Sixty-four days. It had been sixty-four days since I had climbed aboard my personal jet and left my best friend in Calcutta so he could find what I couldn't give him. Despite my heart feeling as if it had been ripped from my chest, I still was able to work normally…for the most part. I couldn't spend more than fourteen hours in the lab at a time before my mind began to wander to the emptiness in the seat at the table across from mine. With the exception of the occasional group meal and meeting, I hardly interacted with the team and was surprisingly silent a majority of the conversations unless it needed my input. The team was heavily concerned, but I dismissed them; it wasn't like I needed anyone to hold my hand.

What they didn't know was that I hadn't been up to my penthouse for more than ten minutes at a time since Bruce had left. I would come up there to grab some items occasionally, but all of my spare time was spent typically on Bruce's floor, watching old test videos he'd taken part in and sleeping in the bed that held his scent so strongly. I found myself in the clothes he'd neglected to pack, wearing his cologne that he rarely used, anything to make his absence even a little less real. One day, I happened to look around his room and found a few photographs he'd had printed off of us on our rare outings together. To say I looked at them a dozen times a day would be an understatement.

Bruce was always busy and the telecommunication systems in Calcutta weren't up to par, despite my offers to build some towers there for him, so our interaction was cut and I tried to understand why. Bruce had said he needed to distance himself from the Avengers life as much as possible, but I didn't think he meant he would cut me out as well. Not that I could blame him, but it certainly didn't make things easier for me (as if this was about me). There wasn't really anything I was willing to tell him, but the sound of his voice somehow brought light comfort to me.

I had finally decided to confront my feelings the same way I confronted everything else: head-on and fearless of the unknown. I didn't define myself as "gay" as Bruce was the only man I'd ever held this sort of affection for, though it was certainly more than an attraction to his looks. No, this was something deeper – something I hadn't felt for anyone but maybe Pepper though her loss was incomparable to how I felt. At least when Pepper left, I could smile and act as the playboy I had been beforehand. Without Bruce, I found myself unable to go out or even leave sarcastic remarks towards Steve during meetings – something everyone had begun to notice. I brushed off their concern, insisting I was okay and that it didn't absolutely kill me not to have Bruce with me anymore. I had always been a rather decent liar.

Sixty-four days (not that I had been counting) since Bruce's departure, and I was an emotional wreck. Christmas passed and New Year's was just around the corner, so I had taken the celebratory liberty of shutting myself in on the floor below my penthouse and seeing how much scotch my liver could handle. I had asked JARVIS to take the next few nights off, forwarding any messages that weren't urgent or from SHIELD for me to deal with when I was sober and concerned about anything but the emptiness in my chest. Unless there was another security breach, no one could come up to bother me without the floor's access code. I was alone; blissfully, unfortunately alone.

It was a little past one in the morning and I was on my third scotch and fourth season of Nip/Tuck. The heavily-falling New York snow was accumulating on the balcony outside and, with the exception of the television and the vibrant glow from my chest, the whole room was dark. I had somehow managed to accumulate every square inch of space on the couch and was on the brink of sleep.

…until I heard a faint beeping that I knew hadn't come from the show.

"Security breach," I mumbled to myself before I remembered only two people knew the access code to this floor. "…no fucking way." I sat up quickly.

The doors slid open and in wandered a disheveled figure that I could hardly make out in the darkness until he hit the lights. He gasped. "Tony?"

My heart felt as if it had stopped, but minus the pain of real cardiac arrest. Time, that usually had a way of screwing with me, stood to a halt. It couldn't be. I looked up to meet familiar brown eyes. "…Bruce?"

His hair was longer than I'd ever seen on him and he had heavy stubble. It actually suited him rather well. His shirt that matched the one I wore hugged his biceps more than it had before - I guessed he'd started working out in his spare time again. The expression on his face probably matched mine: eyes wide, mouth slightly agape with the corners gradually moving upward. Both duffel bags he had on his shoulders fell to the floor. "What are you doing here? Steve said you had shut yourself in your penthouse. I wasn't gonna swing up until your hangover was slightly alleviated in the morning."

"What am I doing here?!" I replied. "You're supposed to be in Calcutta finding yourself and being a good Samaritan and—"

"—and I headed back two days ago and left like ten voicemails. You didn't get them?"

I sighed, lowering my head in resignation. "…no. I didn't. I've had JARVIS forward everything for me to deal with next year. Fuck, I haven't even left this floor the past four days."

Bruce quirked an eyebrow, arms folded over. "Tony, I know you hate the holidays more than anyone in existence and that's perfectly understandable, but why aren't you being a hermit in your own living room?" he inquired, hip cocked to the side as if he were my mother.

I grinned sheepishly up at him. "Well, technically, all of the living rooms here are mine," I began, trying my damnedest to not look like the pathetic waste of flesh I had become and making Bruce's eyes roll in the process. "I got tired of the usual atmosphere so I changed locations."

He gave me that smirk-like half-smile that he had unbeknownst given to me in his sleep. "You couldn't just get your penthouse remodeled?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Too many people. I'm not a people person this time of the year," I said, taking a sip of the drink I'd forgotten momentarily about.

"What's that you're wearing?"

I looked down to remember I had one of his many button-ups on, with a pair of briefs and argyle socks that I'd probably been wearing for two days. "Dry cleaning hasn't come in yet."

He shook his head. "Tony Stark, if I was as narcissistic as yourself I would assume you missed me too much."

"That's irrelevant!" I interjected. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I missed running water and clean sheets, among other things." He took a few slow steps forward.

I quirked my eyebrow. "What do you mean 'other things'? I thought you got sick of the labs," I said, not wanting to jump to conclusions that weren't there. I stood up, my glass empty and the bottle in the kitchenette.

"The work wasn't a problem so much as who I was doing it for and knowing I was trapped under those conditions. In fact, I loved my job in Calcutta but it was missing a very vital piece of my livelihood…" Bruce looked me in the eyes.

"What are you talk—"

"Look, Tony, I didn't know what I was thinking, leaving when I did. I thought that in order to achieve happiness I'd have to keep 'the other guy' at bay by staying as far away from here as possible. In reality, though, I got to Calcutta and found even more bothersome thoughts than before. Sure, I take great pride in helping as many people as I did, but at the end of the day I still felt…empty." He stepped closer to me, now only a few feet away. "I couldn't point my finger on why I'd be this upset, but then it hit me that, while my anxiety is constant, it wasn't what I was doing that kept me content. It was who I did it with." He came even closer, his hands warily moving to my arms and eyes focusing on mine. "While Calcutta was a great diversion from your favorite rage monster, it didn't fill the void I unintentionally created in the process."

I bit my lip for a split second to gain composure. "Bruce, there's something I need to discuss with you," I said lowly before I closed the space between us and pulled him into an embrace I'd longed for since our last few minutes together. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tighter as I buried my head in the crook of his neck and inhaled subtly his warm scent that I'd clung to like a vice the past few months. Tears sprung from my eyes and my breathing became ragged. I felt his hands lower from my shoulders to my lower back, pulling me even closer. Suddenly, it all became clear to me that, while I felt weird missing Bruce the way I did, the feeling was mutual and I thought quickly to confront it.

He pulled his head back and I mimicked him. His brown eyes that matched mine so well focused on mine before drifting a little lower. "Tony, I've done so much thinking and I'm so scared I'm wrong—"

"Ssshhh…" I interrupted him like always. "If my hypothesis is correct as per usual, you aren't." Before he could say anything, I took a chance and closed the space between our lips by gently pressing mine to his. I was right, his lips were just as soft as I had imagined (awake and asleep). I heard what sounded like a faint moan and felt him ease into the kiss, pulling me even closer. I took the opportunity to move my hands farther up to intertwine my fingers in his longer hair, which was surprisingly soft and clean for him just coming back from a third-world country. I decided to take it a step further and cautiously run my tongue along his lower lip, subtly begging for entrance. Bruce made no hesitation and slowly opened his mouth to let his own tongue play with mine carefully, meticulously, as if pinpointing the perfect ministrations to make my heart race more than it already was. My hands drifted from his hair to his face, palms running along the stubble that had developed and cupping his jaw to tilt it to the optimal angle for flawless execution of a kiss so wonderful that I didn't even want to stop and breathe. Once again, time stood still and I was perfectly fine with that.

Eventually, though, oxygen began to become a higher priority of access than oral contact and Bruce pulled away to gasp for air and give me a look that set my whole composure on fire. "Tony…" he began, panting.

"Yeah?" I said, heart racing a thousand beats per second.

"I need a shower," he said, as innocently as can be.

I chucked. "You know where it's at. You hungry?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, I'm just really jetlagged. What're you watching?"

"Nip/Tuck," I said. "It's not that horrible. It's actually surprisingly convincing for a medical drama, I think you'd like it."

He nodded. "Well, you'll have to fill me in a bit, but I'll go ahead and give it a shot if you don't mind me sleeping on my own couch—"

"—my couch."

"Tony, you're impossible," he gave an exasperated sigh, grinning. He pulled from our embrace and opened a duffel bag to pull out some boxers and a shirt. "I'll be out in a little, don't start the next episode without me."

I smiled. "I'll just start at the beginning so you can get a real feel for it and let me know if the surgeries are realistic."

He nodded once more. "I can't wait," he said, walking down the hall to the bathroom. Moments later, I heard the shower running and took the opportunity to clean the area up, carrying his bags to his room and grabbing a blanket as well before making popcorn, even if it seemed a little middle-schooly.

The rest of the night was uneventful but blissful at the same time. Bruce laid across the couch and I joined him, this time unhesitant to get as close as possible with one hand in his hair and the other on his chest.

"Tony?" Bruce asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"That evening when we went for drinks with everyone…" he began. "…and I woke up the next day and you were just like this."

My eyes widened as I looked up at him. That morning, I could have sworn I'd left before he awoke. "What?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to wake you up. Anyway, I almost didn't go."

"Didn't go?"

"I could have stayed like that forever," he almost whispered. "But I was so afraid of confronting you about it that I just played it off like nothing had happened…much like you."

I lowered one of my hands from his hair to his cheek. "Hey, don't worry about it now. I wanted so terribly for you to stay," I said, "but I wanted you to stay on your own terms. You needed this, Bruce, and all I care about now is the fact you returned."

He smiled. "I remember the night I decided to come back so well. I…I was looking for a clean shirt and found one of your tees that I may or may not have stolen." He blushed a little but continued. "Something inside just snapped. Your scent…the 'other guy' seemed to miss it just as much as me. It took everything I had to relax and I knew I couldn't just keep—"

I cut him off with a kiss, which he didn't seem to complain about, before pulling a mere centimeter from him. "I know, Bruce. I haven't slept in my own bed since you left," I admitted. "Just…never again."

Bruce nodded, understanding completely. I turned my focus back to the television as the second episode came on. I laid my head back on his chest, the steady heartbeat and rise-and-fall lulling me so slowly. I hadn't been this tired in months.

By the middle of the episode, I looked up to see Bruce's eyes beginning to flutter closed, which gave me the peace my heart had been longing for so long. "Tony…" he mumbled.

"Yeah?" I replied, my eyes growing heavy as my head rested on his chest naturally.

He gave me that half-smile once more. "I love you."

It was my turn to smile.