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Sweet_Wyvern

The Blacksmith and the Apothecary

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As Bruce heard Tony clamber to his feet, his eyes fluttered open, and he winced at the light that seared his retinas, quickly squeezing them shut. He'd never truly had an aversion to sunlight before, or at least it hadn't cause him so much discomfort, but he figured it might just be from feeling so weak after the attack, so he didn't think much of it. He squirmed away from it, gritting his teeth as his wounds protested his movements, and sniffed the air. "That smells wonderful," he remarked, squinting his eyes to see what it was. His eyes focused around red hair, and his lips twitched, recognizing his host. "M'lady," he acknowledged politely, nodding his head.

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The woman, Pepper, turned her gaze on Bruce with a soft smile as Tony left. "Thank you. I suppose I can't really force you to bathe, since you can hardly move. But never mind that, I'm sure you're hungry," she replied, facing a bubbling cauldron as she scooped an amber liquid with meaty chunks into a wooden bowl. Once she had filled it considerably, she approached the injured apothecary and pulled up a chair. "Can you sit up? If you are incapable of holding the bowl, I could feed you." She didn't look embarrassed by this; it wasn't like she'd never treated a sick person before. Not with medicine of course, but healing and comfort were something she was used to.

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Bruce's lips twitched at her first comment, knowing that she was right and there would be no way he'd be well enough to stand and clean himself. He made a move to sit up, the smell of the soup causing his stomach to twist hungrily, but stopped himself as sharp pain shot through his abdomen. No, th-that option was out. His cheeks warmed, and he swallowed, clearly embarrassed by his current, rather useless, state. He'd never done well with this sort of thing, handling his own sickness of health limitations, a trait that most doctors seemed to share. But he was starving, so there was little else he could do but nod in reply. "It would be..very much appreciated," he said in a strained but nonetheless grateful tone.

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Pepper scooted close, gently putting a hand on his chest to help ease him back down. "Don't look so mortified, plenty of men have been to weak to eat for themselves. It does not make you less of a man," she scolded gently, spooning some of the stew before holding it carefully up to his mouth, where he could easily take it. "But if it makes you feel better, it's the reason I sent Sir Stark out. He'd probably have laughed," she added; being a woman, she knew him. Most did. There was plenty of gossip about him and his adultery. No one ever complained, so he got away with it.

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"It is not my pride I am concerned with," he murmured, barely loud enough for the other to hear. With a sigh, Bruce reached up to accept the soup, trying to force down the feeling of helplessness that twisted his heart, the lack of control he had. But this woman seemed kind enough, and when she explained why she sent Stark away, his lips stretched into a small smile. "Thank you for that."

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"You are welcome," Pepper replied with a faint smile, getting another spoonful for him. She was curious to know what about all of this was bugging him- besides the obvious- but she wouldn't pry. He already seemed a tad sensitive. "I can't say I was expecting anything like this to happen to me, but please, do not worry about over staying your welcome. You and your friend may stay as long as it takes for you to be well again." She continued to feed him as she spoke, occasionally brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

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Bruce smiled and slurped silently on the soup as it was fed to him, appreciation glimmering in his kind, brown orbs. He wasn't sure exactly what to say, not that he would've been able to say much at all with a spoon in his mouth. The only thing that came to mind was a genuine "thank you," which he gave as soon as he was able.

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Pepper just smiled again and touched his arm. "War isn't for everyone. You were brave to agree to help when clearly fighting is not your specialty, so therefore it is my honor to host you for the time being," she replied, giving him a bit of pause between spoonfuls to breathe and talk if he wanted to. He was so kind, not her type but he'd surely make someone happy.

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"Clearly," Bruce muttered, sighing a bit in between spoonfuls. He contributed to the score of fallen villagers, only really helped to get in the way of the real fighters, the protectors of the people here. He'd only taken down one member of the pack, and that was after it had half mauled him to death. And really, he didn't even know if it was truly dead or not. For all he knew, it was still out there, recovering, just as he was now. The thought made him shudder, but he quickly replaced his grimace with a smile and nodded in acknowledgement to his host.

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Pepper paused, lowering the spoon to look at Bruce critically. "Now don't you get that look on your face. You helped, whether you think so or not. Just being there was a help from you, and many men would have fled. You didn't. If you must focus on a positive aspect, choose that one," she scolded, stirring idly. He didn't deserve to think any less of himself, but if he kept acting that way she was going to have to do something about it. "Would you like a small glass of wine? Much smoother than the whiskey," she asked.

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"Thinking optimistically has never really been my strong suit," Bruce admitted with a sheepish twitch of his lips. She was right, of course he knew that, but that didn't make it any easier not to beat himself up about the whole endeavor. If it weren't for Tony, he wouldn't be alive now, would've died in those woods, scared and alone. "Stark is the true hero here, but I appreciate the sentiment," he murmured, offering the woman a small smile. "And yes, I would, if you don't mind."

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"Oh, please don't tell him that. It will go straight to his head," Pepper said in exasperation, standing and moving off to get him a glass of wine. When she returned, she sat again and motioned for him to lift his head. "I'm going to put another pillow under you so that you won't have to lift your head so much, drinking this will be easier. Do you want another bowl of stew?" She asked; it was in her personality to take care of others.

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Bruce nodded understandingly, amusement in his eyes at her exasperated tone, and he lifted his head and shoulders as much as he could manage so she could place the pillow underneath him. "I'm famished, actually, so I would love one, thank you," he told her, taking a sip of the whine that was offered to him.

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Pepper eased his head back down as soon as she added another pillow. It was much easier to feed him now, since he was partially sitting up. Once he had taken a few drinks she set the wine back down and refilled the bowl of stew. "There's plenty, so don't be shy," she encouraged, feeding him once more.

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Bruce smiled and ate his fill of stew, already feeling much better about half way through the bowl. He leaned back against the pillows as offered Pepper a small smile. "Hopefully this won't last too long," he chuckled softly.

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Once it appeared he was finished, pepper set the stew on the table once more. "I agree. I'm sure you'll heal quickly, though," she replied, right as the door swung open. "Darling, I'm home," Tony's voice sang into the room. It was unclear who he was talking to. The woman just sighed and rolled her eyes to Bruce, then rose to greet him. He was much more clean now, and wore a simple leather jerkin and brown breeches. It appeared he had also shaven, for his goatee was trimmed smartly and no longer flecked with dry blood. "There is stew on the fire if you want some- I must go to market for now," Pepper greeted, breezing past him and out the door. She had no desire to be hit upon.

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Bruce smiled as Tony came in, shaking his head in amusement. "The stew really is something else," he commended, just quick enough for Pepper to hear before leaving. He gave Tony a once over, a hand brushing over the stumble he'd accumulated over the...how long had they been here? With all of the sleeping, he wasn't completely sure, but no more than two days. He could do with a shave too, but he figured that should be the least of his worries right now. "You look much improved," he observed, smirking a bit.

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Tony sniffed the air appreciatively, his stomach reminding him with a gurgle that he hadn't eaten since before the battle. Then again, forgetting to eat was nothing new to him. "Smells good," he remarked, walking towards the pot to get his fill. At the compliment he paused and placed a hand on his chest, giving Bruce a very convincing modest look. "Be still my heart, you keep making advances and I'll just have to court you," he crooned, obviously a joke since he chuckled (yup, he laughs at his own jokes) and knelt to serve himself some of the stew.

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Bruce chuckled and shook his head in amusement at Tony's antics, quieting after a moment to simply watch the blacksmith prepare himself a bowl of stew. "You are a snarky one, aren't you, Sir Stark?" Bruce questioned rhetorically, having figured that out a long while ago. Word traveled about Stark throughout the village, although this is the first real time he's gotten to speak with him in person.

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"Snark and Stark are separated by a single letter, Sir Banner," Tony replied sagely, coming over to sit in Pepper's now unoccupied chair. "Besides, what is life without humor?" He asked, blowing on a spoonful and taking the bite. Not bad- better than the gruel he usually made for himself.

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"So they are," Bruce mused, "and I suppose it isn't much, now is it?" He could see Tony's point, certainly. He sighed quietly, wishing he could sit up and join the other man in conversation, rather than lying down and merely agreeing with everything he had to say. "So...how did the rest of the battle go? Were there many more injured?"

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Tony lowered his spoon with a small sigh, staring into the bowl of soup. This was the worst part of warfare, the main reason he refused to be a part of it. He hated putting people in harm's way. "More than half were killed or injured. The numbers are shaky, but.. It isn't good," he replied silently, finding now that he wasn't hungry. He set the bowl down and took a sip from the glass of wine he found sitting on the table, expression closed off.

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"Right.." Bruce muttered, his expression darkening and becoming more withdrawn as he realized that he'd obviously asked the wrong question. Dammit, Banner... He closed his eyes for a brief moment and sighed, irritated with himself. "I apologize for having asked, Sir Stark."

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Tony glanced up, as though snapped out of a reverie. Then he shook his head and waved a hand in Bruce's direction, setting the wine glass down. "Do not fret, I am fine. I was merely thinking," he replied, trying to get him away from the subject. He hated talking about war.

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Bruce nodded a bit, taking a deep breath, holding it for a moment, and then slowly releasing it in order to better expel his nerves. If only he knew what to talk about...not that he particularly wanted to speak of the battle that had very nearly cost him his life, but...well, for lack of a better topic. He cleared his throat quietly. "So, h-how's your business coming along? You've told me how brilliant of a blacksmith you are, so I would assume that things have been going fairly well for you?"

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