's not nothing, obviously. Bruce isn't the kind of person to just show up at people's doors unannounced for some small, unimportant reason. ]

Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. I'll, uh... we can talk tomorrow. [ Which is Bruce's code for 'let's not talk about this again'. ]

[widows_kiss]

You didn't wake me, I wasn't asleep yet. [ She cocks her head to the side, taking in the sight of him, noticing all the little ticks and tells he gives away with his posture and fidgets, more than he ever does with his words. ]

Would you like to come in?

[hyperkinesia]

[ He goes from fidgeting to crossing his arms tightly, enough that his shoulders hunch and he practically oozes tension, nearly vibrating through his every muscle and tendon. ]

I don't know if I should. [ Yes, yes I would. He never says what he means, though. Well, almost never. ]

[widows_kiss]

Since when has that ever stopped you?

[ She counters with a smile and steps slightly to the side, making room for him, if that's what he needs. She recognizes that particular hunch to his shoulders, the tense way he holds himself. Her hand lifts, motioning him inside. ]

Come inside, Bruce. I promise I won't bite.

[hyperkinesia]

[ He wants to say 'plenty of times', because it's true, but also it's not, and he knows what she means. His shoulders drop in slight defeat, even if he never came here with too strong a resolve to walk away, and it doesn't take much at all for her to get him to stay.

Wordlessly, he walks past her, sparing her a glance that's almost ashamed before stepping into her room. He scans the area more out of habit than anything, though he doesn't expect much there to surprise him. Finally, he turns to her, and once the door is closed and they have some modicum of privacy, he speaks up, lets it all out before hesitating enough to stop himself. ]

I can't sleep. [ It comes out as a rough exhale, his eyes closing and head dropping. ] It's been going on... God, for a while. Since I got here, I think. The exercises don't work anymore, I just end up passing out when I'm too exhausted to do anything else. I don't— I don't know what to do. This is dangerous and I don't know how to fix it.

[ That's almost laughable. As if there's anything about him that can be fixed. ]

[widows_kiss]

[ She waits as he spills out the words, able to hear the frustration and the hint of desperation lurking in his tone. She knows how that feels, has had her fair share of it as well. She studies him a moment before holding out a hand to him, patient in invitation. ]

Will you let me help?

[hyperkinesia]

[ Predictably, Bruce hesitates, even though it's clear he wants to accept it all, the way she offers her hand to him, the promise of help and some peace.

He's overthinking again. This is what he came here for, isn't it? Comfort, or company, or... whatever it is he still has with Natasha. Eventually, he reaches out, a hand softly curling around hers. ]

Was kind of hoping you would.

[widows_kiss]

[ She's patient, waiting for him to decide, willing to accept what he's comfortable risking either way. When he reaches out to take her hand, she curls her fingers warmly about his, giving a gentle tug towards the couch that stretches before the fireplace against the far wall. There's an empty glass of wine left the coffee table, a book written in Russian, and a soft chenille throw tossed over the back of one cushion, evidence of where she'd been stretched out herself before he swung by. ]

Come on. Have a seat. Would you like some tea or something?

[hyperkinesia]

Tea's fine.

[ It's a reflex answer. Bruce doesn't really feel like having anything, but at least it's something to focus on, something to distract himself with. It likely won't work, but he says it before he even honestly thinks about the question, and he kind of just rolls with it.

Somewhat reluctantly, he lets go of her hand, then sinks into the couch, taking up only a small corner of it near the armrest. ]

[widows_kiss]

[ It's the way he says it that has her suspecting tea's not something he actually wants, but she fetches him something anyway, a brew she uses to help calm her nerves and relax when she needs it. Some nights she needs it more than others.

But tonight, she just brings the mug back over and sets it on the coffee table in front of him while giving him another assessing glance, pondering how best to go about this and what might work for him.

For one, the ball he's curled into in the corner of her couch isn't going to work at all. ]

You're not going to be able to fall asleep like that. I can see how tense you are from here. I'm not going to bite. [ she reminds him with a quirk of her lips, propping her hands on her hips as she eyes him a moment longer. ] Why don't you try stretching out on your stomach on the couch? Maybe I can help with some of the tension.

[hyperkinesia]

[ He takes the mug for a small and non-committed sip, setting the tea back down to let it cool and more than glad to curl back into his earlier position on the couch... except that doesn't seem to play along with Natasha's notion of relaxing. Not that he can argue, because, well. ]

On my stomach? [ He raises an eyebrow, tone teetering on amused. It takes him a few seconds to actually move from where he's sitting, but eventually he shifts around, kicking off his shoes in the process and doing as he's told.

He feels a little silly like this, somewhat exposed too, but he tries to diffuse some of that by throwing a joking remark over his shoulder. ] You're not going to press down on some trigger point on my neck and make me pass out, are you?

[widows_kiss]

[ She waits until he's settled before moving to sink down on her knees beside his hips, perched over him on the edge of the couch. ]

I don't think we need to resort to such extreme measures just yet. We'll save that for Plan B. Emergency backup.

[ She's joking. Probably.

But she does take advantage of his position finally to reach out and slide her hands up his spine, moving up until she reaches his shoulders where she starts to work skillfully at the tension in his muscles. ]

[hyperkinesia]

[ He chuckles softly, closing his eyes as he settles his head on his folded arms. ]

Thanks, that's very comforting.

[ Honestly, he doubts Natasha would do that. Mostly because she's probably as unsure as he is as to whether or not that could go horribly wrong.

Her hands bear down on about half the pressure points along his back in one movement, and Bruce's exhale turns into a sigh when her fingers start working on his shoulders. His words are half a murmur, half some incoherent babble, only an intelligible word making it out. ] 's good.

[widows_kiss]

Is it?

[ Her voice is soft, gentle and amused as she leans in to work on the tension in his shoulders and back, thorough in her attentions as she focuses on her task. The slurred praise gets a smile from her as she watches him. ]

Good. You've been looking tense. I happen to be very good at these. or so I'm told.

[hyperkinesia]

When don't I...

[ He sounds a little lazy when he speaks, his words slurring. He probably shouldn't even try to talk right now, honestly, as he'll just make himself look like an idiot sooner or later.

But that much is true. When hasn't Bruce looked tense, when hasn't he walked like he constantly carries the weight of the world on his shoulders? Granted, she probably means a different kind of tension, but still. ]

[widows_kiss]

I don't know, but I'm trying to find out.

[ There's a hint of teasing in her voice as she answers him, hands working their way down his back, just as thorough over every inch she moves to as she'd been at the start.

It's fine. She'd set out to relax him to the point of maybe falling asleep anyway. Maybe she should have started on the bed, but the couch is more than comfortable enough to sleep on. She's used it herself quite a few times when it and the fireplace had held more allure than the bed. ]

[hyperkinesia]

Well, if anyone can.

[ There's probably a second part to that sentence but it goes unsaid. That seems to be a trend with them. Thoughts half-shared, feelings half-confessed, conversations with only questions or only answers, gaps in dialogue they fill out in their own heads. Maybe they're too alike, or maybe they're not alike at all, but with Natasha it feels like he doesn't need to say everything. She just knows.

Between the bed and the couch he'd have picked the latter anyway, so this is for the best, really. Not like her bed doesn't seem comfortable but it's... complicated. Which is stupid because it's just a bed but that's what it is. Complicated. There's a vague sense of distance he insists on keeping even when it's virtually gone, and this is one of the things that will (not) keep it. Sleep on the couch. She sleeps on the bed. Provided he even falls asleep.

Things are looking that way, at least, and for one Bruce lowers his defenses and tries his best to simply enjoy her ministrations, the way knots of muscle are undone underneath the pressure of her fingers and hands. His breaths get longer and calmer, eyes closed, his back and arms feeling softer to the touch the longer she kneads them. ]

[widows_kiss]

[ It's fine, she knows what he means.

She doesn't answer out loud, because she hasn't missed the way he's gone lax, relaxation stealing over him and shifting into something else. It's only once his breathing evens out that she gentle withdraws her hands, reaching to drag her chenille throw up over his form as she carefully tucks him in. When not even that makes him stir, she gets up and leaves him to sleep with a soft, secretive smile, taking her book to bed to let him rest in peace on her couch. ]

[hyperkinesia]

[ He falls asleep surprisingly easily, especially considering how much he's been struggling to do it over the past few weeks. One of his last thoughts before he completely loses consciousness is that he's glad he didn't talk himself out of coming here, that he reached out and asked for her help.

He barely moves as she gets up and goes to her bed, in fact he barely moves for the whole night, only once to roll onto his side, and then there's nothing but silence and the even sound of his soft, slow breathing coming from his end of the room. The sun's just starting to creep up, the light bleeding dimly through the curtains, when he moves again.

Some sort of nightmare that gets him to wake up, although he doesn't startle like most people. His breath just halts as his eyes snap open, vision coming to focus and his surroundings replacing the vivid memories of the dream in one slow, steadying heartbeat. It takes him a few seconds to decide what to do, but when he does, he gets up quietly, leaving the blanket draped over the couch and making his way towards the door, hoping that if Natasha hears him (she probably has at this point), she'll just let him walk out of the room without saying anything. ]

[widows_kiss]

It's too early. Why are you sneaking?

[ Natasha's voice comes from the bed, still mildly sleepy although she hasn't otherwise moved from where she's curled up around a long pillow, eyes slitted to watch him in the dim morning light. ]

[hyperkinesia]

[ Oops. Damn it, Natasha. Not that it's a surprise that she heard him, he was just kind of hoping she'd let him slip away. ]

Sorry. [ Why is he apologizing? He doesn't even know. But it's probably for more than one thing. ] I woke up, so I... I didn't want to wake you.

[widows_kiss]

[ She lives to foil all your escape plans, Bruce, haven't you realized this yet? ]

Did you get enough sleep?

[ Look, she's already awake now. She pushes herself up into a sitting position, wearing a too-big tshirt that probably doesn't belong to her, the sheets pooled around her waist, hair tousled from sleep as she lifts a hand to brush it back from her face. ]

[hyperkinesia]

I did, actually.

[ Well, guess he's not really going anywhere after all. He steps over to a chair nearby instead and sits down, just because standing in the middle of her bedroom was bound to make him feel a little awkward. ]

Thank you. [ That much is, in fact, genuine. Even despite the nightmare. ] What about you?