Title: Gave Me More Than A Hand To Hold.

Summary: Tony may be older, but that has never stopped Bruce from doing his best to take care of him as much as he can. Or, Tony's parents are dead and he's not handling it well. Bruce is there for him.

Warnings: None.

Notes: Tony is 21 and Bruce is 18 in this one shot.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Dark Knight Trilogy, Iron Man, any of its characters. Sadly.

OoOoO

Bruce wasn't in Gotham when it happened.

He was in Princeton, too busy trying to stay out of fights and ignoring everyone around him, so it was until he finally gave up and answered Alfred's calls that he learn about the accident. He left the campus as soon as he hung up the phone and booked the first flight to Manhattan he could find. As he waited to board, a call from Alfred assured him a car would be waiting for him by the time he landed.

Bruce arrived late, ignoring all the disapproving glares that followed him as he walked through the mansion, not only caused by his late arrival but by his appearance as well. Bruce hadn't taken the time to change clothes- the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He could almost hear Alfred's voice as he scolded him for the lack of decorum, and that imaginary voice was more effective all the looks sent his way in making him feel charinged. He was wearing simple trousers and a dark turtleneck rather than a proper suit, but at least he had the presence of mind to leave his messenger bag in the car.

He pushed his hair out of his face, placed a polite smile on his face, and continued looking around the crowd.

"Bruce," A familiar voice called, making him turn around to see Obadiah Stane walking in his direction. Bruce hesitated for a second accepting the effusive handshake and shoulder clap the older man gave him along with a smile. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course. I would have been here sooner but I got in a place as soon as I heard about what happened. Is-"

"I know," He said mournfully. "This is a tragedy of unimaginable proportions."

Bruce nodded, eyeing the older man as he clapped his shoulder one more time. It was obvious that Obadiah's attention had already been pulled away by somebody else in the crowd.

"Now, if you excuse me, there are other people I must speak to as well."

"Do you know where Tony is?" He called before the man turned away. "I was looking for him."

"I'm afraid Anthony hasn't taken this tragedy very well," Obadiah confided, before continuing on a lower tone, "He retired some time ago. I tried to stop him, of course, but I believe it's best to leave him deal with this loss as he sees fit.

"He must be in his father's study, but I don't believe him to be in a very welcoming or sober state by now."

Obadiah didn't wait for an answer. He simply walked away, leaving Bruce staring after him with his heart pounding in his chest and his fists clenched at his sides.

Bruce looked around the crowd one more time, considering the isea of searching for Jarvis before dismissing it entirely. It would be helpful to hear what the butler had to say about how Tony was handling this, but he must be far too busy right now. He ignored everything around him and headed toward Howard's study.

He didn't knock. He opened the door and slipped inside, pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click. The lamp on the desk was turned on, offering a sliver of light in the semi-dark room and allowing him to find Tony. The older boy was leaning against the side of the large mahogany desk in the center of the study, sprawled on the floor with a bottle of scotch at his side. The dark jacket and tie he had been wearing had been tossed aside and most of the buttons of his shirt were undone.

Bruce hesitated with the closed door at his back, considering for the first time the possibility that Tony may not want to see him here after the fallout they had a year ago.

"If you're here to stop me," Tony slurred, eyes squirming in his direction. "You can fuck off."

That was exactly why he had come here. To be there for Tony and stop him from doing anything insane, like drinking himself unconscious or worse. It wouldn't even be the first time. Looking at Tony now, though, Bruce wasn't sure if that would be the best idea. It most likely was what he should do, but, as crazy as it sounded, he didn't think that was what Tony needed from him right now.

"I'm not, actually," Bruce admitted after a moment of silence as he slowly moved closer. "I came to see if you wanted to share."

Tony blinked up at him, but as proof of just how drunk he already was, he simply held out the bottle to him.

Bruce held back a grimace as he drank. It was a good thing he had no plans to drink much. He didn't have a very high alcohol tolerance, and besides, he had to stay sober to look after Tony. He handled the bottle back without a word, and flopped down at his side, letting their shoulders touch.

He didn't say anything. Even now, he still could remember how sickening it had been to stand there as people approached him to say the same empty words over and over again: 'I'm so sorry for your loss.' 'It's going to be okay, son.' Some of them- maybe even most of them had been sincere, but it hadn't made a difference.

Nothing ever did, except maybe Alfred's silent and strong presence at his side.

"I'm fucking pathetic, aren't I?"

"Of course not," Bruce denied immediately. He forced himself to meet Tony's bloodshot eyes and don't look away.

Tony snorted. He drank from the mostly empty bottle before speaking. "Of-fucking-course I am. Getting drunk off my ass over people who were pretty much strangers to me."

Bruce swallowed hard. "They were your parents, Tony."

"It sure as hell would have been nice if they had gotten the fucking memo," He spat, bright the bottle to his lips one more time.

He looked away from his friend's face. Tony had never openly talked about the complicated relationship he had with his parents, but even if he didn't know the details, Bruce had pieced enough over the years to realize Tony's relationship with them had never been like Bruce's. He knew exactly how true Tony's statement really was.

How could you get to know someone who was never there?

"My mom at least tried, though. Went to a couple of my school events when I was younger, I remember that, but he never gave a fuck about me," Tony said, glaring at the wall before him. "I tried so hard to make him notice me, but when he finally did it was always to scold me for something. I could do ten things right, perfect even, but he only cared about the one thing I messed up. Every single time. Always.

"And then I gave up. I just stopped trying," Tony's smile was a twisted, ugly thing. "He wasn't even angry, you know. He wasn't angry because that just proved I was the failure he always knew I was."

"You're not a failure. You aren't," Bruce stressed when Tony shook his head. He reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. "The way your parents acted, the way they treated you, had nothing to do with you and who you are. It was them and only them. It was their mistake and not yours, and the fact you still loved and cared about them despite all that makes you better than they were."

"I don't fucking want to be better!" Tony snarled, his grip on the bottle tightening as he continued in a broken voice. "I want to be just like him and don't give a fuck. I don't want to fucking feel like this."

Bruce didn't know what to say to that, so he remained silent at his side, his gaze lowered.

The silence remained even as he saw out of the corner of his eyes as Tony's shoulders began to shake and tears started falling down his face. It was a strangled sob ripped from Tony's throat what finally broke the silence.

With tears of helplessness and rage pooling in his eyes, Bruce watched as the older boy fall apart at his side, the bottle of scotch forgotten. Bruce didn't let himself think. He simply pulled Tony close and wrapped his arms around him as best as he could.

Tony was mourning not for the parents he had just lost, but for the parents he could- should have had. The parents he deserved.

OoOoO

a/n: I will start by saying this was supposed to be part of a 5+1 type of fic with Bruce taking care of a drunk Tony and the one time Tony took care of him. Alas, I only ever wrote two parts of it, but they can stand alone as snapshots of the friendship between them, so I will post the second part here as well. I hope you enjoy them!

The ages and dates used here were noted down in the drafts so I assume I looked it up and tried to make sense of the timelines and mesh them together back then, but try not to look at them too closely. Still, if you have any corrections I will welcome them.

Title from the song Take Me Home by Jess Glynne.

This is unbetaed and I'm not a native speaker, so please feel free to point out any mistake you may find.