"If I waited a minute longer, people would've died, Rogers!"

Tony deflected Steve's punch and pushed perhaps harder than he intended to. Steve staggered but regained his balance quickly enough, angry glare in place. Tony launched himself again, going on the offensive this time as Steve blocked incoming blows with his forearms. They were at the gym, training. It started one fine evening when Steve caught Tony blending fruits for a smoothie and had casually asked for a spar. To his surprise Tony said simply, "Sure, why not?" But it did not end there; when Tony wanted a break from his tinkering he would invite Steve down to the gym. There were punches and bodies thrown around but nothing really serious, like aim-to-maim serious. This time felt different. A little bit heated, if Tony could say so as he panted in between rapid jabs and kicks.

For two weeks now, the Avengers had taken residence up on the Helicarrier. It sort of just happened, considering that Tony brought only an extra shirt with him, expecting this to be a short visit – two days tops. Fury wanted to officially introduce him to the rest of the people he was supposed to play nice with. Meetings with Earth's mightiest heroes? How thrilling. His escort missed the eye-roll when a phone call came through. It sounded like the agent on the other end had just secured one Dr Bruce Banner. Tony casually asked if he knew who the rest of the ensemble were.

"You'll see, Mr Stark."

When he entered the meeting room, the dull murmurs among the attendance died instantly. All eyes were on him and he felt somewhat out of place, and that was saying something. He spotted Dr Banner at the far end of the room skulking in a corner. A figure shifted slightly to his right and Tony turned. Ah, Captain America himself, the man out of time.

"Mr Stark," Steve greeted.

"Cap."

Steve's piercing blue eyes were fixed on him. Tony saw something stirred behind them, almost like a glimmer of familiarity but decided not to dwell on it. When the world was shaken with the news of Captain America (in suspended animation) on the way home from the Artic, Tony shared the people's elation. He knew about the discovery much earlier though; Phil had called from one of SHIELD's quarters when Steve, still encased in his coffin of ice, was being trawled up from the waters. And that was not the last he heard of the works. The fanboy he was, Phil updated Tony on Steve's progress daily as if he would just combust if he could not share this euphoria with somebody. Eventually the wait was over and Steve woke up. Phil said he was fine, a bit disoriented but way calmer than they had anticipated and seemed to accept the fastforward-70-years-welcome-to-the-future fact amazingly well. Phil eventually asked if Tony would like to come down for a visit. It might be distressful for Steve, but for Tony he could pull some strings and see what he could do.

Tony declined the offer.

So this was truly the first time he was seeing Captain America in the flesh. Phil was not exaggerating; Steve looked perfect for a recently-thawed super soldier. No frostbites, nose still intact and all. When he realised that Steve was still watching him, he promptly pulled a chair and sat in it. It was still early, just slightly after two o'clock, and Tony was hoping Fury would quickly wrap up the meeting so he could go back to upgrading Iron Man's boots. But who was he kidding, of course SHIELD had detected peculiar electromagnetic signatures from different parts of the Earth and the Avengers were now on-call for potential threats.

Tony doubted how much a hastily put together team could achieve. He doubted they could even win a three-legged (seven-legged actually, but details…) race right now. Bruce called them a time bomb just waiting to explode. Very astute. Tony smirked and surveyed the rest of the Avengers. Natalie – well, Natasha, as it were – was the only familiar face in the room. See, she was Pepper's secretary – lady had an outstanding CV who also bested Happy at boxing – and then there was this little incident where she jabbed him in the neck with lithium dioxide and was actually a SHIELD agent all along. He quickly decided to un-know the Widow, and then stay at least a six feet away from her. He smiled at Bruce who was now trying to blend into the wall, and Bruce nervously returned it. This one was a bird of a feather. He had known Bruce from the articles, mostly the kind that publish works on medical genetics, but also the kind that say a big green thing just flattened Harlem. If he was in a better mood he would have been psyched about the God of Thunder gracing this meeting. Thor was sitting broodingly among them, the legendary Mjolnir leaning innocently against the table. The fourth member of the Avengers – also in-house killer archer if he understood Fury's intro correctly – Clint Barton was seated on Thor's immediate left, also projecting solemnity.

And then there was Cap. He used to worship the guy as a child, collected his posters and cards. Yet all there was to Steve was nothing more than a childhood superhero who somehow found his way to the present and inserted himself into Tony's life.

They were not a team. They barely knew each other.

The following day after breakfast, Tony was ready to drop the crazies and resume the normalcy of his life. It was Steve who reminded him that Fury did not say it was OK to leave. Naturally he replied, "Who cares, Fury doesn't always get what he wants," and he noted the muscle in Steve's jaw twitched. He left the kitchen but decided to stay on board for another day. Then he stayed for another, and another. Working here had its benefits; Bruce appreciated science on a similar level and Tony enjoyed his intellectual company. Before long, it was already his eighth day of this delightful staycation on the Helicarrier. Breakfast that day was uneventful when Natasha suddenly stiffened and pressed a hand to her left ear, appearing to be listening to something intently. When she was off the communicator, she turned to address the Avengers; SHIELD sensors had registered a major shift in gravitational forces in Boston and onlookers reported "distortions, like street lights and the side of buildings curving every few seconds." Bruce was on his feet the very next moment.

"We have to clear the area out. If space itself is distorted… we are not going to like what's coming out of it when it tears."

A fucking wormhole in the middle of a city at nine in the morning?

They arrived a little too late, however. Instead of a portal, there was a crater the size of a basketball court where a hotdog joint probably used to be; the signboard "Joe's Hot" was all that was left along with half-eaten hotdogs strewn around, almost as if tossed aside in favour of getting the hell away from these things that were currently uprooting trees and smashing cars. Clint described them best – giant orang utan with tentacles. Or GOUT, to make it pronounceable. Steve swung around to face his team and started devising counter strategies. Tony was to herd them into a park two blocks down where Hulk and Thor would be waiting for a melee, no holds barred. Barton would have his eyes on the perimeter from fifteen-storey high, calling patterns and taking down potential ground enemies. Steve and Natasha were on crowd control duties.

It was all going smoothly until JARVIS alerted him of a rogue GOUT a short distance away from the pack. Tony's plate was full; ushering the GOUTs into one spot also meant having all their monster powers concentrated on the Hulk and Thor. He shot at them every few seconds to distract them when they got too close for comfort, and then flew out of reach when those blasted tentacles tried to swat him from the sky. A corner of his HUD blinked red; the rogue GOUT was in very close proximity to a school bus packed with twenty screaming children. He had JARVIS pull up the battle statistics of each Avenger, swiftly assess the likelihoods of combat fatalities, and then charged supersonic towards the opposite direction all in under ten seconds. This GOUT was different from the ones curb stomping in the park though; it was smaller, had a lighter tan to its hide and was pointing a glowing tentacle at the bus. Tony did not wait to find out what it was trying to do; he took aim and fired at it dead in the head.

Steve was unimpressed.

"What's your problem, really? The kids were saved and the portal was shut for good. I'm calling it a win!"

"It's your method that's the problem, Stark!"

Steve threw a punch which collided with the side of Tony's arm. The blow was harder than the one before, and Tony was starting to feel a blunt ache in his bones where Steve's hits had made contact. Steve was livid all right, his jaw was set and his brows were knitted. His next words came in low growls, obviously trying but failing to reign in anger, "Every time you pull macho stunts like that you put the team at risk. When you vacate your position in battle, the unit's plan becomes meaningless."

"What, I'm supposed to let the kids die?"

Tony charged forward again, hammering Steve with quick punches that were getting weaker as his knuckles throb against Steve's defences. Out of breath, Tony faltered in his steps, and Steve seized the opportunity; he swiped away Tony's incoming punch and arrested the wrist. With the upper body unguarded Steve snuck an open-palmed hit against Tony's side.

For a moment Tony was sure Steve was going to be kill him. With his wrists in a lock, he could not parry nor at least cushion the force; he took it full on and felt something snap inside him. His vision whited out and his knees gave way. In that split second Steve released him and Tony was not quite aware when he hit the ground.

"You were not on a solo mission. You were given an order, stick to it."

Tony cracked his eyelids open. Steve was standing over him, fuming, but had otherwise dropped his fighting stance. "This overconfidence of yours is going to cost us someday."

Breathing was painful, Tony realised. Steve seemed oblivious to the fact. Still the indignity of having to take harsh criticism for making the right call was all he could think of. He propped himself up on one elbow. Ignoring the flaring agony in his side, he hissed, "You think I don't care?"

"Do you?"

Steve stalked off as Tony rolled back onto the floor. The door closed heavily behind Steve and Tony glared at the high ceiling, wondering how any of this crap was his fault.

The next morning was awkward. Tony was not looking forward to talking to the Avengers but coffee abstinent meant headache and Tony was dealing with enough misery already. He was dismayed to find everyone huddled around the lone island in the kitchen, silently appraising him. He limped past them, pretending not to see anyone at all and hunted for the coffee pot. Empty, of course. His side started throbbing and he froze, willing it to subside.

"Coffee jar is in the upper cabinet, second from the left."

Natasha took a sip from her steaming mug and regarded Tony suspiciously from above its rim. He muttered a quick thank you. From the tail of his eye he caught Steve watching him with an expression of either vague concern or curiosity. Tony ignored him and reached up, the stabbing ache becoming more persistent as he scrabbled for the coffee jar.

"You want a box to stand on?" Clint chuckled as he appeared out of nowhere and threw an arm over Tony's shoulders.

The sudden weight of Clint leaning into him knocked his balance off and he slumped against the counter. Cold sweat was starting to form and he knew he just had to get away. His eyes briefly met Steve's; there was a slight crumple in between his brows as he chewed absently at his toast.

"OK, fun time's over," he said hoarsely, waving Natasha away as she was about to speak. "I've got to get back to work. See you guys later."

And then he left as fast as he could, morning coffee be damned.

The rest of the Avengers traded questioning looks. Steve sighed, and he put his half-bitten toast down. "I'll go check on him."

When Steve exited the kitchen, Tony was already nowhere to be seen. The Helicarrier had a lab downstairs and he wondered if Tony was headed there. He took the left turn and then he saw him, a dark silhouette half-hunching over a water cooler. Steve closed their distance effortlessly but Tony did not seem to hear the approaching taps of Steve's SHIELD-issued military boots.

"Hey, you OK?" Steve called out.

He noticed how Tony seemed to go rigid for a split second before straightening up, a tight grin plastered over his pallid face.

"Cap! Just can't stay away, can you?"

The last two weeks they had gotten to know each other, Tony came across as a proud man. It translated to how he conduct himself around people, an ever lingering air of haughtiness which Steve find mildly off-putting. It did however remind him of Howard from those days. It was annoying, but in a really strange sense just as comforting. Today though that arrogance was diminished as Tony wore a perpetual grimace and breathed too shallowly for comfort.

"Where does it hurt?" Steve asked. Tony waved his hand again, probably telling him to can it and mind his own business. It would have been more convincing if not for the passing wince when he pushed himself off the water cooler. Steve deftly caught Tony by the elbow and looped the arm over his own shoulders.

"No more games, Stark. We're going to the infirmary."

They hobbled down the corridor in silence. When Tony started to waver and Steve instinctively braced his waist, Tony groaned and had to take a full minute to collect himself. He shot Steve a glower he intended to look venomous, and if Steve's troubled expression was anything to go by, he knew he must be in a pretty bad shape.

Tony breathed a sigh in relief when he sniffed the strong whiff of antiseptic; medical was mere doors away. Steve lowered Tony down on an unoccupied gurney. The doctor on-duty only needed to see the awkward gait and the stiffness in how Tony was propping himself up. When he was told to remove his shirt, Tony became fully aware of Steve still standing in their immediate vicinity. His blue eyes were now brimming with guilt, and Tony figured playing evasive did not matter anymore. He gingerly unbuttoned his shirt. When they parted to reveal a large splotch of blue and green over the left side of his ribs, Steve grimaced visibly.

A nurse hustled him out of treatment room and drew the curtain around the gurney. Tony hoped Steve would take the hint and leave, he had done enough – more, in fact – and Tony would like to nurse his ribs alone in peace. There was the prodding and the probing and the thousand and one questions that followed and Tony either nodded, shook his head or shrugged indifferently. He knew he would be benched from future Avengers activities, at least for the next three weeks or so. He took the bottle of Ibuprofen the doc handed him and sighed. What would Steve do next? Would he ask Fury to put together a line-up of reserve superheroes? To replacecore Avengers if they were suddenly… indisposed? The doc waved him off and Tony found himself shuffling tentatively to the exit. Steve was still waiting for him; he was pacing the waiting room. He looked up and asked, "What did the doctor say?"

Tony deliberated on his answer. He looked down at his chest and realised he skipped a button on his shirt.

"Seem to have cracked a couple of ribs."

"They look fresh. And we were not on duty lately."

"Look, Cap –"

"I did this, didn't I? At the gym."

"It's fine. I'm fine! I've been through worse, I promise you."

He flashed his trademark megawatt smile and patted Steve's arm. Then he turned on his heels and was soon gone.

After the GOUTs, SHIELD's radars had gone eerily quiet. Could be the calm before the storm, Clint had suggested darkly but as far as Steve was concerned, SHIELD had no more business keeping them here any longer than necessary. He thought of Tony mostly; now with extra-terrestrial threats subdued, he still had a company to run. But he knew Tony was on board since he had just used his ID to clear lab security at six this morning. Sometimes he went completely off the grid, only to have his presence reaffirmed from the occasional blips on the screen whenever he used his ID.

It took Tony four more days to be physically present at lunch. He was still in a dress shirt, so Steve figured either Tony had a penchant for them, or it still hurt too much to pull a T-shirt on. Tony was in a pretty good mood, probably the best for as long as Steve could recall since they came aboard. He joked, and then he engaged in deep discussion about quantum foam with Bruce, and then he joked some more. He even spared Steve a curt nod before he dug into his pie and listened to Bruce rapturously.

That night, Steve decided to turn in later than usual. Fury had asked for a brief meeting sometime after dinner. Steve appreciated the cut-to-the-chase-no-nonsense approach Fury was infamous for; he had asked if the Avengers Initiative was progressing as it should be, and if not, was the problem pronounced "STARK" and were they able to defend Earth as her mightiest heroes, right here, right now? Steve had replied yes, no and no which got Fury to raise his brows, but he did not press further and dismissed him on that note. As he walked to his assigned quarters, he recalled the most recent battle they partook as a team. Steve's confidence begun to depreciate. His mind flitted to Tony. He had the genius of his father before him and the insatiable inquisitiveness that ran in the family. But sometimes in the heat of the battle, there was no room for what's and why's, and certainly not two people calling the shots.

"Isn't is past bedtime for you?"

Steve looked up. Tony had a smirk playing on his lips. He was leaning against the doorframe, his posture relaxed. His dress shirt was crumpled and the top two button was undone, the soft glow of his arc reactor peeking from his collar. Tony looked like he had just crawled out of bed, only morning was several hours more to go.

"Can't sleep?" Steve asked instead.

Tony ran his hand through his hair and got himself a glass with water. He plopped into the vacant chair beside Steve and drank in silence. Although the kitchen light was dimmed, with Tony sitting this close, Steve could see traces of tremor raking his body. His breathing was shallow and the colour from his visage was gone.

"You're hurting again," Steve said. Tony looked at him sideways, his lips just hovering over the rim of his glass.

"It hurts to breathe sometimes," he replied tersely. He downed his water.

"You're supposed to be on pain meds. Don't they help?"

"They're supposed to."

"Right, and you're not taking them."

The bottom of the chair scrapped against the linoleum when Tony got up. "Nope."

Tony headed for the sink again. He leaned his waist against the counter. He was sure he heard the tinge of impatience in Steve's voice, and he shrugged, and made no offer for further explanation. Instead, he asked, "Barton said Fury summoned you this evening. What did he want?"

"He wanted to know if we're ready for the real deal."

"That so? Well, we're gonna need more way more firepower for starters."

"Yeah, but we can start by working with what we have right now. Ourselves, as a team." He looked pointedly at Tony. "You know we can't have a repeat of last week."

Tony let out a hollow chuckle. He put his glass down on the counter with more force than necessary. "Really, Cap? Well I'm not feeling up to beating the dead horse tonight."

He made to move away but Steve stood up and caught Tony firmly by the elbow. "You're one of the Avengers now. Part of a team. And as one unit we can't afford to have a member running loose on his own when there's a plan in place. You know what your action almost cost us that day?"

"Some twenty kids are going to have a chance living their lives?"

"At the expense of Natasha's?"

He had JARVIS feed him real-time statistics of every combatant on the field. He calculated the probabilities of the Avengers taking a hit from the GOUTs – negligible; Barton was already perched on a fifteen-storey office block, he had the altitude and the arrows to take over Tony's place. It would only take Hulk another smash or two to end them. The bus was not that far away from the park but every second counted, and he was the only one fast enough.

"You were ordered to distract them. When you took off, one of them turned to Natasha."

"These things are always unpredictable. That's why we invest in risk assessments. Probabilities! The numbers were clear, we had no problem taking any of them down in the park. I was the only flyer on the team and the kids stood absolutely no chance against the other one. I made the call."

"You could've alerted us. From his vantage point Barton would've had a clear shot."

"I won't risk it."

"You ignored a direct order."

"I did what had to be done!"

Tony was suddenly aware of Steve still holding his arm, so he pulled himself free and headed for the door. He heard Steve sigh but otherwise made no move to stop him. For the shortest of moment there Tony hesitated; he had been through his fair share amount of skirmishes and he understood no amount of foresight can accurately predict the final outcomes. His codes would have told him the twenty lives he saved was fair trade against Natasha's.

"We needed you," Steve said tiredly. "We trusted you to be there, and when you were not, we were almost fighting blind."

Steve wanted him to trust the team. Didn't they read his files? He knew his judgements rarely sit well with others and he had never been able to completely surrender control. He sure was not going to start now. But the earnest look Steve was wearing right now? He was too young. He had not met an Obadiah Stane, had not had a dead beat dad, had not known how it was like to have his trust shattered and thrown back into his face. But Tony was not going to teach him all that.

"I'm not saying what you did back there was wrong, you did save twenty lives. But we got to keep the communications open, Stark. You just got to learn to lean on us a bit."

The edge of Tony's lip quirked slightly. He knew what was required of him, but that wasn't happening overnight. Then again he knew a quick fix – that was the engineer in him talking. He knew what he could do in one overnight.

"It should be easy getting JARVIS loaded into our communicators. More input on all the ongoing stuff in battle. Quicker response time all around, you guys better make sure you can cope with the data JARVIS is gonna load on you."

Tony started rambling, he knew he should stop, and Steve looked amused. It was a wee bit unnerving. He really should get back to bed.

"Right. Good talk, that's enough excitement even for me. 'Night, Rogers."

"It's Steve."

Tony bid a hasty retreat from the kitchen, his ribs stinging, but he felt pretty good in spite of.