The past months had felt like eternity.

An eternity that was slowly consuming whatever light was left inside both of them, an eternity that felt like dying slowly- painfully- and curelessely everyday. But since yesterday, it felt like the encompassing darkness wasn't the only thing surrounding them, not now. There was a bright light just in their reach– the one which had appeared since they both had agreed- wanted to give them a new chance.

And though healing isn't a switch someone can just flick on and off, but a gradual process, a process in which it would be necessary for both of them to not step on each other's broken pieces but also collect them slowly and stitch them back, sometime by adding some of their own. They both were feeling like they were in a more stable and happy place, knowing that now once again they have each other to rely on.

Tony fiddled with a stray thread of his AC/DC jacket, as he shifted slightly on the chair he was sitting on. His usual composure was absent– it had been absent since the last two months– as he watched Nora standing near the kitchen easel, the whirring of the coffee machine the only sound that reverberated in the otherwise silent common room.

The team had left the compound this morning with different excuses of work, with Natasha practically dragging away Steve to which the man didn't protest. It was to ease Nora nerves around Steve or to give them time for getting back on track– Tony wasn't sure which option they thought on. But he was grateful, because right now, when they had started to build that fragile bond back– slowly, the last thing he wanted was someone to come and steal her for some other task.

He had missed two months worth of time with her. He wanted to compensate for that.

He wanted to spend every other breathing moment with her for that.

There was so much to talk about, it's not like they had ever been short about topics to talk about. But now, there seems to be a wall between them, not in the sense as it was before but more of a cautious one. With either of them not sure how the other one had managed to forgive them for the things they had done, which in return had broken them and the other.

Or maybe it was just because there was much to say, and none of them really knew where to start.

"Coffee," her voice was soft, a gentle whisper in the silent background– a gentle whisper that still raged a storm inside his heart.

"Thank you," Tony said, as he reached for the cup on her hand, their fingers brushing for a moment that sent a warm series of tingles to his spine and if she ducked her head away for a moment, her hair covering her face was a clue she felt that too.

He stared at the coffee in his hand, the tendrils of mist rising above the surface slowly, as he stared back at his reflection in the black liquid. The tingly aroma of coffee teased his senses, but his fingers hesitated.

He wasn't able to touch this drink for the past two months.

Ironically, that was the time he had needed it the most.

And now, even though he knows with her in front of her, with the same coffee mug as his sitting just in front of him, he should be able to drink it but he wasn't really...sure. What if he wouldn't be able to? What if this would actually make him remember things he doesn't want to remember? Coffee had been basically the most vital and continuous connection they had built when she first came in the team.

And, he didn't want to break or taint that connection just because his stupid mind might join its taste and smell and existence with something traumatic.

Something traumatic like the coffee mug that belonged to her, and that still rests in his lab. The one which he had spent hours looking at wondering if somehow this all could be just a dream, the one his hand had tightened in more moments than once, the one which had anchored him and pushed him deeper in despair all at once.

"What happened?" her voice cut through his thoughts, as his eyes clashed with her's that was filled with uncertainty, concern and doubt, "do you– perhaps not like your coffee like this now? Um, I would change it if you want. I would make whichever type you would prefer,"

And here she was, worrying that he might not like the coffee he drank before, worried that she might have made the wrong one.

"No, no, it's alright, this is perfect," he said, shaking his head as his grip on the coffee mug tightened, the coffee inside swirling with the moments. He ran a hand through his face, wondering if he should tell her or not– at the last deciding to open up, "it isn't the coffee– and no, it's definitely not you so sit back down. I-" he gulped, releasing a frustrating sigh. Why did he have such stupid issues? Like seriously, What was he supposed to say? Oh, you see, I am worried that I might not be able to drink this coffee because my mind is a stupid bin of trauma. And I think due to this I might taint one of our starting pieces of connection. Just a classic story of trauma.

Good going, Stark.

She didn't say anything, but her gentle gaze and quiet patience coaxed him to continue.

"I...I didn't– couldn't drink coffee, while we were...while things were..." he gestured vaguely, the words sticking in his throat, "it remained me to much of you," He exhaled deeply, his fingers gripping the mug tighter, as if it could ground him. "And now, even though you're here, even though we're... trying again," he paused, swallowing hard, "I'm afraid that I might not be able to drink it."

Her brows furrowed slightly, her head tilting in confusion.

"What if I can't?" His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "What if I take a sip and all it does is bring back everything I've been trying to forget? Or worse, what if I can't drink it at all, and you think it's because of you?"

"Tony..."

"I know it sounds stupid," he said hurriedly, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the sharpness of his movements. "I know it's just coffee, but it's not just coffee. Not for us. It was..." He stopped, his throat tightening.

A beat of silence passed.

"It was ours," she finished softly, her voice trembling as her own emotions began to rise.

Tony let his head drop as he nodded, his grip tightening on the cup, "yes, it was ours," his voice cracked.

Her hand softly but tentatively rested against his after a moment of hesitation, as she slowly unwrapped it from the handle that was threatening to broke before resting hers upon his giving it a gentle squeeze, "I get it...I-" she looked away for a moment, her lips pressed in a straight line, "because it was the only thing I could drink in that time when we-..." her voice faltered before she shook her head, "when we were not us anymore. It was the only thing that still felt like a connection to you, like a connection to the broken pieces that still fit so perfectly, to the good times, the bad– but all of them with us together,"

His heart clenched painfully, her words striking a chord deep within him. The irony of it seemed like it was mocking them, where one of them couldn't touch that drink while the other barely drank anything else. He reached out instinctively, his hand covering hers as he leaned closer. "Nora..."

She finally met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "So, I guess what I mean to say is, I get it," she said, "I get why you're scared... but you don't have to be. Not anymore. I am not going to judge you or feel hurt because of something that is not even in your control,"

His gaze search her's to find any sign of uncertainty or doubt or even a flicker or hurt, but all he saw was concern and raw aching love. Aching because they were still healing, aching because it would mean they would get to know just how much their actions have hurt their other half, their partner, the love of their life, "But what if I can't?" he asked, in a quiet tone that was very rare for him.

"Then we will figure it out," she said her hand softly, hesitatingly brushed a strand of his hair from his forehead back, "together,"

He exhaled, before he gently removed her hand from his grasping the coffee mug and taking a cautious sip. That sip was tentative and cautious, he closed his eyes in the fear of the painful memories barging in– for them to revive the hole in his chest, the emptiness that her presence was healing– but nothing like that happened.

All he felt was the warm liquid soothing down his throat, leaving a sense of normalcy, comfort of–home. His home. Her.

He set the mug down, his eyes locking with hers. Filled with such childlike joy that her expression can't help but soften, "It's still ours," he said softly, as if rediscovering a piece of home he thought he'd lost. Her lips curved into a smile of her own, her hand reaching out to cover his again, "It always will be, then,"

And in that moment they knew that maybe the road to healing would be a slightly difficult one. Maybe getting back to the intimacy they had before– to kiss openly, to share a bed, to shower each other with endless affection would take time– would take weeks if not months.

But at the end– they would be finally back home.

Like they were now.

With each other. 

a/n; finally! the third act would be starting next with only three chapters and a epilogue left we would be biding my fav couple a happy goodbye- hopefully happy <3