Bruce finds Tony in the middle of the floor surrounded by Legos and he's pretty sure he that it says something about their relationship that Bruce doesn't even hesitate before plopping down next to Tony and starts reading over the instruction manual.

"What are you doing, Tones?" He sighs, skimming vaguely over the instructions and humming to himself.

Tony squints at the Lego box, and when he tilts his head, Bruce notices that there's a Lego BB8 on the front. "I'm trying to put this stupid thing together," Tony growls, and there's that tired way that his voice gets whenever he's overwhelmed. Bruce takes in the scattered pieces of Lego and then back at Tony, who looks like he's on the verge of crying, and sighs.

"You want help?" Bruce prods Tony with a finger, and it should say something that Tony doesn't bat at him or poke back, just shrugs and slumps over a bit, adding another piece of Lego to his growing shape.

"Whatever," Tony mumbles petulantly, and glances back at the picture on the box, frown deepening.

The corners of Bruce's mouth tighten and he clears away the spot in front of Tony before kneeling down in front of him and holding up a hand. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Tony snarls, his upper lip curling.

Bruce knows better than to take it personally by now. Knows enough about Tony's mood swings and how he acts when he hasn't slept in 15+ hours. "Yeah, okay, totally believable," Bruce rolls his eyes, "Seriously, Tony."

Tony pushes the Lego into his hand, edge turning his palms white, and shakes his head as he continues working on it, "It's nothing, Bruce, fuck off."

Bruce narrows his eyes, "Don't make me get Rhodey."

"I'm fine, why won't you..." The Lego sinks into Tony's hand and some blood trickles down his wrist. Tony stares at it for a moment before he flinches and drops it, lowering his hand to the floor.

"Yeah, right." Bruce raises an eyebrow, "Because that would totally happen to someone who's doing just peachy."

Tony shudders, "Sorry."

"You always are," Bruce remains unimpressed.

Tony stares at the Lego and his blood slowly drying out on the floor, "I need to get that cleaned," he mumbles.

"We need to get this all cleaned," Bruce corrects Tony, "starting with your hand."

Tony gnaws on his lower lip, the way that he does whenever he's trying to focus but trying not to be too obvious about it. "We have peroxide on medical."

"We have peroxide in the bathroom," Bruce reminds Tony, "After that time when I got a papercut you stocked all the bathrooms with them, remember?"

"Dum-E did that," Tony lifts a shoulder.

"You programmed Dum-E to do that."

Tony nods absent-mindedly, not bothering to argue or anything that he does when he gets self-deprecating. Bruce isn't sure if that's a good thing or not. "Right. You're welcome?" He's trying to channel his arrogant side.

God, sometimes Bruce just wants to strangle Tony.

"Yes, thank you," Bruce stands up, "Come on, we're going to clean your hand. FRIDAY, can you get Dum-E or one of the bots to clean up the floor?"

"Of course, Dr. Banner," FRIDAY says.

Bruce nods and leads Tony to the bathroom, where, as he cleans Tony's hand, he interrogates him. "So, what was that all about?"

"Nothing, nothing, I just," Tony watches Bruce clean his hand with a disturbing amount of detachedness, "I wanted to get it right, is all."

"Mm-hm," Bruce makes the appropriately vague sounds that show that he's listening to Tony, "You always do. But that doesn't explain why you decided to use Legos as a weapon against your precious hands."

Tony hunches over, curling into himself, head lowered and shoulders rising to his ears, "It just wasn't working and I wanted it to work and... Christ, I sound so stupid and crazy." Tony scrubs his free hand over his face, "It's so irrational. I just, I was so frustrated and it wasn't working and..."

He breathes, harsh, fast.

Bruce watches the way that Tony's brow creases, the way that his lips fold into a frown, and feels himself mirroring Tony's frustrated expression. "You've been spiralling."

Tony laughs a bit, "No, really?" It's teasing, light, and Bruce kind of hates that he finds it a bit amusing, Tony's sarcastic laughter.

"Be serious, Tony."

Tony sobers, and he frowns at his hands, "I fired my therapist."

"Why?"

"She made me feel stupid." Tony's fingers twitch like he wants to make a fist. "I'm not stupid."

Bruce hums, "Weren't you the one that told the kid that most people go through many therapists before they find one that they like?"

"But I liked her," Tony's forehead creases, "I thought that she was great."

"It's okay to change your mind, Tony."

"But I liked her," Tony remains stubborn, refusing to change his mind, "It's not her fault, I was just..."

"Tony," Bruce cuts in sharply, "People change. You don't have to like someone for them to be valid. It's okay to want someone else. You're literally paying your therapist to make you feel better, if she makes you feel bad, it just means that you don't work. It's neither your fault nor hers, it just means that you don't click."

Tony keeps chewing on his lower lip, "Okay," he mumbles, and Bruce wonders why it feels like Tony's a million miles away when he's literally sitting right in front of him. "Thanks, Bruce."

"Don't thank me for doing nothing," Bruce grumbles as he pulls out some band-aids. "Mickey Mouse or Spider-man?"

"Spider-man," Tony says absentmindedly, and he smiles a bit like just the name makes him fond.

Bruce sticks the band-aid on Tony's hand. "We'll get a new therapist."

Tony fiddles with the band-aid, "I need to finish the Lego BB8." He mumbles.

Bruce rolls his eyes, "We'll finish it together, later."

Tony lowers his head as though he's been chastised, "You think that it's stupid."

"I think that you shouldn't prioritize a Lego structure over your own mental health," Bruce's voice comes out a bit sharper than he had intended, but he can't find it in himself to regret that. "And you would agree if you weren't lacking... what, 20 hours of sleep?"

"Eighteen," Tony mutters.

"Same difference," Bruce huffs.

"I'll take a nap later," Tony promises.

"Yeah, as in as soon as you change into your pyjamas."

"But the BB8..."

"...will be finished more efficiently if you were awake and in your right mind."

Tony twists the hem of his shirt, vulnerable in a way that Bruce hasn't seen him in a long time. "I don't like sleeping," he mumbles. "I keep dreaming of Titan and the kid just..." he spreads out his hand and Bruce knows what he means, sees in his mind the warriors of Wakanda withering away into ash, Wanda curled over Vision's body and then just gone, Sam withered alone somewhere, Steve's hands shaking as he says, I lost him again.

"He's fine, Tony," Bruce reminds Tony, "He came back with all the others when we reset reality."

"Yeah, but," Tony hugs himself, "I can't see him."

Maybe, Bruce reflects, this was why Tony kept leaving the tower. Kept staying away overnight, and comes back with stories about the Spider kids ridiculous new stunt. "So you've been dealing with this by... what, sleeping at his place?"

Tony shrugs, embarrassed.

Bruce sighs, "What did your therapist say?"

Tony scowls, "She asked if I had thought about talking to him about it."

"...And?"

Tony clears his throat and then says awkwardly, "I can't."

Bruce stares, disbelieving, "You can't? Tony, avoiding the topic isn't..."

"This isn't about me!" Tony's hackles rise, "The kid freaks out around glitter, Bruce, how am I supposed to talk to him about my issues when his friends have given me a list of triggers specifically telling me to never talk about Titan? Talking to him about that would just be selfish, I can't do that to him, not when he's having trouble dealing with it and I've already..."

He trails off, and Bruce hears the unspoken ending.

When I've already dealt with this before.

Because that was what this was about, wasn't it? Tony had dealt with PTSD after New York, after Afghanistan, after everything he's been through and he thinks that somehow that makes his messes, what, okay? Not a big deal?

Bruce hates this.

"Okay, so you can't talk to him," Bruce sighed, "But that doesn't invalidate you, okay?"

Tony shrugs, petulant, "I can deal with it."

Bruce locks his jaw, "You obviously can't since you cut your hand with a freaking Lego."

Tony glares at him, and then at his hand, and then he grumbles, "I'll go take a nap, okay? Will that make you happy?"

"I don't know what will make me happy, Tony!" Bruce throws up his hands, "Do you? Do you know what will make you happy, because I sure don't! I don't know how to deal with this, or you, or this mess of a situation and I can't..." He buries his hands in his scalp and shakes his head, "I think that we both need some sleep."

Tony scowls, "Yeah, okay."

He storms away, and as soon as he rounds the corner, Bruce catches him slumping and regrets not chasing after.

Tony wakes up to Pepper rearranging his schedule for next week on his holograms in front of him.

"You're using my technology against me," He grumbles, rolling off the couch and blinking when he notices the black and white knit blanket wrapped around him. "Where did this come from?"

"May Parker has a lovely collection of blankets," Pepper hums as she moves his Thursday meeting to an earlier hour, "There's a plastic water bottle on the table in front of you. I'm expecting you to finish drinking it within the next half hour."

Tony squints at the water bottle. "Did Bruce put you up to this?"

Pepper raises an eyebrow, smooth and elegant. "I'm offended that you think that anyone could put me up to anything," she answers lightly. "I made three therapy appointments to let you test the waters for next week, you have one on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday after your board meeting."

Tony frowns and stretches, yawning a bit as his shoulders give a satisfying crack. "What would I do without you?"

"You don't want me to answer that question," Pepper answers shortly, a bit of a teasing smile playing on her lips. "We've both got the rest of the day free if you want to go on a date."

It feels a bit like she's diverting the conversation, but Tony plays along, "Depends, is it with you?"

Pepper's lips twitch into a small, amused smile, "And here I thought that you'd rather take Rhodey."

"Ah, of course," Tony wraps the blanket around his shoulders, "Have you got anything planned?"

Pepper shrugs, "Something nice, maybe take a walk, watch a movie..."

"Pepper," Tony whines, sidling up next to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, "Come on. Let's do something exciting together."

She gently pats the top of his head, "You're not up for something exciting."

Tony puffs his cheeks out, "I totally am! We'll go totally risque, maybe go skydiving or to a bar or..."

"Tony," Pepper's voice is soft as a feather.

Tony falls silent, drops his chin on her shoulder and skims over his schedule, "I don't have anything after six?" He notes, vaguely surprised.

Pepper twists around in his arms to give him a small peck to the nose, "This is me trying to get you to sleep at some decent hours instead of staying up to who knows when trying to do who knows what."

Tony wrinkles his nose at her, "It's not going to work," he warns her, and Pepper shrugs.

"At least I'll have tried," she presses her forehead against his. "Bruce said that you were putting together a Lego BB8?"

"Yeah, well..." Tony holds up his hand, presses it against Pepper's nose, and shrugs. "You see how well that went."

Pepper pulls Tony's hand off of her face, "I'll help you work on it later," she promises, "Five minutes have passed, and..." she glances at the water bottle, "You haven't drunk any of your water."

"Pepper," Tony whines.

"Tony," She mimics.

He huffs and sighs, "What if we go on a date?"

"Still need you to finish your water," Pepper's voice turns scolding, "It's basic self-care, Tony."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony sighs, "A movie, you said?"

"If that's what you want," Pepper agrees lightly. "I'm a bit in the mood for Treasure Planet, but it's completely up to you."

"Yeah, well," Tony shrugs, "If that's what you want."

Pepper raises an eyebrow, "What do you want?"

Tony lowers his eyes, "How am I supposed to know?"

Pepper touches a hand to his cheek and tilts her head to the side, "Talk to someone," she advises.

Tony rolls his eyes, "That's so cliche."

"It's a cliche because it works."

"That's also super cliche."

The wisp of a smile ghosts Pepper's lips, "You know what's also a cliche?"

"What?"

She kisses him, light and chaste, and then pulls away, "Romantic, hm?"

"Very," he grins, "Do I get more kisses if I tease you?"

Pepper pretends to think about it, "No."

"Aw," Tony pouts, "How do I get more?"

"Finish your water," Pepper dismisses the holograms, "And then we'll see."

"There's nothing to do," Tony tells Peter's therapist, hanging upside down from his chair, "I know that it sounds stupid, but it's true. There's always something to do, a bad guy to defeat, a threat to come, except this time..." he frowns at the therapist's sneakers, "There's nothing. I feel useless."

"Useless or stagnant?" The therapist asks. His nameplate isn't the most professional, a scribbled Fengchi with some marker on a piece of cardboard. Tony kind of likes it, it feels really relaxed. Like the therapist doesn't care about looking cool so long as he helps his patients. Tony can respect that.

Tony chews on his lower lip, "Stagnant," he decides, "I feel like I'm about to explode."

"Relateable," Fengchi twirled a pencil between his fingers, "I have a lot of patients who tend to degrade when they're not actively learning or growing. Most of them take up something new, like learning how to play an instrument or a new language. Then they get to learn something new and don't grow stagnant."

Tony watched the pencil wind it's way between Fengchi's fingers, and clasped his arms over his stomach. "So your advice is to take up the piano?"

Fengchi laughed at Tony, "If that's what you want to take out of this conversation, then okay. Take up the piano."

Tony groaned, "What do you mean?"

"I'm not giving you some instruction manual on how to live your life, Tony," Fengchi shrugged, "I'm just saying that this is what other patients did. You've got to figure it out for yourself."

Tony pouts, "But that's what I pay you to do!"

"No," Fengchi laughs, "You pay me to help you develop a positive mindset that helps your mental health stay healthy, even when I'm not around to support you."

"Boo," Tony says halfheartedly.

"Would you like to learn a new language?" Fengchi raises an eyebrow, "Or an instrument? Would you rather build a new and improved Iron Man suit? Or if you need to feel like a hero, would you rather work in a soup kitchen?"

Tony flinches at that last one, "I don't need to feel like a hero," he mutters, but the nervous fingers tapping at his legs say otherwise.

"Right," Fengchi leans back, "It's okay. Spider-man needs to help, no matter how significant the help may seem to others. Even if it's just cleaning up someone's juice when they spill, it makes him feel happy. If you're the same, it's fine."

"It's not," Tony flips right side up, and folds his hands in his lap. "It's not that. I don't... I don't help people like that, not because I'm like the kid. He does it because he's kind and because that's what he does, I do it because I have to."

Fengchi raises an eyebrow. "You feel like you have to?"

Tony plays with his arc reactor. "Stark Industries has built weapons since the second world war," he traces the edges of the arc reactor, "For decades, my family built our empire upon war and death. We didn't care who was hurt or who died in fear, who died seeing the word Stark on a missile, who flinched upon seeing my name so long as we got money. We sent bombs to villages, to blow up children and heroes and villains without discrimination and where we prided ourselves on making weapons that never failed, parents hid their children in closets and prayed that the one in their home would be the one to fail. To not work. To not blow them up or kill their children." His hands dropped, "That's on me."

Fengchi shakes his head, "It's not."

"I was praised as an innovator for making bombs that blew up larger and larger areas," Tony snarls, "I live on an empire built on death and destruction, how can that not be my fault?"

"Because you aren't!" Fengchi stopped twirling his pencil and it fell back onto his desk. "Because you built an empire on clean energy and fuel efficiency and you built the suit that saved our world from an alien invasion!"

"I built a robot that flew a city in the air! That killed hundreds of people!"

"You also stopped it and made a new hero."

"No, it was my fault, it should never have..."

"So you signed the accords because you wanted someone responsible to help..."

"And that blew up in my face!"

"But you tried!" Fengchi stops. Sighs. Buries his face in his hands. "Tony, I don't know if you know this, but there are millions of children who absolutely idolize you. Because you saved a city of people and because you stopped an alien from destroying their home and because you stopped Thanos and brought back half the world. I don't care what you did before. I don't care if you were Hitler before. Because right now, you're doing amazing things. You're changing the world for the better, you're helping everyone you can, do you think that people can't see that?"

Tony gaped.

Fengchi sighed. "Talk to Spider-man," he waved a hand, "the kid idolizes you. He thinks that you're even better than sliced bread."

Tony keeps gaping.

Fengchi peeked at him from behind his hand, "I'm fired, aren't I?"