Bruce Banner slammed his hands on the edge of the table, sucking in deep, heaving breaths through his teeth. Fragments of metal, tiny and smoking from a recent violent explosion were strewn across the smooth expanse of the metal slab. Tony Stark paused in the doorway, a glass a scotch in each hand and a concerned look on his face.

"You alright there, big guy?" he began, tentatively stepping forward, "Remember how we talked about controlling your 'friend'? Meditation, big bag of weed, et cetera?" He took another step forward, and ducked as a shard of metal whizzed past his left ear. Glancing back he saw the shrapnel had embedded itself in the wall. Bruce spun around, a slight green tinge spreading across his cheeks and the backs of his hands.

"I'm a little frustrated," he spat, sweeping the remains of his project off the table, " I've been working on this project for days and can't seem to get it to work." Tony nodded, looking thoughtful. He plunked down into a chair and handed a glass of scotch to Bruce, who tossed it back, scowling.
"Listen, Banner," he began, sipping the amber liquid and wincing, "You gotta step back and take a minute to calm down. Can't have your little buddy coming out, now can we? I just got this lab re-tiled."

Bruce sighed. In the six months he'd been living in Stark Tower, he hadn't had an incident. Life was slow, he had his own floor to work on, and Pepper's frequent trips on behalf of Stark Industries let him spend weeks at a time with Tony, whom he had grown close to. They often spent evenings drinking and sorting through tomes on physics and radiology in the extensive scientific library downstairs. Still, sometimes frustration brought out the monster in him, and he had so far been beat it back.

Tony put his glass down, and let his eyes wander to the doorway that would bring him to his suit room in the event of a Hulk incident. They had built the lab belly up to the armory as a backup measure.

"No.." Bruce muttered, rubbing his face tiredly, "I'm fine. Just give me some time alone, and-" He trailed off, clenching and unclenching his fists. Without thinking too much about it, Tony let his hand reach up and rest on the younger man's shoulder. His fingers brushed against the obviously knotted muscles in Bruce's shoulders.

"Here's your problem," he observed, "You're tense as hell. Drop the project for a few minutes and let's head up to my floor. I have this Russian balm Natasha gave me. Works like a charm." Bruce nodded almost imperceptibly, eyes clouded with frustration. As his hand fell away from Bruce's shoulder, Tony semi-unintentionally let his fingers graze the side of Bruce's arm. Bruce sighed, exhausted from the emotionally draining experience of the afternoon.