Something that had twisted painfully when Tony had first realized Wanda was gone, in his chest when Nick had given him that look at the party, and had wrenched only tighter when she got back was suddenly loosed in a breath. Tony hadn't even known it was there, but his shoulders dropped without it, and the orchid smell that seemed to just reek, coat his tongue and make him sick was a clear, redolent, ambrosial, was that just Wanda's perfume? Was she wearing perfume? His hands were at her waist and her cheek, and Tony wasn't going anywhere because all this time he had been watching her he had been wanting to touch her. He didn't know anything that would reassure him like tucking his face against her milky shoulder-- touching his cheek to her cool one-- his nose to her-- kissing-- "What'll you do to the guy that gives you a bigger rock?"
His hands on her hips, holding her and still tasting her breath and not moving away but finding some distance, that cocky grin. He wasn't going to return her desperation, there was no desperation to return. Apologies given and accepted.