The sky was overcast, but there was no taste of rain in the air as it drew to the small hours of night. Tony had been informed by JARVIS that night that someone had gotten into his liquor cabinet, so naturally he had assumed it was Romanoff (since Thor was gone) and had gone up to investigate. However, he hadn't expected to find Bruce in the state-of-the-art kitchen slash living room, sitting on the black leather couch staring melancholily out at the wall of glass.

Tony frowned at the sight of Bruce sitting in the dark. He had his knees drawn into him and misery was clear even from behind. Bruce...Bruce didn't drink. Bruce was too careful to drink. But as he stared at the vision before him he couldn't deny that Bruce was in fact drinking.

Tony cleared his throat, making no attempt to be stealthy. Something was already up with the physicist and startling him would be a very bad idea.

He started towards Bruce, making his way around to where he could see the glass almost empty of its amber liquid. Bruce was swirling the last sip with glazed-over eyes. He stopped a few yards away from Bruce, a worried line between his eyebrows.

"Are you here to give me a lecture on how bad alcohol is for me?" Bruce finally asked when it was obvious Tony wasn't going to move any closer.

"Me? Hardly the person for that lecture. I could ask Steve though if you want." Tony replied airily as he assessed Bruce. He was still swirling that drink, staring at it morosely. That ever-present crease between his brows was there and Tony almost wanted to smile at the small pout present on his plump lips.

Bruce's eyes flickered up to meet his for a moment before his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. "Yeah," he said into the drink, "I guess you're not."

Tony watched as Bruce finished the remainder of his glass before reaching out to the coffee table in front of him and pouring himself some more.

"I was under the impression you didn't drink." Tony said, because there wasn't a whole lot he could say.

"I don't. I don't really like the taste." Bruce's frown deepened and the misery in his eyes returned, "And you know, loss of control."

"So why are you now?"

Bruce leaned back into the plush leather. The top of his shirt stretching open where he had neglected to button it. Tony's eyes wandered to the exposed skin and little bit of chest hair he could see. Tony imagined the feel of it under his hand.

"I'm just tired." Bruce mumbled, effectively correcting Tony's eyes back to his face.

"Ya know I have sleeping pills for that." Tony retorted.

Bruce leveled him with a look before dropping his head back against the plush leather.

"Not that kind of tired?" Tony asked and with a sigh he plopped down next to Bruce. He grabbed the glass from Bruce's hand and downed it in one. It was strong stuff, burning on its way down and making even Tony have to clear his throat a little.

"So what happened?" he finally asked the question that had been hanging in the air for too long.

"I just needed to clear my head."

"And you don't think drinking alcohol is contradictory to that?" Tony felt in the leather how Bruce turned his head towards him. Tony only meant to glance at Bruce but something in his doe brown eyes drew him in and made him pause.

"Do you ever..." Bruce's eyes were like molten lava and Tony felt himself growing impatient to hear the next words.

But in the next moment Bruce closed his eyes and the emotions were closed off with them. He turned his face back towards the ceiling before he whispered through his frown, "...ever wish you were normal?"

Tony could have given his usual flippant response but something in Bruce's mood and seriousness made him give pause.

He pressed his lips together as he considered his response to the question.

"Yeah. Sometimes." he finally breathed out.

Bruce gave him such a look Tony knew he hadn't been expecting that answer.

Tony sighed as he leaned further back into the couch, his arm brushing against Bruce's side and the back of his head touching Bruce's arm that had been draped over the back of the couch.

"We all got handed stuff that wasn't part of our plans. But we're palming our way through this. And that's the best we can be expected to do."

Tony stared at the side of Bruce's face.

"What got you thinking about that though?"

Bruce turned his face back towards Tony, looking him straight on. "I just got thinking about what I would do if I were...if things were different."

Tony saw a flicker of something pass Bruce's face; longing, loneliness, lust. But as soon as it was there it was gone and it left Tony wondering if he had even seen it at all. Or if he was just seeing what he wished he would see.

"Bruce..." Tony whispered. It wasn't loud. He didn't even mean to say it but in that one word were so many feelings and thoughts. And he knew that Bruce heard at least some of them.

Bruce allowed a watery smile to show, "Not now Tony." and what he meant was clear.

Bruce sighed as he looked away and reached back out for the glass Tony had neglected on the coffee table.

"Why not?" Tony pushed. They'd been dancing around this for too long.

"Because I've been drinking and I don't want to talk about it right now." Bruce replied irritably. He regretted snapping at Tony the second the words had escaped his lips. He poured more of the amber liquid into his glass.

Bruce brought it to his face but before the first drop could touch his poisonous lips Tony snatched the container away and swallowed it in one again. It burnt a little less this time. He didn't know if it was because of the alcohol itself or because of the emotions simmering inside of him.

"Well I do." Tony inched closer.

A hesitant expression wavered in Bruce's eyes.

"Tony." he warned, "I mean it. No."

Tony stopped just an inch from his lips. He saw the look in Bruce's eyes weaken as their breathes mingled.

"Stop me then." he breathed, "I know you can."

"Tony..." Bruce's eyes were filled with longing now. "I can't..."

"Can't stop me or can't accept that we have been dancing around this for forever? Why have we been avoiding this?" Tony knew he was pushing but he also knew that was the only way he could get Bruce to confront this.

"I just can't." Tony saw the pain in Bruce's eyes as he whispered this.

"Why?" he whispered back as he cupped Bruce's face tenderly.

"Because," Bruce blinked his eyes against the sting misting them, "I have this thing inside me." he pounded his chest. "Don't you get it?" He was pleading. His eyes were begging Tony to understand. "I'm poison Tony."

Tony's eyes softened.

"Dammit." Bruce bit out as he clenched his eyes shut and tried to will the tears from forming, "I hate this." This was too much. He was being too honest. He didn't mean to say any of this.

Tony sighed as he gave a couple inches.

"You're not poison. Not anymore than I am at least."

Bruce's eyes locked onto him in confusion.

"You think I don't have my own luggage? So you turn into a giant green rage monster sometimes; I'm an arrogant alcoholic asshole all the time."

Tony saw understanding dawn on him and continued.

"I survived my own heart poisoning me. I can take anything you throw my way." he gave a quirky smile and added, "figuratively or literally."

Tony was rewarded with a quirk of Bruce's lips. Doe brown eyes softened ever so slightly.

Tony felt triumph when he recognized that expression. He knew he was making headway.

Bruce suddenly dropped his head on Tony's shoulder in a resigned manner.

"This is why I didn't want to talk about this tonight." Bruce mumbled against Tony's collar bone, sending delightful chills through him.

A slow smile spread on the engineers face, "Why? Because you knew you couldn't resist me?" he teased.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Bruce groaned.

"It's just one of my many charms." Tony beamed.

"You're an idiot."

Tony could only grin at this.

"Your idiot?"

Bruce scoffed good-naturedly, "No one else will take you."


I had written this beauty a year ago in hopes of finding a way of plugging it into one of my many Tony/Bruce stories but it just never happened.

Remember to like/comment and especially follow this story as I might add on to make it a series or just use it as a short-story dump.