Fic: Spa Getaway
Spa Getaway
By paburke
Cross: SGA and Avengers
Summary: fluff. Sequel to Working Vacation
Bruce knew that something was up with the preferred pilot of the Avengers, if for no other reason than Tony harassing Steve and Clint about leaving the battle scene before the bitter end. Bruce liked Sheppard. The pilot respected Bruce’s intelligence and treated Hulk with wary respect. Sheppard was relaxing like Tony (and his compulsion to test everyone’s limits) could never be. Sheppard didn’t fear the Hulk like Natasha sometimes still did. Sheppard arrived on scene with the same ally acceptance that Clint and Steve had settled into after a battle or two.
Bruce hadn’t spent a lot of time with Sheppard, just enough to know that he was smarter than the average pilot and that, for some reason, didn’t want to be anywhere near Tony. Bruce considered him and Sheppard to be fond acquaintances (since he didn’t even know the man’s first name!) rather than gift-giving friends. So he was stunned when after a battle and after he had reverted from being the Hulk, Sheppard tossed an unlabeled canister of cream at him.
Bruce was suspicious of the gift, but he was a scientist first and foremost and tested the smell and the texture. The smell was understated and pleasant, as was the feel on his fingertips. “What’s this?” Bruce asked the man flying them to the helicarrier.
“Topical cream. You must be crazy sore after a transformation. Should help.”
Bruce didn’t like the way that the rest of the team was suddenly paying attention. He could literally see the wheels turning in Tony’s head as he fit the theory in with Bruce’s lab habits. Bruce reserved a few of his most challenging but not physically demanding experiments for after battles. Yes, the serum prevented Bruce from dying or even getting truly hurt, but the sensation of a body healing itself was not pain free.
Steve was the one who took the lead. He plucked the canister out of Bruce’s stunned fingers and started applying the cream to the scientist’s face. Within ten seconds, Bruce started to feel the effects. The aches lessened and the soreness eased. His reliable post-transformation headache was losing its foothold. Hands unbuttoning his shirt startled his eyes open. He hadn’t realized that he had closed them. Natasha was on one side of him and Clint was on the other and the two were stripping him of the clothes he had just donned.
Spies had no sense of modesty whatsoever. Steve was no help. When Bruce opened his mouth to complain, the super soldier decided that it was a perfect time to apply cream to the scientist’s jaw. Bruce had to close his mouth to prevent tasting it. He wasn’t sure of the effects of oral application, but knew better than to test it. The move was an obvious strategy on Steve’s part and from the grin, completely intentional.
Steve leaned back long enough for the spies to whip Bruce’s t-shirt up and over his head. Then the soldier returned to apply cream throughout Bruce’s hair and the back of his neck. The temporary greasy hair was tolerable for the relief it offered. Natasha reached her hand into the canister and began applying it with a ruthlessness that chased away any soreness. She started on his hands and those joints stopped creaking. Clint joined in, paying special attention to Bruce’s shoulders and spine.
Bruce didn’t arch like a petted cat. He didn’t. He also didn’t purr. The rumble in his chest was… something else.
Hands reaching for his belt buckle woke him up in a hurry. He slapped at the hands. “Tony!” he yelled at the perpetrator, “Have you no shame?”
Steve had a look on his face that betrayed his opinion of the question. Tony, behind Bruce, laughed loud and free. “None whatsoever.”
“I can reach everything else.” He plucked the canister out of Steve’s hand and the super soldier let him. “Thank you all. Your attention was appreciated.”
“Prude,” Tony sniffed. “Turning down an offer to a free full-body massage.”
Clint grinned at him as he threw the previously discarded t-shirt in Bruce’s face. Bruce was forced to catch the clothing with his less dominate hand since Natasha had moved and was currently applying cream to his left hand. Bruce knew better than to rush her.
“Five minutes to the helicarrier,” Sheppard warned. The pilot had never done that before in a non-emergency situation.
“Thank you,” Bruce told him.
Sheppard smiled, quick and bright. “Been there. Nothing so… green,” he offered at Bruce’s unspoken query, “but our medical facility puts all others to shame.” He was talking about the invisible base that was as large as a city.
“We’ll need a larger canister than that after every mission,” Steve stated. “What do we need to do to requisition it?”
“I’ll pay,” Tony was quick to offer. “Just tell me where to send the check.” Tony had done several different tests and fly-bys of the West Coast looking for the city and had been frustrated every time. He wanted that location.
“Oh look,” Sheppard said. “The helicarrier.” He looked a bit surprised for a moment. “And that’s my boss down there with your boss.”
Bruce hurried to dress and joined the others looking out the glass at a tall, grey-haired Caucasian with laugh lines and the experience to know how to precisely tilt his head so that the wind and dust kicked up from Sheppard’s landing wouldn’t get in his eyes. He was slouching with his hands in his pockets next to Fury’s soldier-straight posture. Fury looked as irritated as he normally became after extended time in Tony’s proximity.
“I like him,” Tony declared.
Sheppard huffed. He landed the aircraft with his normal expertise and followed the team to meet the bosses. He saluted for his boss, a sign of respect that Bruce had never seen him give Fury. “General, sir.”
The general saluted back lazily. “Sheppard.”
Tony was never a wallflower. He walked up to the general and offered his hand. “Tony Stark. You want to work with me.”
The general rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t. I hire you and I’m sleeping on the couch for a year.”
“I’m sure Sam will forgive you quicker than that,” Sheppard teased.
“You’ve never seen a Carter grudge and that’s nothing compared to McKay’s revenge.”
“True.” The pilot paused for a moment. “You’ve got some place for me to be?”
“Not yet but when it happens, it’ll happen fast.”
“Understood.”
“Nick, I’ll be in touch. Shep, fly me back.”
“Yes, sir.” The two men walked side by side to the aircraft where the general easily filled in as the co-pilot.
“What do we have to do to keep our pilot,” Captain America asked the SHIELD Director.
“Damned if I know,” Fury told them, “But I’m working on it.”
*
By paburke
Cross: SGA and Avengers
Summary: fluff. Sequel to Working Vacation
Bruce knew that something was up with the preferred pilot of the Avengers, if for no other reason than Tony harassing Steve and Clint about leaving the battle scene before the bitter end. Bruce liked Sheppard. The pilot respected Bruce’s intelligence and treated Hulk with wary respect. Sheppard was relaxing like Tony (and his compulsion to test everyone’s limits) could never be. Sheppard didn’t fear the Hulk like Natasha sometimes still did. Sheppard arrived on scene with the same ally acceptance that Clint and Steve had settled into after a battle or two.
Bruce hadn’t spent a lot of time with Sheppard, just enough to know that he was smarter than the average pilot and that, for some reason, didn’t want to be anywhere near Tony. Bruce considered him and Sheppard to be fond acquaintances (since he didn’t even know the man’s first name!) rather than gift-giving friends. So he was stunned when after a battle and after he had reverted from being the Hulk, Sheppard tossed an unlabeled canister of cream at him.
Bruce was suspicious of the gift, but he was a scientist first and foremost and tested the smell and the texture. The smell was understated and pleasant, as was the feel on his fingertips. “What’s this?” Bruce asked the man flying them to the helicarrier.
“Topical cream. You must be crazy sore after a transformation. Should help.”
Bruce didn’t like the way that the rest of the team was suddenly paying attention. He could literally see the wheels turning in Tony’s head as he fit the theory in with Bruce’s lab habits. Bruce reserved a few of his most challenging but not physically demanding experiments for after battles. Yes, the serum prevented Bruce from dying or even getting truly hurt, but the sensation of a body healing itself was not pain free.
Steve was the one who took the lead. He plucked the canister out of Bruce’s stunned fingers and started applying the cream to the scientist’s face. Within ten seconds, Bruce started to feel the effects. The aches lessened and the soreness eased. His reliable post-transformation headache was losing its foothold. Hands unbuttoning his shirt startled his eyes open. He hadn’t realized that he had closed them. Natasha was on one side of him and Clint was on the other and the two were stripping him of the clothes he had just donned.
Spies had no sense of modesty whatsoever. Steve was no help. When Bruce opened his mouth to complain, the super soldier decided that it was a perfect time to apply cream to the scientist’s jaw. Bruce had to close his mouth to prevent tasting it. He wasn’t sure of the effects of oral application, but knew better than to test it. The move was an obvious strategy on Steve’s part and from the grin, completely intentional.
Steve leaned back long enough for the spies to whip Bruce’s t-shirt up and over his head. Then the soldier returned to apply cream throughout Bruce’s hair and the back of his neck. The temporary greasy hair was tolerable for the relief it offered. Natasha reached her hand into the canister and began applying it with a ruthlessness that chased away any soreness. She started on his hands and those joints stopped creaking. Clint joined in, paying special attention to Bruce’s shoulders and spine.
Bruce didn’t arch like a petted cat. He didn’t. He also didn’t purr. The rumble in his chest was… something else.
Hands reaching for his belt buckle woke him up in a hurry. He slapped at the hands. “Tony!” he yelled at the perpetrator, “Have you no shame?”
Steve had a look on his face that betrayed his opinion of the question. Tony, behind Bruce, laughed loud and free. “None whatsoever.”
“I can reach everything else.” He plucked the canister out of Steve’s hand and the super soldier let him. “Thank you all. Your attention was appreciated.”
“Prude,” Tony sniffed. “Turning down an offer to a free full-body massage.”
Clint grinned at him as he threw the previously discarded t-shirt in Bruce’s face. Bruce was forced to catch the clothing with his less dominate hand since Natasha had moved and was currently applying cream to his left hand. Bruce knew better than to rush her.
“Five minutes to the helicarrier,” Sheppard warned. The pilot had never done that before in a non-emergency situation.
“Thank you,” Bruce told him.
Sheppard smiled, quick and bright. “Been there. Nothing so… green,” he offered at Bruce’s unspoken query, “but our medical facility puts all others to shame.” He was talking about the invisible base that was as large as a city.
“We’ll need a larger canister than that after every mission,” Steve stated. “What do we need to do to requisition it?”
“I’ll pay,” Tony was quick to offer. “Just tell me where to send the check.” Tony had done several different tests and fly-bys of the West Coast looking for the city and had been frustrated every time. He wanted that location.
“Oh look,” Sheppard said. “The helicarrier.” He looked a bit surprised for a moment. “And that’s my boss down there with your boss.”
Bruce hurried to dress and joined the others looking out the glass at a tall, grey-haired Caucasian with laugh lines and the experience to know how to precisely tilt his head so that the wind and dust kicked up from Sheppard’s landing wouldn’t get in his eyes. He was slouching with his hands in his pockets next to Fury’s soldier-straight posture. Fury looked as irritated as he normally became after extended time in Tony’s proximity.
“I like him,” Tony declared.
Sheppard huffed. He landed the aircraft with his normal expertise and followed the team to meet the bosses. He saluted for his boss, a sign of respect that Bruce had never seen him give Fury. “General, sir.”
The general saluted back lazily. “Sheppard.”
Tony was never a wallflower. He walked up to the general and offered his hand. “Tony Stark. You want to work with me.”
The general rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t. I hire you and I’m sleeping on the couch for a year.”
“I’m sure Sam will forgive you quicker than that,” Sheppard teased.
“You’ve never seen a Carter grudge and that’s nothing compared to McKay’s revenge.”
“True.” The pilot paused for a moment. “You’ve got some place for me to be?”
“Not yet but when it happens, it’ll happen fast.”
“Understood.”
“Nick, I’ll be in touch. Shep, fly me back.”
“Yes, sir.” The two men walked side by side to the aircraft where the general easily filled in as the co-pilot.
“What do we have to do to keep our pilot,” Captain America asked the SHIELD Director.
“Damned if I know,” Fury told them, “But I’m working on it.”
*