p • r • e • s • s • u • r • e

a question of atonement

A/N tryna see if anyone catches why I chose that particular constellation for the banner. 

Update: guys I came back to edit this thing and I have no fucking clue why I chose that particular constellation if you can figure it out please lmk 

~the next day~

"We gonna talk about it?"

Tony scoffed. 

"I knew it." his tone lightened. "I knew you weren't taking me out just to be nice."

He looked out the window, his eyes shielded by the thick lenses of his favourite sunglasses. The sky was clouded, raining diffused white light harshly down on his cheekbones. 

"There's something you aren't telling me."

It seemed like Tony was scrutinising the window pane; he was actually looking just past it. Just where the glass met the air, looking for that tiny empty space between atoms. He wondered if in a pinch, he could squeeze in and hide. Bruce's silence begged a reply, and he heard his mouth mumble something about repairs.

"I doubt it needs repairs that often."

"How would you know?"

"I don't, but that sounds like a low effort excuse from someone who thinks his friends are all idiots."

Tony relented and put his espresso down on the table with a clink, turning to face Bruce.

"See that's just it-they are all idiots. When it comes to this, at least."

Bruce smirked. 

"I'm not."

"No," he sighed. "Regretfully, you're not."

He seemed to consider his words carefully.

"Tell me it's necessary."

"Not sure if you've noticed, but 'unnecessary' is basically my life philosophy, therefore-"

He yawned.

"Therefore you'll find it sufficiently challenging to pinpoint a specific-"

"Cut the bullshit, Tony."

He laughed. "What's it to you? Why is it so hard for you to accept that this-" he poked the table, "-this isn't your problem, and you're butting in where you aren't wanted? I've lived with myself my whole life and nothing is going to change just because you saunter in with your big sad eyes and your naivete-" he took a breath. "What gives you the right, to give a shit? To do anything about it?"

Bruce stared at him incredulously, wide-eyed. 

"Because I care about you more than you do, and that-it terrifies me!" he hissed.

A couple people around the room glanced over.

"And I know I'm not the only one."

He sipped his drink and watched as Tony, ever stoic, mulled this over with that pinched look of his. Bruce could see his anxiety clear as day in the way he rubbed his thumb against the coffee mug, his fingertips cycled between white and red as he internally reminded himself not to squeeze.

"You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?"

No reply.

"Does it really hurt that much?"

The accusing tone of his voice morphed rather rapidly into concern.

"Occupational hazard," Tony squeaked out.

"JARVIS told me you were...pressing on it. And that the pressure-well-" he sighed. Mental health and the deterioration thereof was tough for him to talk about. Especially when he spent the better part of the past twenty years avoiding the subject in regards to his own.