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Bruce glanced down from the screen he was paying little attention to, “I, um, no… Just, respecting personal boundries?” he said hoping it was the right answer. He then glued his eyes back to the screen dropping his other arm onto the pillow above tony’s head, his muscles were getting sore.

The 17-year old misinterpretted Bruce's words, thinking he meant that he was disrespecting Bruce's personal boundries. He sat up quickly. "Sorry, I didn't think it would make you uncomfortable," he said apologetically, feeling like a total a**. 'Well /duh/ it bothered him', Tony thought to himself, 'you had your head in his goddamn lap. Think, Tony.'

Bruce continued to stare at the ground, though he released his knees a little bit, ” I, I dont know.” he muttered, “you just, left really quick and I thought I did something wrong and…” he frowned, “I dont know how to do this, I dont have friends, I mean I have jess… But she’s jess and ive known her forever I cant just mess that up.” he said sadly, “I dont know how im supposed to act and I thought I did something that was, too friendly.” he replied, he was just afraid he was getting too comfortable.

Despite the awkwardness, Tony felt himself smile at the other student. "There's no 'right way to act', just be yourself," he said. "I really like you; I wouldn't want you to be someone else," he added honestly, scooching back closer to his friend.

Bruce smiled, “im not a girl, so that shouldnt really be a problem should it?” he asked laying his head on tony’s shoulder tentatively, hoping it was okay but he didnt say anything so he assumed it was fine.

"Guess not," the 17-year old chuckled, and he set his head on top of Bruce's, glad they were past that little snag. He looked down and began doodling on the back of Bruce's hand with a finger.

“oh… alex will be home soon.” he noted, “and we should probably eat lunch shouldn’t we?” he asked with a smile, “unless you are too addicted to leave the couch.” he prodded, knowing that tony was enjoying this show, at least a little bit.

"Addicted to which now, the show or being cuddled up to you? Because one of those is more true than the other," Tony grinned mischievously, leaving it to Bruce to figure out which was which. "But yeah, I could totally go for some grub; I'm starving. That's kind of always the case though."

Bruce just stared at him strangely…”wait, what other kind of grilled cheese is there?” he asked confused out of his mind, walking into the kitchen with tony in hand. “and im not good, well not really but you learn to cook when you dont have a butler.” he said with a smile.

"You know, like the kind you get at a restaurant or whatever," Tony shrugged, motioning with his free hand that wasn't being held by Bruce. "My dad fired our chef years ago," he stuck out his tongue at the would-be remark on his affluence. He basically lived off take-out and frozen food that could be cooked easily in a microwave nowadays. "I bet you're awesome at cooking, you're just being humble," he nudged Bruce in the arm.

Bruce set about making grilled cheese, talking over his shoulder. “you know this is probably the best day ive had in a really long time.” he said with a smile, flipping the sandwich and stirring the soup. “thank you, it wouldnt have been the same without you.” he said honestly as he heard the door open, “alex is home.” he said with a smile, “HEY ALEX IM SORRY IF I THREW SOMETHING AT YOU THIS MORNING, … TONY GOT A PILLOW TO THE HEAD TOO JUST ASK HIM.” he yelled.

The sentiment returned a smile to the 17-year old's face. "You're welcome, it was my pleasure," he grinned. Tony turned about in his seat to chime in, "Yup, Brucie's got a mean arm-- nearly decked me!" He giggled evily upon using the nickname he knew Bruce didn't like.

Bruce laughed, a lot tony was just so adorable and he couldn’t even. “tony, take a breath… its grilled cheese.” he reminded him, he made it all the time and usually just when he wanted something quick. Though something told him even if he had made tony mac and cheese he would be this happy. “i declare that its about time someone actually fed you, so…I intend to kidnap you, hmm…” Bruce thought a moment, ” well pretty much all the time now that i think about it.” he said taking a bite of his grilled cheese. “hope you dont have a problem with it.” he laughed because he didnt really think tony would get much say in the matter in the end. He was going to come here and he was going to eat real food and Bruce was determined he would feel like part of a family even if it wasnt his own.

Tony was too busy devouring to 'take a breath', repeatedly dunking his sandwich into the soup to sop it up with the bread and deliver it to his mouth. It was just. So. Good. He could probably eat two more in succession, given the opportunity. When Bruce said the word 'kidnap', he faltered, face going somewhat pale as the source of his trauma bubbled to the surface of his consciousness... the way he'd been shoved into the back of a van at gun-point... ruthlessly gagged, burlap sack thrown over his face... clobbered over the back of the head and awakening in a dark, unfamilar room tied to a chair... Tony swallowed the bite in his mouth roughly, carefully setting the sandwich back on its plate, just taking a moment to recover from the flood of painful memories. He looked up at Bruce-- he knew the kid had only used the word as a joke-- and managed a smile. "I'd really like that actually."

Bruce just stared at him a moment, he knew that look, that fake smile. He had been doing it his entire life, hiding things. Hiding bruises, Broken bones, His sexuality, His disorder… He knew what that looked like. But he also knew what it felt like, what it felt like to have to put that face on, the shame, or guilt no matter how illogical. He frowned, reaching over to pull tony into a hug, effectively squishing the sandwich between them but he didnt particularly care. He hugged him tight, “I’ll listen when you feel comfortable telling me.” he said before pulling away and going back to eating his soup. Acting as if nothing had happened.

The 17-year old blinked, trying to figure out if he'd actually been that transparent. He started to speak, but his tongue was all in knots. "I-- thanks..." he just ended up saying lamely, though he did appreciate it, more than he could really say. He turned back to his soup, scooping out a spoonful and tipping the utensil to pour it back into the bowl, anxiously repeating the action several times. He felt like a hypocrite; Bruce had told him something deep and troubling from his past... something personal, but here he was holding out his own story... why? 'Because,' he reminded himself sternly, 'if you tell him he'll never look at you the same again. He'll know how weak and pathetic you are, that a hunk of junk your father built is the only thing keeping you from dying the way you /should/ have.' Tony felt tears building up in the corners of his eyes, which was exactly /not/ what he wanted Bruce to see. He struggled to keep it together, staring down at the kitchen table in hopes the other student wouldn't look over at him.