More than food, sleep, a woman or a drink, Tony Stark wanted a shower.

At the shawarma joint, he'd washed off the worst of it in the tiny restroom. The air stank of disinfectant and the pipes whined in the wall, but the water worked. That was all that mattered. Tony stuck his head under the faucet and let water run down through his hair and across his face. Brown, black and red swirled down the drain as grit sluiced off him. His thoughts were just as muddy, and it took a long time to run clean. When he realized only a thin thread of red remained, he shut off the tap. Tony scrubbed both hands through his hair. Droplets splashed across the mirror, where a stranger's face stared back at him. The thin ring of blue through the T-shirt was right; the face was gaunt and unfamiliar.

Now, all Tony wanted was to go home and wash away that sense of wrongness. Let Blondie stay and deal with his kid brother. He was done.

"It's been grand, Captain," he said, "but I'm off babysitting duty."

Steve frowned and Tony frowned right back. He sent the crumpled wrapper whizzing past Steve's head: three points, straight into the trash. Steve didn't blink.

"You'll report back first. Mission's not over till after the debriefing."

Irritation flashed through him, hot as a suit overload. "I don't debrief on the first date, fly boy. Hold them off till tomorrow."

Natasha huffed out a breath, pulling his attention away from Steve. He flashed her his best playboy grin and winked. She rolled her eyes.

"Enough," she said to Steve, touching him lightly on the shoulder. "Let it go for now."

After a moment, Steve nodded and let the subject drop.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him and went to the window. "He means well, Tony," she said, when he joined her.

Outside the restaurant, Bruce was studying the wreckage of the city street. He seemed calm, but he held himself ready. Facing a threat. Tony tensed too, instinctively.

"I know," he said. "And I'll let them fill out their forms. But not yet."

Bruce shifted, and Tony saw Clint beside him. The big man hadn't learned to trust Clint yet, but Tony's instincts told him he could. His own tension eased slightly, and he went back to watching Bruce.

Bruce fascinated him. The contrast between cool exterior and electric mind intrigued him, and he had to admit he enjoyed trying to crack through that outward calm. Bruce Banner hid so much beneath the surface. Not just the rage monster, but an entire web of quiet insecurities and subtle emotions.

"What comes next, Tony?" Natasha asked.

Tony looked over, and found her watching him with speculation. He shifted uneasily. He was used to the whole world watching him, but he got the feeling her dark eyes saw too much.

"Home, and a night off," he said, ignoring the real question. The rest would have to wait.