It's easy to blame someone else for your mistakes. It takes no effort to point fingers and say you're innocent. Even when the fault is your own entirely, how could you admit your faults when you are not nearly brave enough to face the consequences?
And what if there is no logical way to blame anyone else.
Tony didn't need to be having an existential crisis right now though.
His head throbbed and the bandage around his chest tightened as he tried to breathe. His vision was blurry but he could smell that he was in the hospital. Someone squeezed his hand as he came to and Pepper's voice scolded him softly, "You cocky bastard, you scared us all half to death."
"Bruce," he choked out, remembering what got him in this bed. "Is Bruce alright?" He breathed. Last he remembered was an explosion on the peak of Stark Tower, glass shattering, and only darkness after that.
Pepper hesitated, "Bruce is…fine. Injured, but h-he'll be fine." She didn't sound too confident. He could tell Bruce was in the next room over; Tony could hear him snoring. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was just lying back for a second during one of their all-nighters.
In his relapse, his thoughts turned again to blame. Whom could he blame for that experiment going awry?
No one, of course.
Bruce had told him it was a bad idea, warned him of the inconsistencies in the calculations. He didn't even understand what he was trying to do. Tony just wouldn't listen and now they were strapped up in the hospital. For what?
Tony just wanted to write Bruce's name in the sky.
His love for him, in that second, gave him the courage to blame himself as he fell asleep again.