Disclaimer: I own nothing recognisable.


"What's wrong?" Natasha asked as she entered, because something was obviously wrong. Tony was slumped at the bar, elbows on the island, head between his hands, and the way his hair stuck up in angles was evidence that he's been tearing his hands through it. A glass and a half-empty bottle of scotch were on the island. A nightmare, no matter how realistic or horrifying, could not possibly account for the utter defeat and hopelessness.

"Pepper left."

Natasha did not say "I'm so sorry"; she knew that they were meaningless and useless, and apologising, especially for something she had no control over, was not something she did. She sat down on the stool next to him. "Did you expect it?" Because if he didn't then he was a lot more oblivious than she gave him credit for.

Tony hesitated before nodding grudgingly. "We've been fighting, a lot, about everything." She knew this; for all the privacy of separate floors, they lived in the same tower and besides, noticing these things were second nature to her.

She poured them both drinks; he downed his in one go and she drank hers too, albeit with less enthusiasm. She refilled their glasses. "Is there anything you can do to fix it?"

He shook his head and sighed. "I tried everything. Buying her stuff, taking her places, letting her make decisions – I even blew up all my suits for her." It came out as a choked sob. There was something unsettling about seeing Tony Stark so broken and defeated, and something deep inside her, what fragments were left of her humanity, ached to soothe him.

"Was that was it was all about? You blew them up for Pepper?" she murmured. When he came back from Malibu a few months ago with no suits, the team had been surprised, but he had been prickly about the subject. Natasha had seen a slightly forlorn look in his eyes when he talked about them; she knew how much they meant to him, how much a part of him they were. They were, in his own words, a "high-tech prosthetic", and to destroy them was akin to giving up some bodily function, to become crippled and immobile. For a man who valued his privacy and freedom so much, this was the greatest sacrifice.

"I wanted to show her that she meant more than them. That she was the most important thing in – " He rubbed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes and Natasha knew that he was fighting the urge to cry.

She remembered what it feels like to be utterly broken, to have the purpose of your life taken away in the blink of an eye. She's had some not-so-strong moments, dealt with overpowering emotions, and she knew that they have to be dealt with rather than allowed to fester. "Let it out. I won't judge," she encouraged.

Her words seemed to release him, for he began to sob his heart out. She instinctively wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. Jaded as she was, she knew that there was some unexplainable comfort in a hug, in a mere human touch. She did not offer empty reassurances, but told him silently that she will be there for him when he needed her.

"Why did she leave, Tash?" Tony said in between sobs. "Why is everything I do not good enough?"

"It's not your fault," she said firmly. "You did all that you could to salvage the relationship, and no one could have done more in your place."

He pulled back from her embrace, much calmer now. "Then why?" The raw pain was evident in the quiver of his voice and the shine of tears in his eyes.

She smiled wryly. "I know next to nothing about love, Tony. But what I do know is that relationships are messy. You have to give and you have to take. It's compromises and sacrifices and appreciation – and if even one of you can't accept that, then it's gonna fall apart."

"For someone who doesn't know much about love, you give good relationship advice." The look he gave her was more like his old self, though still sad and a long way from alright.

She gave a low laugh. "It's just from experience. At least it explains why my past relationships never worked out."

He fixed her in a knowing stare. "Are you the giver or the taker?"

"I guess that we – me and my exes – were all takers. We're selfish and short-sighted, we wouldn't weather it out when things turned sour."

"And what about me?" He leaned closer, and so did she when she answered, "Giver, as much as you pretend to be a selfish jerk."

He grinned, and she smiled, glad to see him looking more like the Tony she knew – part arrogant playboy and part vulnerable soul.

He caught her by surprise when his mouth crashed onto hers. It was desperate and needy and she found herself kissing him back. She didn't stop to think, only aware that the thought of Pepper wasn't nagging at the back of her mind like a guilty conscience. Tony planted messy kisses along her jaw, travelled down to suck at her neck, and she had no control over the low moan that he elicited from her.

But they were both aware that it's not love. It was comfort, pure and physical, and this was the only way that they knew to satisfy such an intense need. Natasha was all too willing to give what Tony so needed, and maybe she needed what he had to offer too, more than she had previously realised. It had been too long since she sought physical release, and with Tony it was somehow physical and emotional all at once.

They managed to make it to Tony's floor of the tower before stripping the clothes off each other. It was not a slow or romantic or thoughtful affair, but a mad, frenzied one. They ended up tumbling onto the couch, taking each other as though the world would end if they did not. And when they were both sated, they fell asleep, naked bodies tangling on the too-small surface, finally at peace from the nightmares of wakefulness and sleep.


Author's note: There are people actually reading this? Welp. Drop me a review, I love to hear from you :]