WARNINGS: This is a slash pairing between two men and rated M. There are also mentions of child abuse and partner violence (see summary) so if either of those are triggers for you please turn back or proceed with caution.

A/N: This story was conceived pre IM 3 and written (mostly) pre CA 2 so it isn't compliant with either.

"What the fuck Rogers!" Clint yelled angrily, dropping down from God knows where and landing next to Iron Man's sprawled form. "Jesus Christ, did you even pull that punch?" He asked, no longer quite yelling, but certainly no less angry.

Everything was moving in slow motion, hazy and surreal. Steve's arm was still outstretched, across his body in follow through of the punch. Clint's words, and the fact that he had called him Rogers, not Cap or Captain while still in the field, took a moment to borrow through the resounding buzz in his brain, but as comprehension slowly came to light, Steve pulled his arm back towards his body, noticing with horror the shredded leather glove and the blood and scrapes on his knuckles.

It had been only moments, but Steve was trying to swallow down the rush of adrenalin and understand what had just happened, to believe that yes, he had completely lost control. The evidence was irrefutable; his hand was sore, torn and bloody, Tony was on the ground, spread eagle and unmoving and Clint was hovering over the familiar form encased in red and gold, one hand trying to get to Tony's neck and the other hovering over the small communicator in his ear, simultaneously calling for medics, trying to check for a pulse and glaring murderously at Steve.

Shaking his head in an effort to clear the haze, Steve looked from Clint to Tony, his mind rebelling from the facts of what had just happened. Bile rose in his throat, too thick and bitter to dispel in one swallow. It quickly replaced the adrenalin, as the truth of the situation sunk in. He had hit his friend, his teammate, his...lover (for lack of a better term) and he had hit him with nearly the full force of his superhuman strength.

The armor's faceplate was almost completely raised, though Steve was absolutely certain it hadn't been when he'd drawn his arm back for the blow. Regardless, it was raised now, sleek and undamaged, in a mocking parody of the face it had shielded moments ago. Now the sections of Iron Man's helmet extending from his temple to his chin, normally a means of protection and support, were crushed against Tony's face, into Tony's face. Twisted armor pierced the soft flesh at his hairline, cheekbone and jaw like some horrible metal claw ripping flesh and most likely the bone beneath. Blood was pooled around the ragged wounds and crimson droplets were spattered on the side of his nose, in his eyelashes and on his lips.

Steve wanted to turn away, to run, to be anywhere but here. His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps as the last of the adrenaline finally drowned in the sour acid, and the full and untainted reality of the scene became clear. Guilt quickly combined with the fury from minutes ago causing an intense wave of nausea to settle in his stomach, forcing him to double over. He needed to calm down and think; now was not the time to sort through the myriad of emotions racing through him. He was a leader due to his ability to compartmentalize and it was high time he get on with that. Tony was wounded, possibly critically, because of him.

"Pulse?" Bruce asked, sprinting past Steve and dropping to the ground beside Clint.

"Weak, I think, but…yes? I can't reach inside enough to really check without moving the helmet. He's not breathing normally though, we have to get the armor off before—in case he needs CPR any time soon." Clint's voice was steady, but Steve could see the fear in his eyes, even through the deadly glare fixed on him.

With an almost dizzying speed the soldier part of the supersoldier serum kicked in. His mind lurched into command mode and he would wait until later to dwell on the fact that Hawkeye had gotten there so much quicker than he had, both mentally and physically. A teammate was down, field triage was being done, medics were on their way and the scene had already been cleared before the…altercation.

As Banner and Barton methodically searched the armor for a release, trying not to move Tony at all, Steve took a step closer and said more softly than intended, "JARVIS?"

No response came from the suit. Steve wasn't sure if the faceplate needed to be intact for JARVIS to respond or if maybe the AI was damaged by the…attack. God, that thought had him reeling. He couldn't dwell on that, not now, he had to concentrate.

"JARVIS?" He tried once more, in what he hoped was a more authoritative tone, though it was possibly laced with impending panic and the need to vomit… and still no response.

"Right, Christ….I forgot about JARVIS." Clint had barely finished speaking when the cool, clipped and distinctly British response came.

"I am assisting you now Agent Barton."

"JARVIS, thank God, are you releasing the armor somehow? We need to get it off him."

There was a very faint click and even fainter whirring sound as the Iron Man suit seemed to expand minutely. "Carefully locate the small lever inside, just above the chest plate. The helmet should not be removed until medical assistance is on the scene, ETA is forty-five seconds."

Steve might be naive, but he wasn't stupid. JARVIS had blatantly ignored him…twice. He knew the AI's first, and only really, loyalty was to Tony, and he knew JARVIS had a personality that could mirror his maker's at times, snarky, temperamental, and sarcastic. But Tony's life could be on the line and JARVIS had refused to even acknowledge him. He had responded to Barton, yes, but what if no one else had been on the scene, what then?

He didn't have time to ponder the answer, or the surge of amalgamated guilt/anger at his own question as the medical transport screeched to a stop nearby and he heard the medics rushed approach. Clint assisted in pulling the armor pieces free as the medics skillfully lifted Tony onto a stretcher. Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to force himself to move and help…this was his fault; he had done this and that was something he hadn't thought himself even capable of.

Snapping out of it, Steve took a step to follow, but was halted abruptly by Clint's palm, held up in the universal symbol for stop, and his unmistakable 'don't mess with me right now or I'll put an arrow through your eye' scowl. Jesus, what the hell had he done? Tony was hurt, very hurt and both the archer and the artificial intelligence seemed not to be speaking to him, and that was putting it so, so mildly.

"Captain?" Natasha's sharp tone pulled him from his thoughts, God he was a mess right now, but he turned and nodded a quick response to indicate that she had his attention.

"Hawkeye and Banner are riding with Stark, he's in good hands." Steve thought he could hear the unspoken now at the end of her statement. "Let's get this armor locked down and back to the tower. Stark will kill us if we leave it to S.H.E.I.L.D to take care of." She continued matter-of-factly, in that detached, professional way she had in the field, and out of it, if truth be told.

He wanted to argue, to go to HQ right away with Tony. But Natasha was right about the Iron Man armor. Tony would never forgive them…forgive him, if they left it to Fury's men. He was aware enough of the situation to realize he would need Tony's forgiveness for at least one thing that happened today. Every other event from the day threatened to derail his progress, creep back into the forefront of his mind and demand to be recognized and dealt with. He would make time for that soon, but Tony first.

The complete irony of that thought did not escape him.

He and Natasha didn't speak at all as they underwent the task or reassembling and securing the Armor. It wasn't until the familiar form had been loaded into a S.H.I.E.L.D. transport and the shaking agent had handed her the keys to the vehicle and quickly stepped away that she softly touched Steve's arm and asked, even more gently, "Are you okay?"

He really wasn't. He scrubbed a hand over his face in an effort to collect himself before replying.

"Not really—no." There were so many different thoughts going on inside him that he didn't know how he felt, but okay wasn't even on the list.

"Do you want to talk about it Steve?" Natasha asked on the drive to the tower. She hadn't addressed him as captain, and he knew her well enough to see that she was upset, there was no mistaking that, but she was giving him the chance to explain before passing judgment.

"No. Yes…" He wasn't even sure how to begin.

"Okay, I'll start," she said, sensing his loss for what to say and how much she actually knew. "I know something has been going on between you two for the past few months. He's been different...better. I don't mean a better person; he's still a bit of an asshole and a shameless egomaniac, but better about the showboating, the unnecessary risks in the field, and better at following orders." She arched an immaculate eyebrow, "well, your orders not Fury's, of course."

"I just—just lost it. I didn't mean to hit him so hard, and I swear his faceplate was down, he should have stumbled, or fallen maybe, but I thought the suit would protect him." It sounded like such a lame excuse even to his own ears, but maybe getting it out verbally would help with the underlying burn of nausea. Not that he thought he deserved to feel better, but telling the truth, no matter how weak it seemed now was the right thing to do. "He makes me so angry sometimes, and confused…he knows what to say and how to push, and he just keeps prodding until I stop bending, he knows just how far to go until I push back until one of us breaks. Today it was me who broke, but I never meant for this to happen." It all came out in a rush, guilt spilling out freely before he was even aware that he planned to say anything of the sort.

"You two have been at each others throats before, and trust me, I know what it feels like to want to punch Stark in the face, but today was different. His comm. was still on Steve, I heard what he said, and I don't see how Tony telling you he loves you or making disparaging comments about Howard or himself is different from any other day." He flinched away from the window as she passed a double parked car with barely inches to spare, but she must have thought he was flinching at her words, because she sighed loudly and continued, "okay, maybe it was a bit more of a rant than usual, and the real sentiment was buried deep beneath his self-deprecating bullshit and insults" she conceded as she ran a yellow light and swerved around an over eager pedestrian before turning to him again. "But it's not my business unless you want it to be."

"He's never said that to me before, well some of the stuff about Howard yes, but not I—the other thing." He let his head fall back against the headrest and sighed deeply. "Howard is always such a raw nerve for Tony, like he just can't accept the fact that we were friends…could he really have changed that much?"

"Steve—"

"I mean, you say you heard him. He said Howard was a bully—a bully Natasha. I knew him and I know Tony and if I had to say which one I thought was the bigger bully it wouldn't be Howard." He just couldn't imagine the elder Stark being anything but intelligent, concerned and helpful. He had cared so much about protecting the soldiers with newer and better weapons, about helping Peggy and himself and his men, had comforted Steve after Bucky died. Sure, maybe he had been busy when Tony was growing up, working hard and expecting the same of his brilliant son, but did that warrant Tony's absolute disdain for the man? Maybe Howard had been unwilling to deal with his son's enormous ego, or support the partying and carousing, but did that make him a bad man, a bully? After getting to know him, he couldn't really accuse Tony of it either, but it had been rough in the beginning. That was as much his fault too, he realized, but the younger Stark's personality was certainly a lot more uncompromising than his father's.

"Steve," Natasha said again, then paused to see if he would let her continue this time. "A lot of time passed between the version of Howard that you knew and the one that Tony did. People change and it isn't always for the better." She sighed deeply, but continued quickly, not wanting this to be a debate about Howard Stark. "Is that all this is about?"

He knew what she was asking, and he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her about that, but he was sure that sooner or later he would want—need someone to talk to. She was most likely his only option. Clint and Tony were very close recently and the archer hadn't needed words to relay just how upset he was at Steve. Bruce was a question mark; there was always the chance of him hulking out when one of his teammates was hurt, especially at the one who had done the hurting. Thor was away, in either New Mexico or Asgard, he wasn't sure which this time or when he would return. By default, he decided to trust her with this. He thought what was between he and Tony was private, but there was nothing he could do about the fact that the others now knew, and he didn't want to go back to the way it had been just after he'd woken up, lonely and stricken with grief and no one to really talk to about it, about anything. Natasha was his friend, one of the few he'd had in a very long time.

"You're right; there has been something between us for a while now." He took a deep breath; surprised that it felt good to finally tell someone. "I was wrong about what I said to him that day on the helicarrier, he is a hero and he is willing to sacrifice himself, more than necessary actually."

She snorted, quite unladylike really, then smiled. "Yeah, I know what you mean." She didn't say anything else, but the quirk of her lip told him she expected him to continue.

"I was—am attracted to him. He's an attractive man, most of the time." And he really, really was, whether wearing an immaculately tailored suit or ripped, oil-stained jeans and a ratty rock band t-shirt, but sometimes the things that came out of his mouth made him a little less attractive. "I kissed him one day in his lab. His eyes were so bright and playful and his body was literally vibrating with laughter and energy and I couldn't help myself. The real surprise was the way he kissed me back." Steve took a moment to smile at the memory, a smile that didn't go unnoticed by Natasha.

He had just wanted to come and thank Tony for the amazing punching bag recently installed in the gym. The inventor hadn't said anything about it, but Steve knew it could only be from him. Four days, nearly fourteen hours of hard, serum enhanced workouts hadn't left the bag looking anything other than brand new. He could see Tony on the far side of the room talking animatedly to some robots, laughing and gesturing wildly as his creations wheeled around. When he turned at hearing someone approach, Steve's breath caught in his throat. Tony looked easier and happier than he'd ever seen him, but more than that, he saw something so familiar in the other man…something he missed sorely and longed for desperately. He was caught completely off guard by those big, dark eyes, so like Peggy's in the depth of their expression and steely glint of determination. At the same time like Bucky's too though, twinkling devilishly and full of mischief. And there was so much Howard there as well, an effortless and charismatic grace despite the manic energy radiating from him. In that moment Tony was so much like the people he missed most in this new world. For the first time in weeks the hollow ache in his chest loosened…he was completely mesmerized.

He knew he was staring and could see Tony start to shut down, transform back into the abrasive, confrontational person he had come to know. "Hey, Cap." Tony said brightly, striding towards him. "What brings you down here?" Then more agitated when no reply came, "and why are you staring at me…never seen a guy play Simon Says with his bots before?" Steve could hear the derisiveness creeping into the words and he didn't want that. He wanted the easy going, silly and strangely familiar Tony from moments ago.

"Hel-lo, Captain Starstruck…"

Tony was still walking towards him, mocking him now and he wanted to change that, wanted to see a glimpse of what he had before, needed to stop him from saying more and breaking the spell. He took a step forward, then another, meeting Tony half way. The smug look on the genius' face turned to one of confusion and then one of stunned disbelief as Steve reached out, placing his palm on the other's cheek and running his thumb back and forth over dark under eye circles. He could feel Tony gearing up to speak, something nasty most likely, but he held the smaller man's gaze as his hand slid into to the thick, dark waves, slowly pulling him forward. Steve only hesitated for half an instant, giving Tony the chance to back away. When he didn't, Steve leaned in the last few inches and kissed him. Good Lord, Tony's lips were so soft and incredibly warm despite the cool temperature of the room. Unsurprisingly, he tasted like coffee, but with an underlying hint of coconut. It was an interesting combination, and just about the best thing he'd ever tasted. Even if he'd tried, he couldn't stop himself from moving his free hand up to cup the other side of Tony's face, bringing him closer as Steve opened his mouth further in an effort to taste even more.

A small moan came loose from his throat as Tony's hands found their way to his hips. His fingers were as warm as his mouth, spreading heat and initiating a sudden throb of lust. He was so out of his element, completely unprepared for the sensations threatening to overwhelm him. His previous experience with this was pitiful, but those few times had been similar to each other and had made up his entire working knowledge of intimacy with another person. This, kissing Tony Stark, wasn't even in the same hemisphere. When he had been kissed before, there had been either aggression or desperation or both as a motivating factor. This was slow, languid and indulgent and so surprisingly unlike the Tony he knew. He figured the playboy would be fast, pushy and all hands, but Tony was willingly taking, and wonderfully returning only what Steve was giving. He had never imagined that any kiss could be better than the one shared between him and Peggy, except maybe a longer, less goodbye like kiss with her.

Thinking about Peggy right then was like dousing himself with cold water, effectively chasing away the almost uncomfortable warmth between Tony and himself. He pulled first his lips and then his hands away from his teammate and took a step back to get himself in check. The look on the billionaire's face was captivating. He looked younger and so relaxed, those amazing eyes were sparkling. He needed to leave, now…

"Anyways…" he paused to clear his throat, "he didn't push me away, and things grew from there. I really never meant for it to happen, it wasn't premeditated." He sighed deeply and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Once, I just closed my eyes and woke up seventy years later... everyone I knew or loved was gone. I decided the day we sent Loki home with Thor that I wouldn't let chances pass me by again, I wouldn't be afraid of what I wanted from this new life, from my second chance. I just don't want to sit around and wait until the time is right anymore because that time may never come or everything could be gone when it finally does."

He was speaking in a rush again, embarrassed at having admitted his attraction and its results with a man, but Natasha had been one of the people to help bring him up to date on certain things, and homosexuality and its acceptance (mostly) had been something she emphasized as a positive. He knew it wasn't right though, and no matter how accepted it was, it was still a sin in the eyes of his church. That hadn't stopped him though, he had wanted to kiss Tony and he had.

"It's not a relationship, well, not that kind. It never was, I never intended for it to be and I don't think he did either. You know how Tony is with women, with relationships in general. It was casual, and not exclusive." They had never talked about that, but to him this was like some of the fellas during the war, seeking comfort in the arms of a friend. He had a hard time imagining that the playboy saw it any differently. Anyhow, he didn't have time right now for the finer details, a quick debrief of the situation would have to do, they were nearing the tower and he needed to have a conversation with JARVIS before he headed to HQ.

With renewed purpose he continued with the facts. "I met an agent at S.H.I.E.L.D a few weeks ago and today she kissed me after we left the conference room. Tony saw it, and he wasn't happy. That's why he said he loves me, but he didn't mean it. He was just reacting to the fact that someone might want more than just him, and his ego can't take it." He unbuckled his seat belt as she turned the car into the underground garage.

"I take those words very seriously, and he just throws them around as a mockery…that combined with his intentional taunts about Howard…" he trailed off, embarrassed, not wanting to finish the sentiment. She knew where he was going with it anyways and spared him a quick and possibly sympathetic glance as she parked the car, but made no movements other than shutting it off. He could feel her eyes on him again, but opened his door and moved to exit the car.

"Steve," she started, but he didn't wait to hear the rest. They could continue this later, after the armor was put away and he could see Tony for himself. Talking about this thing between them left him feeling edgy.

"I'll take this inside," he indicated the lifeless armor. "I need to have a word with JARVIS anyways."

Her face softened a miniscule amount before she said, "I'll wait ten minutes before I head to HQ to check on him. If you don't come back by then I assume I'll see you there later."

He gave a small nod instead of speaking and turned to the panel beside the door to the lab, placing his palm on the scanner. He wasn't sure if he even still had access, but he could speak to JARVIS from here if he had to, he just preferred a little more privacy.

Luckily the door slid silently open, but he knew it was more for the return of the armor JARVIS' creator coveted than an invitation for Steve. Even Dummy seemed unhappy with him. The robot usually came wheeling up joyfully, clicking and whirling about but now he merely lifted his head (claw?) briefly and then turned his back (strut?) on him. But this was one more thing he would push to the corners of his mind for now and pull out later to dissect in detail.

"JARVIS," he said sternly. He wasn't petty enough to argue with the AI, but he was angry and this was a sort of dressing down in the making. This was something they needed to work out. "Why didn't you answer me when Tony needed your assistance?"

"Sir received the necessary assistancedespite my lack of response to you Captain Rogers," came the reply, laced with contempt.

Steve took a moment to fully appreciate, yet again, Tony's brilliance that he could create what was essentially a machine but was so lifelike, so human. As far as he knew JARVIS was the only AI of his kind in the world, ridiculously advanced and equally as smart and sharp tongued as his creator. That didn't take the sting out of it though. JARVIS hadn't called him Captain Rogers in months. He was usually addressed as Steve in the tower and Captain in the field.

"Clint didn't even address you directly, he mentioned your name and you chose to reply." Okay, so maybe he was feeling slightly more petty than usual. He shook the feeling off for now. "Regardless, what if Hawkeye hadn't been there…would you have helped me then? I need to know I can count on you when Tony is unresponsive."

"For your information, Captain Rogers…" there was no mistaking the venom in the tone, "I was already running scans on Sir, checking his vital signs to ascertain whether he would indeed require CPR as agent Barton mentioned. I was about to aid in the removal of the armor without your involvement. It appeared to me that you had helped quite enough." And a very uncomfortable pause later, "And I was unsure if your presence was still a threat to Sir, seeing how it was you who brought about the event in question."

Wow. If JARVIS had a physical form, Steve would be stepping back from it now. This was more than learned anger and simulated feelings. There was undisguised hatred and possibly slightly disguised malice in every syllable. Even through his shock at being spoken to like that, Steve couldn't help feeling good that Tony had someone as amazing as JARVIS watching his back.

"Are you monitoring him now?" Steve asked contritely, none of the former authority in his voice. He wasn't too proud to admit that he had been the one to get the dressing down, in a way even Fury couldn't manage. He knew he deserved it too.

"I fail to see how that is any longer your concern, Captain Rogers." The dismissive statement told him all too clearly that this discussion was over. He could point out that despite his personal relationship, he was still the leader of this team and one of his men was down. Thinking about how that teammate had been downed, however, wasn't something he wanted to do or further discuss with the AI at the moment.

Besides, he knew it was as futile to argue with JARVIS as it sometimes was with Tony. He turned and exited the lab without further comment and raced down the stairs to catch Natasha.

oOoOoOo

Things at HQ were hectic; well, more hectic than usual. In light of the recent situation with Tony, Steve had almost forgotten about the attack that brought the Avengers out in the first place. Now agents were scurrying about, some with armfuls of paperwork or some form of tech and some with the telltale finger pressed to their ear indicating they were receiving information through their comms.

He and Natasha walked purposefully through the halls to the medical bay, occasionally having to move aside for a rushing agent or two. It was after one of those times, when they were pressed against the wall to clear the way for a group of running junior agents, that she lightly grabbed his wrist.

He looked down to where her long fingers were wrapped around him, then let his eyes rise to her face. Her expression gave nothing away, as usual, but she said in the soft voice she had used with him since the…well, since earlier, "He'll be okay—he's always okay, and he's been through some pretty horrible stuff."

She meant it too. Stark had survived so much, and had earned her grudging respect in the process. He would survive this too, because there was no way that bullheaded son of a bitch would let Steve get the last word in any argument. He put up such a front that it wasn't easy to get the make of him, know what made him tick, besides science, but she felt she knew him pretty well now. She would bet anything, and she'd never, ever lost a bet, that Tony had meant what he said to Steve. He was not, she was certain, the type to throw around words like "I love you." Not in that situation anyways…sure, to the coffee maker, his tailor, his robots or even Pepper or JARVIS on more than one occasion…but not with someone he was sleeping with. He was not intentionally hurtful with the handful of people he cared about. That didn't mean he wasn't a complete moron though.

She had watched Tony's eyes linger on Steve when he left the room and his straighter stance, softer features and crooked grin when Steve sat beside him in the briefing room, or on the couch, and she did know him well enough to see all the little things he tried so hard to hide. He was in love with their captain, and Steve had, so very literally, thrown it back in his face. But she knew Steve too, and he was obviously overwhelmed right now, angry and hurt and brimming with remorse. He was an even bigger idiot than Stark about this, but he hadn't meant to really hurt him.

"I hope so, Natasha…wait, worse than this?" Steve had read Tony's file, had read all their files on the tablet Agent Colson had presented him with. Tony's and Thor's were by far the thinnest, but he hadn't read anything that justified Natasha's statement. Tony wasn't exactly forthcoming with details of his life prior to joining the Avengers, always saying anything worth knowing was available on the internet. And all discussions of his youth inevitably ended with them arguing about Howard.

"Okay, maybe not worse, but bad. Most of it is in his—oh, right, Stark edits his own file on a frighteningly regular basis." There was a very slight upturn to the corner of her lip that he recognized as her fighting a smile. "No one here has been able to catch him when he hacks in, sometimes I think he does it just to piss Fury off and prove he's better than anyone here at that stuff."

"Yeah, that sounds like him." He actually wanted to smile too when he pictured Tony pulling one over on Fury like that, but he didn't. He couldn't help but remember that first day on the helicarrier, Tony's casual and total disregard for all things top secret.

"Afghanistan...and after, I'll get you a copy of his complete file, a paper copy, but don't tell him—ever, it stays between us that we keep up to date paper files on him around here, the computer files are more of a decoy really. Fury should have realized that." She was smiling now. "Can you picture how affronted he would be by something so "archaic"?

Now he couldn't help but return her smile. That would be a very comical look of shock and outrage on the otherwise handsome face of the futurist. He let his forehead fall against the wall, releasing a shaky breath. The thought of that handsome face brought with it a wave of guilt as the events of the day threatened, once again, to overcome him. He swallowed it down and set off towards the med bay, grateful when he heard Natasha move to follow without saying anything else.