-TEN-

When the excitement of all the crazy dancing bodies finally got to be too much for Tony at about 3am he found himself staggering blearily towards one of the balconies to get a bit of peace. With practiced movements he subtly extracted himself from the throng of people and slipped out unnoticed – or so he thought. But a minute or so later, his dream of a moment's peace dissipated sharply when the door to the balcony reopened and another man stepped out.

Tony stayed very still – maybe the man wouldn't see him and would just go back inside.

He heard the unmistakable click of a lighter – oh great. Now he was stuck on a balcony with a goddamned smoker. He really needed to filter down his list of guests better in future… Who even smoked these days? Cigarettes were so last generation.

Then the smoke reached his nostrils and… woah. That was no cigarette smoke. He looked up sharply to see which of his guests was into that stuff, because he was pretty sure JARVIS had filtered down the invite list to exclude users for legal reasons. He didn't want cops busting in (which happened regularly, if he was honest) and finding a bunch of illegal shit in his house. The guy looked… older than his desired guest profile. And he was wearing rather a lot of clothes considering it was a pool party. But recognition flickered at the edge of his fuzzy mind.

"Bruce?"

The guy jumped sharply and turned to face Tony, a slightly guilty expression on his face. "So that's where you are. I came downstairs to look for you but gave up after about ten minutes of being smothered by half-naked bodies. Just came out to uh, get some air…"

"Air. Right." Tony smirked. "I didn't know you were into that crap."

"I uh, it helps me relax." Bruce shuffled awkwardly.

"Well then! Now I know the secret to controlling the Hulk – better go let Fury know!" He pretended to head back for the door.

Bruce snorted. "I'm pretty sure he already knows. Do you seriously think there are any secrets Natasha doesn't find while we're not here? They've got us all sussed, man."

Tony turned that comment around in his head a few times. It made him uneasy.

Bruce glanced at him when he didn't reply for a while. "You look a bit rough." He offered him the blunt he was holding. "Want some?"

Tony chuckled and pulled a face. "No thanks. I think I'm good."

"You know, I think he enjoys all this. Spying on us all, getting all the info so he knows exactly how to push all our buttons." Bruce stated, giving him a look.

He stiffened. Bruce was talking about the meeting earlier that day. Well, yesterday really. The one he'd basically had a tantrum in and stormed out of like a toddler. He looked around hastily for his drink, then realised he hadn't brought one out here with him. Bruce silently offered him the blunt again. Tony hesitated a moment, but accepted it this time. He'd never done weed before – he'd made it his motto to keep things as legal as possible because someone was always looking for an opportunity to ruin him. Almost immediately, it was like he'd been filled up with warm water and the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. He sighed out with contentment and passed the blunt back. He felt heavy and a bit sleepy. "Wow, that stuff's strong." He muttered.

Bruce grinned slowly. "I only get the good stuff."

They both sat quietly for a moment, taking in the lights of the busy city.

"We don't have to take Fury's crap, you know." Bruce said suddenly. "He doesn't own us."

Tony sighed. "I'm so tired." He said.

Bruce looked over at him and he definitely looked tired. "Yeah, this stuff can do that to you." Bruce allowed.

"No, I mean." Tony waved his hands vaguely. "Just in general. I'm tired of fighting. Terrorists, aliens, SHIELD, Fury. I'm done with it."

Bruce was watching him carefully, but stayed silent.

"It's like, every fight has just chipped away at me. No – completely shattered me. Who I am, my body, my mind. And every time, I keep trying to get back up and put the pieces back together, but… I just can't anymore. Sometimes a thing gets broken and it can't be fixed, y'know?" he reached across for the blunt and Bruce handed it to him without a word.

Eventually, Bruce spoke. "So you're just gonna give up?" he asked. He didn't sound judgemental – simply curious.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Tony asked blankly. "I mean you were there. You saw what happened when I tried to pick myself back up last time, when I tried to face this thing head on. I'm not made for this. I'm ready to admit defeat."

Bruce shrugged. "If that's what you want." He took a long drag.

Tony frowned. "Well what do you think I should do, then?"

Bruce looked lazily over at him. "What do I think? I think you've fallen down and you're hurt and scared and alone. I think you're afraid to try to get back up, because you're afraid to fail. You're scared of looking bad, and terrified of being a disappointment. But I think, even more than that, you're scared that no one even cares enough to be disappointed in you."

Tony gaped at him. He wanted to be indignant, to be angry, to tell him he was wrong, but no words came. Because he wasn't wrong.

"So for what it's worth, Tony, I care. And I'll be extremely disappointed if you give up now." His words were calm and matter of fact as he picked himself up off the balcony floor. He started to leave, then paused at the door and turned back to Tony, stating quietly. "But I'm not going to stop you from quitting, if that's what you want to do."

Then he was gone, and Tony was left feeling hollow in a completely different way.