Contrary to what Bruce had allowed people to believe, he had in fact been getting paid by SHIELD for his work. He just hadn’t been keeping most of it. He skimmed off what little he needed for clothes (before Howard had supplied him with an entirely new wardrobe and several threats about actually wearing them, that is), food and the occasional goodie for himself. And, because SHIELD provided him with a place to sleep, that left approximately 90% of his pay to be donated to a different charity every week; something he did anonymously.

Bruce was fairly certain that no one knew what he was doing- not that they had a reason to care; it was his money, after all. He just felt a certain compulsion to give back. He helped to fund research into new medications, low cost housing in war-torn countries, provide school books to low-income families; basically any charity which used the money to actually help got his attention. He also worked on the side as a consultant for Doctors in the field, under the alias David Jones. While he didn’t have a full medical background, the biological chemistry of medicine was something he could handle.

It filled his days, anyway, and gave him a greater sense of purpose than he currently had at SHIELD or in the years prior to his recruitment.

falconrune:

gammapulsed:

I have a solution for this.

It involves:

• An oven
• Cream Cheese
• Eggs
• lemon zest
• Vanilla Extract
• Sugar
• Sour Cream
• Graham Crackers
• Butter

I think it’ll work. Just give me about five hours.

you are not helping

I’ll be helping myself to some cheesecake in a bit, that’s for darn sure.

Uh- yes and no.

I’m guessing you’re really wondering about caffeine and my heart rate? That’s … not really now it works, actually. I can drink coffee, but it was never really one of my favorite things. I try to stay away from caffeine now, though, because there’s no real reason to flirt with disaster.

If I do feel like a cup, I’ll either go for a dark roast (which has less caffeine due to it being roasted for far longer than, say, Colombian roasts) or a flavored latte (there is more caffeine per oz but it doesn’t stay in your system as long as that from brewed coffee). I don’t think I’d say no to any Iced Almond Latte, to be honest.

There’s Tea, of course, because it has less caffeine naturally. I also really like V8 with a splash of green Tobasco- which has nothing to do with the question, but it is something I like to drink.

Happy Holidays

callmecap:

gammapulsed:

callmecap:

The bell on the door jingled when it opened, letting in some of the noise from the road outside. Steve took a look around the diner, ignoring the looks he was getting from the nearby patrons.  Doctor Banner was easy enough to spot in the small crowd of afternoon eaters and Steve had never been one to forget a face.  Especially not after he spent the entire flight pouring over the man’s file. 

He slid the dusty backpack off of his shoulder and doffed his baseball cap before walking over to the bar.  The hostess got a warm a smile before Steve focused his attention back on Bruce.  ”Excuse me,” He said politely, standing back enough so’s not to loom over the other man. “Mind if I sit here?”

Bruce subtly looked from one end of the bar to the other; there were plenty of seats. “Yeah, sure.” He said and pulled his own backpack from the seat next to him and set it on the floor, in between his feet. The man was the cleanest thing in the place and from the way he carried himself, he was probably military. Bruce gave him points for not sneaking around. Or tranqing him.

He really hated tranq darts.

“I gather you’re not here for the stellar cuisine.”

“Well,” Steve winced and smiled apologetically, “Not exactly. Though I could do with a cup of coffee if you wouldn’t mind, Miss-” he paused to glance at her name tag, “Caroline?”  The hostess’ frosty attitude couldn’t quite keep up with the sincerity of his smile, though it probably helped that his left arm was still in a sling.

The coffee was black as tar but Steve only added a half a teaspoon of sugar before taking a sip thoughtfully.  After a moment he turned and spoke.

“Listen, Doctor Banner, I don’t want to make you nervous.”  He said, his blue eyes watching the other man with concern. “My name is Steve Rogers and I’d like it if you’d hear me out before deciding how to answer.  I promise I’m not from any military or government you know. And if you say ‘no’ I’ll leave you alone.  No one is with me so if you want to walk out and leave no one is going to stop you.  I just want five minutes of your time. If you don’t mind, that is.” 

Bruce snorted. “Steve Rogers, as in ..” He made vague gesture and saluted, limply. Either this man was serious and by some twist of fate or time travel, he was the real deal, Or, and Bruce strongly suspected that this was more likely, he was suffering from some form of PTSD. It’s possible that he knew of Hulk and Bruce simply because he was a survivor from Culver incident and was trying to live out some alternate ending where he hadn’t provoked violence from Hulk.

Bruce took in the sling and ‘Steve’s’ otherwise clear gaze and open demeanor and wondered how this man had come to find him. That information alone was enough to warrant further discussion. Bruce realized that Rick might have been a piece to the puzzle but was intrigued, nonetheless.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I have time. And a burger on the way, if you don’t mind me eating in front of you.”

callmecap:

The bell on the door jingled when it opened, letting in some of the noise from the road outside. Steve took a look around the diner, ignoring the looks he was getting from the nearby patrons.  Doctor Banner was easy enough to spot in the small crowd of afternoon eaters and Steve had never been one to forget a face.  Especially not after he spent the entire flight pouring over the man’s file. 

He slid the dusty backpack off of his shoulder and doffed his baseball cap before walking over to the bar.  The hostess got a warm a smile before Steve focused his attention back on Bruce.  ”Excuse me,” He said politely, standing back enough so’s not to loom over the other man. “Mind if I sit here?”

Bruce subtly looked from one end of the bar to the other; there were plenty of seats. “Yeah, sure.” He said and pulled his own backpack from the seat next to him and set it on the floor, in between his feet. The man was the cleanest thing in the place and from the way he carried himself, was probably military. Bruce gave him points for not sneaking around. Or tranqing him.

He really hated tranq darts.

“I gather you’re not here for the stellar cuisine.”

Another two weeks and several hundred miles found Bruce near Bailey, Colorado. He had no particular business there, other than it was where his current ride had shaken him awake and told him to ‘git goin’, son’. Bruce thanked the man, a grizzled, bearded fellow, and had walked into town. 

Bailey was a tiny town which appeared suddenly, on a bend in the road and disappeared just as quickly. There were more tourists than residents, however, so Bruce felt reasonably comfortable in staying long enough to eat something and find another ride out. They would have seen just enough people for him to remain a face in the crowd.

Most locals referred him to the Cut Throat Cafe, not because it was particularly good, but because it was really the only place they could offer. Bruce sat himself at the bar after receiving a chilling glare from the hostess, who was busy picking her nails and flirting with someone on her phone, and ordered a burger. One of the good things that came from also sometimes being the Hulk was that Bruce would never be subject to food poisoning; which, judging from the layer of grime which coated everything in the joint, was a real possibility.

Bruce slid the sticky, laminated menu back across the bar top and took a sip of the cola he’d ordered. There weren’t a whole lot of good candidates for hitching in the ‘cafe’- he had no desire to ride anywhere with the local folk. He’d probably have to hike north along 285 for a few miles to find a willing passer-by.

Bruce wakes up back in Brazil, spends several weeks trekking to Canada to get a grip on his alter ego.

A trip southeast finds Bruce in Tsaile, Arizona where he is awakened by a severe thunderstorm to the east; he is unaware that this is a brawl between Loki and Thor (as well as Iron Man and Captain America).

Further east, he encounters a young Rick Jones, who has wandered away from his family. Alamogordo isn’t far, but it puts the fugitive uncomfortably close to Holloman AFB. Bruce takes his chances. Pt 1 / Pt 2 / Pt 3 / Pt 4

Ever watchful, Nick Fury has delegated the recruitment of Bruce to Steve Rogers; is he the best man for the job?

Tune in next time!

The past few days and nights had been trying for Bruce, psychologically. It wasn’t Rick’s fault, however. He liked kids- they were the future, as they saying went. He and Betty had talked, briefly, about having children and Bruce, complicated even before the procedure, had always waffled and changed the subject. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them, he did. It was just he had hang-ups on his own father and his childhood.

Obviously, everyone had their issues with how the were raised; too many rules or not enough. Too much candy, too many toys, too few friends. Bruce’s issues were of a different nature, however. His father had hated him from the moment he’d taken his first breath and had been consumed with jealousy over his wife’s affection towards their son. Somewhat ironically, Brian Banner had been convinced that his infant son was a monster, tainted to the genetic level by the radiation from his own work in atomic physics.

Despite all that, he actually did want kids, but it had always been ‘some day’ after they married, some day they would have kids and move to wherever and be happy together, forever. 

Someday never came, of course and Bruce suspected that it never existed at all. Not for him, at least. Betty still had her life with Leonard Sampson in Virginia, assuming he waited for her. And, from what little he learned from Leonard the night they had spoken over glasses of wine, Bruce could say that he did like him. He seemed pleasant and helpful, he provided for Betty and treated her well. He loved her as Bruce did, even if his resentment towards Bruce was apparent.

‘It’s just as well.’ Bruce thought, as he watched Rick bounce around like the frog he was imitating. If he’d had kids before Culver, they would be no better off than he had been as a child and he’d have left Betty widowed and a single mother.

“David!” Rick shrieked, suddenly. Bruce nearly had a heart attack before he realized that Rick had seen the city of Alamogordo, just beyond the tree line. The terrain they had covered was quite rough; they were at a high spot, for now.

Bruce picked him up and set him on his shoulders and Rick laughed. “Yes, you’re almost home.”

“David?”

Bruce shifted to look at Rick, who was sitting near the fire pit they had built a few hours ago. “Rick?” He answered from his position, reclined against a tree. It had taking some coaxing, but the kid had finally dropped the ‘mister’ when he addressed Bruce; it didn’t seem right, given the situation.

Rick averted his eyes and didn’t say anything for a minute, focusing instead on twisting a stick through one of the loops of his shoelaces. “..my parents are gonna be really mad at me, aren’t they?” Rick was so quiet when he asked, Bruce had to take a moment to process.

“Oh, Rick- no they won’t. I promise you that they won’t be anything but relieved to see you.” But if they see him with with their child, they would be horrified. Bruce sat up and leaned forward to show Rick that he was sincere, but Rick still wasn’t looking at him. He was still focused on his feet, on the dirt, and on not letting Bruce see that he was crying.

“Hey, no, it’s okay Rick-” Bruce cursed that he should be so awkward and unsure about how to comfort people and remained frozen, scared to upset Rick any further.

Kids could have severe emotional whiplash but, in this case, he could understand it. Rick had wandered away from his parents and now he was scared that he was going to catch hell for getting lost. The reality was that his parents were probably at least a hundred times more scared that he had died or was kidnapped or any number of terrible things.

Fortunately for Bruce, Rick was less concerned with ‘situation appropriate behavior’, and found comfort crying into Bruce’s shirt, again. Bruce had nothing but sympathy and held him tightly as he shifted to lean back against the tree. Once Rick had cried himself into an exhausted sleep, Bruce set him down on his old sleeping bag, away from the fire. This might be the only time he had to catch any food for them, and though he hated the idea of leaving Rick unattended, it was necessary.

Only two more days.