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Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count: 971

Both Is Good

He'd been listening to it for hours, and he just couldn't take anymore. Bruce put his book down on the table and stood up, grabbing his keys from the dish he kept them in on the side table on his way out of the door.

Three doors down, the racket was painful; it wasn't even good music!

He knocked on the door, frowning when he realised that the door was open. His neighbour, Tony, was usually pretty quiet, and Bruce felt a spark of unease as he pushed the door open further.

"Tony?"

When he didn't get a reply, Bruce stepped inside and walked down the small corridor. When he reached the end of it, he blinked.

Tony was spread out on the floor, surrounded by blankets and pillows, with his face pressed against a particularly plush looking one.

"Tony?"

"Hmm?" Tony looked up and Bruce felt his heart melt when he saw the mess his neighbour was in. His face was blotchy red and pale, tear stains streaked down his cheeks.

"Tony, what's the matter?" Bruce asked, cautiously getting closer.

"He left me," Tony muttered, as fresh tears filled his eyes. "I was trying so hard, and he still left me."

Ah. That… that explained the Taylor Swift and Sinead O'Connor then.

Nothing compares to you indeed.

"Your boyfriend?"

Tony blinked up at him. "No! No, my Rhodey! My Rhodey left me for the army, Bruce. What am I going to do without him?"

Bruce debated on the merits of asking what a Rhodey was, but thought better of it. He did have vague recollections of Tony calling the older guy who was there a lot of the time 'Rhodey.'

"Friend?" he hedged, and Tony wrinkled his nose.

"Best friend. Keeper. He looked after me, and he was the first person in my whole life who loved me for me. I don't even know how to survive on my own. He's ruined me for independence!"

Bruce was oddly charmed by the dramatics, and he smiled softly as he walked further into the room, perching himself on the edge of the sofa.

"Do you think he'd want you to be lying all over the floor, crying about it?"

Tony looked thoughtful for a moment. "In fairness, he'd enjoy that I was lying down. He's always bitching at me for not getting enough rest. Or food. Or drinks that aren't coffee."

Bruce snorted. "Well, how about I help you clean up a little, and we can go and get some food, hmm? I'll even make sure to get some water for the table."

"You… really?"

"Really," Bruce replied gently. "You can learn your independence while he's not here and really impress him?"

"Is it independence if you're making me have water?"

"Sure it is, I'm not going to drink it for you."

Tony chuckled. "Uhhh. Can I shower first? Do you mind waiting?"

Bruce grinned. "Course not. Take your time, I'm good."

…

"Brucie!" Tony called stomping into Bruce's apartment. Bruce looked up from his book and smiled. "Come get food with me?"

Bruce nodded. It had become something of a ritual for the two of them, and every two or three days, Tony called on him to either go and get food, or to eat in. Neither of them were great cooks—Bruce because he was just terrible at it, and Tony because he just didn't think about it—so most of the time, they had take-away if they stayed home.

"Where are we going?"

Tony shrugged. "Wherever you want."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Stay home and watch that new series on Netflix? We can order pizza or something?"

"Sure. Though now I wish I hadn't bothered putting real clothes on."

"As opposed to the fake ones you were wearing before?"

"Yes. Exactly that," Tony grinned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills, putting them on Bruce's table. "Order pizza and I'll be back in a few when I don't have jeans cutting into my hip bone?"

"Why do you wear jeans that cut into your hip bone?"

"Because they make me look fantastic," Tony replied with a sly smile. "And you know I always want to look my best for you, Brucie. I'll be back."

Bruce rolled his eyes as he watched Tony walk out. He had to admit, Tony's ass looked particularly good in those jeans, but then, it looked good in almost everything Tony wore so it made no difference really.

…

"You know, I think I prefer you like this."

Tony looked up from where he'd been leaning in to Bruce's side and asked, "Eh?"

"Earlier," Bruce clarified, feeling his cheeks heat up a little. "You said you always wanted to look good for me but… I prefer you like this."

He nodded to the comfortable sweats and tank top that Tony had changed into. He'd had a far-too-big jumper on earlier that had been Rhodey's, but he'd since taken it off, complaining that Bruce kept his apartment entirely too warm.

"Brucie… do you like me?"

"Of course I like—"

"You know what I mean, don't play dumb with me," Tony said, shaking his head. "Cause, you know, if you asked me on a date—like a real date with movies and food and bowling and picnics—I'd say yes."

"Seems like a lot to do on one date, Tones," Bruce replied, his lips tilting up. "Maybe you'll let me take you on more than one, if you want to do all that?"

Tony's smile widened. "We're already practically married, you know? Instead of dates, you could just kiss me?"

Bruce leant forward, brushing their noses together. "Or I could do both. Both seems good."

"Both is great," Tony replied, barely getting the words out before their lips met.

And he was right. Both really were great.

Written for:

Auction: Day 19, Auction 4: 'I walk across the apartment hallway to your door because you're blasting music. The door was slightly opened and when I look inside you're lying in a pile of pillows and sobbing to a love song, and now I don't know what to do.'