Hi. New Stanner fic. Which, importantly, was also written by Christina's Inferno (who is awesome and you all should go read her stuff.) So, yeah, it's really late right now as I write this note and my mind is fried from all this so I'm just gonna say I hope you all like it and we would love to hear what you think.

And also, we don't own this lalalalala you all know that and whatever. Enjoy.

Bruce had been particularly quiet that day. It was something Tony was used to, the doctor's rather resigned personality, but he'd barely spoken two words since the morning. It was strange, eerie, almost, but Tony found himself almost afraid to question it.

Sometimes, when Bruce got like this, he'd remember when he'd met the man, and he'd mentioned how he tried to kill himself (gun in the mouth, Hulk spit it out) once, and when he wasn't being thankful Bruce had lived, he was terrified that he'd try it again. He liked to think that Bruce's living situation had improved (what could be better than living with Tony?), but he wasn't an idiot. People didn't suddenly become 'un-suicidal', and while Bruce wasn't some stereotypical emo teenager with dyed black hair and razor blades, that didn't mean he couldn't (and wouldn't) hurt himself.

Having this thought, Tony sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd arrived at one of the uppermost floors of the Stark Tower, where he'd found Bruce earlier, and the man had barely moved since. Tony took a few casual steps forward to where Bruce was standing by the window, and licked his lips.

"It's a long way down," he said, stupidly, and recognized this immediately, because he knew that Bruce was brilliant and that he, Tony, was brilliant, and they both could see and determine height. "Nice view, isn't it?"

"Are you about to tell me you had this specially designed somehow?" Bruce asked. "Or it serves some special purpose that's meant to amaze me?"

"The view? No. It's just nice to be able to look out at the world and know that I'm standing in a building designed by one of the most intelligent men ever."

"Yeah. It's nice. I suppose." Hands in pockets, Bruce turned around and paced away from the window, avoiding Tony's gaze. "What brings you up here? Got a job for me or something?"

"Well, you're more interesting than watching porn and jerking off or reading or even drinking, which is a compliment, by the way. I thought I'd see what you were doing."

"Nothing exciting. Sorry to disappoint you," Bruce replied. They were both silent for a moment, Tony gazing out over the city skyline, Bruce looking at the wall, before Tony asked the question that had been weighing on his mind.

"Were you thinking about jumping?"

Bruce stopped mid-step, and glanced over at Tony. "That wouldn't even leave a scratch."

"That's not exactly what I meant."

"I know." Bruce looked away again. "If a bullet can't kill me, jumping off a building won't, either."

"You're a genius," Tony pointed out. "Maybe it's not bullets or jumping, but there's got to be something out there that kills you."

When Bruce turned to him, Tony couldn't read the emotion in his eyes. "There's not. I've tried. Trust me. The Other Guy comes out before I can hit the ground, or bleed out, or suffocate, or drown. He broke every noose I constructed, and he isn't affected by pills or alcohol or drug overdose."

"You've tested this?" For once in his life, Tony couldn't figure out how he felt. It was a mixture of sick curiosity, that one could turn suicide into science, pity for a man who was trapped in a life he hated, and pure shock.

"Every one." Bruce pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. "There's no way out."

Tony found himself unable to look at Banner. "And that's what you want, right? A way out? You don't think that there's any good you can do in this world?"

Bruce stopped for a second, fixing his eyes on the wall opposite him. "Not... necessarily. It's not a way out that I want, Stark. I don't know what exactly it is that I want. Something... something that will make me not want a way out anymore. Something to live for that the Other Guy can't smash." He paused and smiled humorlessly. "I'm sure that none of that makes any sense to you."

"I'm pretty sure it does."

"Really." Bruce turned towards him, finally looking Tony in the eye. "In what way? You're a man who has everything."

"Not everything." Tony's thoughts settled on Pepper.

"What could you possibly not have?" There wasn't even anger on Bruce's face, but a sort of extreme fatigue that seemed to radiate from inside of him. He wasn't jealous, Tony realized, just tired of living.

"Well, as of ten minutes ago, I no longer have a girlfriend, which may be the reason I was about to go watch porn or drink or both." Saying it out loud made Tony feel...weak. He saw no reason to compound it and tell Bruce that Pepper had been the one to end it. It would be nice to hang on to that last shred of his masculinity as long as possible.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Even through his own heavy thoughts, Bruce's voice was honest, and Tony suddenly wished that it wasn't. He was vain, maybe, but not stupid; he knew that Bruce's current suffering went beyond being dumped by a girl, no matter the reason. Hearing sympathy from the man who currently deserved it was fairly awful.

But that wasn't Bruce. Tony knew that. Bruce wasn't the self-absorbed, too-big-for-his-breeches man as Tony was. He hadn't known the man for a particularly long amount of time, but what he had seen was enough to conclude that Bruce Banner wasn't the type of man to put himself over others. He didn't want sympathy.

"You want a drink?" It was all Tony could think of to say.

"No, thanks."

"Then do you want to talk?" It was more emotion then Tony usually showed, but hey, he liked Banner. No harm in some conversation.

"Is the topic of this conversation going to be break-ups or suicide?"

"You tell me." Tony paused. "I'll tell you about what happened if you tell me what you were thinking of doing." He sat down on the floor, and after a moment, Bruce joined him.

Bruce was silent for a minute, removing his glasses from his face. Honestly, he didn't know what he'd been thinking of doing. There was nothing left for him to try, but he had to settle on something. Stark wasn't easy to please. "It's, um... pretty high up here. Lots of glass. Sharp things. Dangerous chemicals."

"Honestly, Banner, am I going to have to put you on suicide watch or something? Keep you chained in a bedroom?"

"I'm fine, Tony. There's no need to watch the man who can't even kill himself."

"Well, I mean," Tony shrugged lightly and placed his glass on the counter. "Thoughts are pretty bad, too. I don't really... like the fact that you're thinking about that."

"Your concern is appreciated," Bruce said wryly, "but unnecessary." He paused, reorganized his thoughts. "Your turn. What happened with Ms. Potts?"

"She told me she was tired of being second-best." That was the closest to the truth Tony was willing to go.

"To your projects? To the Avengers? To your ego?" The last question made Bruce smile a bit.

Tony took in a sharp breath, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, not... not exactly. There are some other things she was placed under." He kept his gaze averted from the man before him.

"Like? I'm no expert in relationships, but I have gathered that your significant should be at the top of your list of priorities. Even above yourself, Tony."

"You're right. And I - I have that, that one thing above myself - hard to believe, I know, but I do." He could feel the words falling off of his tongue before he could even try to regain control of them. "And it isn't Pepper, Bruce, it never really was. It was... it is..." Another pause. "You."

He wasn't looking at Bruce, so he couldn't tell what the doctor was thinking. A silence descended on the room, in which neither Tony nor Bruce moved.

"Tony..." Bruce's voice was quiet.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut for a second. "I probably shouldn't have said that," he muttered, more to himself than the other. He still refused to look at Bruce, afraid of what he might find. "Just...forget I said anything, all right? It was stupid."

"Tony," Bruce said again, his voice a bit louder. "Look at me."

Tony did, finally, raising his eyes to meet the careworn brown ones. "Yeah?"

Bruce smiled a little. Not a forced, fake smile, but something genuine. Small, but still there. "That's not stupid."

"It's fairly stupid, actually, telling people how you feel," He tried to keep focused on the words and not how easy it would be for this all to fall apart in a minute if he said something wrong, "It never ends the way you want."

"I wouldn't say that's always true." Bruce took a couple steps forward.

"I'm sure whatever you're about to tell me is inspirational and all, but if it's all the same to you, I'm going to go drown my sorrows and stupidity in a nice glass of something highly alcoholic."

"I actually wasn't planning on telling you anything." Eventually, Bruce stopped directly in front of him. Tony's eyes were elsewhere, somewhere behind him, but Bruce took ahold of his chin and turned Tony's head back to look at him. "Since you don't seem to like telling people how you feel, apparently." He hesitated, the breath quickly passing to and from his slightly parted lips. Tony was stiff before him, and for once the expression on his face was far too complicated for Bruce to read.

"See, this is the problem with feelings. People react to them weirdly."

"I didn't think things like this were considered weird," Bruce said softly. "I mean, this is what you do, isn't it?"

"Do when what?" Tony snapped. "When you love someone?"

The words sat heavily in the air between them.

"Yeah." Bruce paused. His hand was still on Tony's chin from before, and tentatively, he tightened his grip on the other's face, leaned forward, and ever so slightly brushed his lips against Tony's.

"If you're going to kiss me, you'd better make it real," Tony smirked, and was rewarded with Bruce's lips again. For a moment, he wondered when the last time Bruce had done this was, but then Bruce's hands were in his hair and so Tony pulled him closer as their kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

Bruce felt his heart rate rapidly increasing, and though he knew the reason why he hadn't done anything like this in a long, long time, it didn't stop him. He could honestly say that, despite the feeling of his heart practically beating out of his chest, this was the least angry he'd been in a long time.

Afterwards (a very long time afterwards), with Bruce sort of leaning on his shoulder, Tony asked the first question he'd thought of after the kiss.

"Is this...real?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

"Seemed pretty real to me," Bruce said quietly, his fingers toying with the edge of Tony's sleeve.

"Good. I'd hate to find out later that this is just some sort of drunken fantasy."

"If it is, we're both drunk," There was a faint look of amusement on Bruce's face, one that disappeared quickly. "How long...how long have you...I mean..." He let his question trail off and hoped Tony would know what he meant.

"So the jabbing you in the ribs, or the discussions in the lab, or inviting you to stay here...that didn't clue you in?"

Bruce licked his lips. "Honestly," he said slowly, "I thought you just wanted to see the Other Guy come out and play, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I didn't think that was the real reason. Saying 'let's play' and all? Not so subtle, Tony."

"Wouldn't want you to think I wasn't interested." The infamous Stark smirk was back on his face. "So what do we do now?"

Bruce's answer involved his mouth and Tony's, but it was entirely nonverbal.

"Sir, Captain Rogers is here in the lobby," JARVIS's voice came from somewhere above them. "He says it's urgent."

"I'm a little busy here, JARVIS," Tony said, and Bruce laughed. "Tell me to come back in say...a week?"

"But, sir -"

"Shut up."