p • r • e • s • s • u • r • e

what did you do?

This wasn't a thing. This was data collection. That's all. 

"Huh. That's never happened before."

He removed his hand from the new reactor; it was shaking rather dramatically. 

JARVIS rambled on as Tony struggled to occupy his tremoring hands.   

"....irreparable damage...brain function...as well as-"

"JARV, where's Pepper?"

The AI paused. 

"Miss Potts in a planning meeting." (A/N yes, J still calls her that)

"Right," he mumbled. She'd mentioned it at some point.

Tony sloshed his glasses a bit as if he were in a film. 

No, that wasn't right. There was only one glass.  Right?

He cursed his body, tried to get his breathing under control when a crystalline smash erupted from the ground behind him. His hands were empty, but they'd neglected to tell him that until he confronted them over it. 

"Shit..."

"Mr. Stark-"

"Yeahp."

With an unreliable grip, Tony reached for the old reactor and slid it into the housing cavity. 

He fell from his stool and onto the shattered glass below, where the burn of alcohol yanked him back into his body. He panted, not rolling around in the glass but not getting up either. He methodically tensed every muscle in his arms and back. The shock had worn off and he was in between the initial burst and the lasting throb of pain, and he found it to be not entirely unpleasant. This was a very dangerous place to live. His arms felt miles long and he decided he would just stay there, on the ground, as long as he wanted. 

Yes, that would be nice. Just rest. 

"Doctor Banner is requesting access."

Oh come on. 

"Yes, kindly give me a fucking second," he breathed, pulled himself to his feet.

"Tony?"

He scanned around for a second before he saw him. He was leaning against a table, pulling glass shards out of his skin. Bruce cringed as a piece got stuck, sliding out of his arm with a pop and a trickle of blood, which he hastily stemmed using a greasy nearby napkin. 

"Jesus, what happened to you?"

"Oh, you know...the usual," he muttered.

"Dude-" his gaze snapped to the orangey tint of the whiskey on the floor, and the carefully crafted indentations in what was left of the crystal glass. 

"Tony...what did you do?"

Bruce's eyes were sad, and Tony knew why they should be but not why they were. He only dropped a glass, as far as Bruce knew. Innocent mistake. Call it arthritis. 

So why is his face doing that...that thing?

The scientist dug through the cupboard for a wet/dry vac and quickly sucked up the mess.

"Bruce, you don't-"

"Tony."

He put his hands up in submission. Bruce shoved the vacuum away and came back with the first aid kit. It hadn't been touched in years; there was a fine layer of dust on the lid.

He was sitting on the countertop now, his hoodie zipped up halfway to reveal the arc reactor, barely secured. He connected the dots.

"Why'd you take it out?"