He'd always had a thing for Tony; when they were at high school he couldn't get enough of the boy, even though his arrogance vexed him beyond comparison and this was coming from someone who shared eight classes with Sebastian Shaw. The smaller boy always watched him, even when he shouldn't have, to make sure that he stayed away from danger, looking back he could tell that he did his job rather pathetically. However even that part of Tony seemed to have his heart jumping up and down like a drum's skin but he knew that it wasn't healthy.

It wasn't healthy to watch a boy that enjoyed girls fawning over him like he was water in the Savannah. It wasn't healthy for him to focus on this one boy that didn't share his love. But, most of all, it wasn't healthy for him to have feelings for any boy.

He wasn't stupid and think that all gay people went to hell to have their limbs pecked off by sparrows with red wing tips but he hadn't had the most liberal and eclectic childhood, so everything that he heard his father say, even though he disagreed with all of it, scared him. If he was… his father wouldn't be able to look at him again. If he was, he was worried about the way that people would look at him. If he was, he would lose his family, his friends, his acquaintances, the Post Man and… Tony. Jesus, if Tony knew…!

That's why he left. That was why he enrolled in the military before he had, even, left high school; they took him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk but he didn't care, he just needed to get out of Brooklyn and away from those people that he'd been hiding from. He didn't care that the others laughed at his lack of muscles or his short stature; he just needed to run; besides the Army filled you out, eventually.

He hadn't left as smoothly as he would have liked, though; when he was packing his bags into the boot of his car, Bruce and Clint ran over to him and tried to stop him from leaving; the taller of the two diving into the boot and throwing the bags out, again. Steve grabbed Bruce's shoulders and span him around, stopping him and pushing him back, his head shaking.

"You can't stop me." He whispered. "I have to go."

"You don't have to do anything!" Bruce yelped, the eager scientist watched helplessly as the boy ignored him and restacked the satchels and sports bags. "It's not a requirement for you to go, yet; you can still back out-."

"I've made my choice, Banner; I won't walk away from this." He muttered, slamming the lid shut and sliding past the two to the driver's seat but being stopped, again; this time by Clint's hand on his sleeve.

"Mate, just talk to Tony, this whole fight thing has gone on too long-."

"This isn't about, Tony; this is about me and my decision. It has nothing to do with Stark."

He didn't have to be Charles Xavier to know that they were despairing with him, mentally, their eyes rolling and their jaws clamped shut to stop the scoffs. But he didn't care, he had to leave Brooklyn and he wasn't staying to fight.

"I'm sorry; tell Thor and Natasha that I-." He felt his throat catch as he thought about his other friends that he was leaving behind. "I couldn't say bye."

He scrambled into the car and left them stood there, by the curb, their hands shaking and their heads down. Bruce blinked once and then another time, stopping the tears and then letting out a yell and kicking a bin close to them. Clint tried to calm him but Steve couldn't see what else had happened because he had turned a corner and couldn't see them anymore.

He thought about them; when he was laid back on his bed, looking up at the pictures of old days on the roof of his bunk. He saw the scrawny little kid that he used to be, squashed in between a brick house and another slighter shorter but just as muscled house; he saw the glow in his eyes as he looked up at Tony with such love. He saw the laughter racking his body as Natasha shoved her ice cream in Loki's face. He could see the memories, in front of his eyes, keeping him awake as he fought to sleep.

The time that Bruce and Tony had been forced to evacuate the gym after their science fair project, you know, evaporated into a poisonous gas. The time that he and Thor had their asses saved by the small and slender Natasha; the way that her legs propelled her forward and knocked the men unconscious. The time that Clint had broken the window in the science block just to get back at Shaw as he bullied Raven and Hank; it was all right, his arrow became embedded into the wall just right of his ear. Or the countless times that they stayed up laughing at each other; with food scattered around their beds and drinks spilt on the carpet or left to shake precariously on a mantelpiece and Lord of the Rings playing in the background.

You didn't get those warm memories in the Army. But you did get something like that; well, no, you got to sit in blistering heat with sweating dripping down your back and watch Bucky flirt with a nurse as she bandaged his arm up.

He was in the marines for, about, seven years before they pulled him out of it, at that time he was hauled up for special service in the name of his country. He was 25 when he first met Director Fury; the tall black man pushed his leather trench coat to one side as he walked over to their group of perspiring hounds.

"I'm here to talk to Steve Rogers." He boomed over the murmur of voices and the less than kosher remarks about his appearance.

Steve pushed his food across to the white haired man sat next to him and frowned, standing up so that Fury could see his face amongst the drowns of others.

"That's me." He called, walking across and saluting the man but the man didn't return it, nor did he appreciate it.

"I'm not here for formalities, Rogers; can we talk somewhere more private?"

Steve nodded and led the man through their small barracks till they were alone, the sun hidden from them as they stepped under a curtained ceiling.

"I'm here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative."

'The Avengers Initiative' was a broad and posh name for a bunch of men and women that were skilled in their particular field of violence. Rogers was rumoured to be one of the best soldiers of his age bracket, but he was nothing compared to some of the people that he worked with. Carol Danvers was a remarkable woman with the strength of a man and the beauty of an angel but her face hid the fire and anger in her hear; T'Challan, 'The Black Panther' an incredible calm and strong, patient man with the agility and flexibility of a world class gymnast and the silence of a cat; Ororo Monroe 'Storm' the anger powered and fierce mother of the group, not to be messed with, she'd blast you into another century; Hank Pym there was very little that could be said about Hank's fighting style but he certainly made up for it with his intelligence and his pacifist monologues.

That was their team and their family, there were a few more but S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent them on particular challenges that some people can't stomach. So, when Fury called them that morning to say that there were going to be new people on the team; he was surprised, they all were.

They were together brilliantly; they never fought, no one slept with anyone's girl or boy, no one spent all their time in a drunken stupor, no one fell over their own feet in a fight. Not that he thought that was what these other people would do but he didn't know them and he was proud of the Avengers, he didn't want anyone coming in and messing up their dynamic.

"Steve, would you stop already? It's going to be fine." Carol muttered as he continued to glare at the back of Fury's bald head for the billionth time in the last five minutes. He let out a sigh and turned his head 60 degrees to raise an eyebrow at her.

"How can you know that?" He asked, his arms folding across his chest as the others turned to watch their conversation.

"I can't but I trust in Fury, he won't let anyone into this top secret team," she stressed, rolling her eyes. "If he didn't trust them."

"Major, he's a spy; he doesn't trust anyone." He spat back. Carol just sighed and shook her head, the blond curls bobbing as she despaired at him, turning her head to look at the door.

"You're late." Steve heard Fury comment as the door opened and the newcomers walked in.

"Fashionably so." A voice threw back, carelessly and just as sarcastically as he used to.

Steve's heart plummeted; he had thought about that voice every day since he'd last heard it, thought about the way it broke when he used to begin crying, the way that it would laugh, the way that it would yell but he never remembered it perfectly enough. It was perfect now.

He watched the others turn and coo as they saw the self-confessed genius and billionaire standing in the middle of the Helicarrier control room. But Steve couldn't turn, his body refused to listen to his heart, it refused to look at the face that he'd run from. He wondered who else was stood there; luckily he didn't have to wonder for long.

"Doctor, it's a pleasure to have you and Barton join us." Fury said, in a softer tone then he'd used for Stark.

"That's alright, Director, we go wherever Tony does; to help clean up his mess." Bruce laughed, Clint smirking next to him; Steve watched them closely in the reflection of the mirror, Clint stayed close to Bruce always, he just never thought that they'd be… this close. Not that he condemned them; he just thought that one of them would have told him.

"Steve?" Clint's voice broke over Tony's mutterings to a girl at the side, his head snapping up and looking everywhere around the room; till his eyes caught his in the window and he froze as the leant on the railing.

He had no choice now; he had to buck up and face the music. The chair span as his foot pushed against the ground, looking at every corner for an escape route but they were all blocked.

Bruce let out a low breath as he looked at his old friend and his hand reached out, bypassing Clint and going instead to Tony' shoulder, pushing him forward so that he slipped from the railing and stumbled across the sleek floor. He was stood in front of him in a manner of seconds, bearing down on him like an owner in front of a puppy that had just pissed on the carpet.

Steve swallowed and stood up, yanking at the ends of his blazer to drag it down; he stood over Tony, now, he was more muscled as well, Tony's two biceps made one of his, his chest jutted out as he watched the emotions flickering across his face before he settled on one; anger.

Before anyone could do, say or think anything Tony's hand had balled into a fist and been slammed into Steve's jaw with a power that sent him stumbling back, his hands flying out and hitting the glass table so that it broke beneath him and his hands were sliced open. The rest of the table let out a shriek but remained intact.

Bruce could literally feel Fury roll his eyes behind him, dreading the discussion he'd have to have with someone about why they had to repair their state of the art and very expensive table.

Steve whipped his hand out, hissing as the blood dripped down to his finger nails and fell to the ground; his jaw stung as he opened it, attempting to talk but failing.

"T'Challan! No!" He glanced up as he saw Black Panther who had presumably, jumped across the table and leapt at Tony. Storm and Carol ran across to him and grabbed at their team mate as he attempted to attack Stark.

"You will not hurt a member of my team so unjustly." He spat in Tony's face but the man just stood there, unfazed, glaring at Steve with all the anger in the world bottled up into one expression.

"Stay out of this, spandex." He spat, moving past him towards his old friend. "It has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me; Steven is my friend and under my protection." Panther hissed, jumping into his path and standing in between the two men. Tony stepped back, suddenly, looking up and down at Black Panther and shaking his head, deciding against what he was going to do and turning away.

Clint moved Bruce out of the way as Stark stormed away from the control room, the archer shaking his head as Fury made to call him back.

"Leave him; he needs his time to cool down." Clint mumbled, watching the back retreat down the hallway. Bruce was the first one of them to look up at him, his eyes soft and sorry but edged with anger and bitterness. Ah, so that was why they never told him they were together.

He felt Carol's finger touch his jaw carefully but he flinched away and jumped at the touch, flashing her a look and following Tony's large stretches as he made to find him.

"Steve!" Clint called but he ignored the archer and slipped from the room, glancing around for signs of the man but finding none. Sighing, he locked down at his feet; once again, Steve Rogers had lost the man that he loved.

I hope to update soon, I really hope that you like it. I disclaim all rights to it, I don't own any of the Marvel Characters. Also, sorry if I've offended anyone I didn't mean to, I don't think any of the things that Steve is worried about but I just wanted to get across his nervousness and a reason that he would run away for the first time ever because this is Steve; he never runs.