Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Avengers

A/N: For a prompt on the Avengers kinkmeme :

Sometime after the Avengers, Tony and Pepper break up. Afterwards Tony's self-esteem takes a plummet and he becomes slightly self-destructive, partying a lot and drinking. The team lives with him at the tower and they are all in various states of worry (Bruce) and annoyance (Steve) over how Tony's been behaving. They think this is just normal Tony behavior and don't realize he's really in pain.

After awhile though Tony starts dating some guy and his behavior turns around. He stops partying and drinking and being so loud and obnoxious. The team assumes he's happy and are glad his behavior has turned around.

What they don't realize is that the guy Tony's dating is becoming increasingly abusive. First he was sweet, then the verbal abuse started, and finally he became physically abusive. Tony wasn't a complete push over though so he decides to talk to the team about it before things became too bad. He asks the team what they think of the guy and Steve says something like "He's great. Whatever he's doing that's gotten you to settle down he needs to keep doing." After hearing this Tony thinks the team agrees with the abuse so he stays in the relationship and withdraws further and further.

One day someone notices the bruises on Tony and flips their shit trying to figure out where they came from and who's been hurting him. Tony's all confused and like "uh duh it was so-and-so I told you about this months ago." Cue truck loads of team angst with the team realizing that not only did they not help their teammate out of an abusive relationship but that they encouraged it. Then all the hurt/comfort in the world and them getting Tony the hell out of that relationship.

Bonus: Steve feeling super upset with himself over his part in this especially because of his stance on bullies. This eventually leads to Steve beating the crap out of Tony's ex.

X10000 Bonus: Coulson was gone on vacation or something (or recovering from pesky stab wounds) and doesn't come back till the end of this situation and is like "what the hell did you guys do to Stark." He is very upset about his team letting the situation go on for so long and coincidentally Tony feels most comfortable being around him since he wasn't involved in the whole situation.

Pepper left him for good on a warm summer's evening. The very next day every single TV network was carrying pictures of her kissing Happy on the backseat of the limo.

They both left him aghast messages, promising that it had never happened before and that they hadn't meant to hurt him, and that it hadn't gone any further than that. Pepper had been upset, and Happy had been there and caring, and things had just happened.

Truthfully, he believed them. It just didn't help.

He didn't pick up their calls. He didn't pick up any calls, and he avoided all the gentle, sympathetic overtures from the other Avengers instead staying in his penthouse and drinking away the day. This hurt. As if getting dumped wasn't bad enough, now he felt betrayed as well. Oh, Pepper.

But they kept talking about her on TV. His humiliation was happening in full sight of the world. They ran the pictures again and again, and made all these little disparaging comments. They called her a golddigger and a tramp and started talking like he must have left her. Like he was clearly better off without her. He had all the sympathy here, and he just hated it. Pepper was...Pepper was perfect. Always. He was the screw-up. And he knew how much she was hating this as well, he could hear it in every increasingly exhausted voice message she left him. Pep had never wanted to be in the public eye, and now the public hated her.

The others were worried about him, he knew. He got that from the way Bruce suddenly had twice as many projects he wanted Tony to have a look at, and Natasha brought him coffee and ice cream when he didn't come down for dinner, and Steve kept suggesting that Tony could take him out to see the sights of 21st century New York, and Clint challenged him to sparring matches or video games tournaments, and Thor suggested that they get drunk together, sing sand songs and go hunt a Bilgesnipe, which was either a euphemism or a weird Asgardian break-up tradition. Or both. Either way, he said no. He said no to everyone. He didn't want their pity or sympathy, he just wanted to curl up in a hole and die. Or better yet, he wanted to stop feeling this emptiness.

He couldn't stand it. There was something twisted up inside his stomach. He had to get out of here. He had to do something.

He went out that night to a little exclusive club he knew, and he bought more drinks than the club had glasses, and he ended up going home with three cocktail waitresses, and the next day the media was full of pictures of the four of them getting hot and heavy in the elevator. Pepper wasn't mentioned once.

It wasn't that it felt good, exactly, but it felt different. They weren't Pepper, and with the burn of the alcohol and the sweat-slicked sensation of skin-on-skin, the memories of everything he'd lost faded, just a little, just for a moment. It wasn't good, but it would do. For now.

Unfortunately, the next day was the ceremony to announce that the first phase of the clean-up of New York was complete. And that meant that the Avengers had a press conference to celebrate their part in the clean-up, and somehow no one wanted to know that they'd been working every day for weeks, they just wanted to know about Tony's latest escapade. There was smirking. A lot of smirking.

"Are you going to see them again, Tony?"

"So on your list of orgies, how high did this one rank?"

"How do you respond to the accusation from the girl's building manager that you left a condom in the elevator for him to clean up?"

He winced a little at that one, mostly for the disgusted look on Bruce's face. Bruce looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"The Avengers are going to take part in the next phase of the rebuilding by - " Steve began uncomfortably, but he was interrupted by some lurid speculation as to whether the girls were bisexual.

As Agent Sitwell stepped in and ushered them off the stage, Steve frowned at him, looking disappointed and disapproving. "That could have gone better."

"Next time, keep it in your pants, huh, Stark?" Clint grumbled as they headed back to the tower.

He didn't say anything. He really wanted a drink, and he wanted to drown out all the memories of today.

It was early morning and Natasha was the first one up, which was unusual. Normally Steve or Dr Banner were up before her. They had all got into the habit of having breakfast in the communal kitchen, initially so they could be easily briefed on the day's clear-up duties, and make sure the more...erratic...among them were aware it was morning, they were in New York, and they had a job to do. Nowadays it was more of a habit than anything else, but a nice habit, she thought. It was good to hear what the others had planned for the day. It made her feel more connected to them.

There was the sound of the elevator doors opening and a second later Stark stumbled in. His hair was sticking up all over the place, his eyes were bloodshot and he looked like he hadn't shaved for a few days. She glanced casually back to the elevator – it had been going up. Apparently this was Stark just getting in.

"Did you have a good night?" she asked neutrally.

He just grunted.

"There's fresh coffee in the pot," she told him, and she watched as he staggered over to the counter and poured himself a mug full. This wasn't the first time she'd seen Stark in this condition. Over the last two weeks it had become more and more common, until she barely saw him sober. And assuming the media reports were more or less accurate, he'd had sex with sixteen different people in that time. At least four of them had immediately ran and sold their story to the papers. 'My night of passion with a superhero'. Natasha had been ordered to read all the original transcripts just to be sure Stark hadn't given away any operational or security details to civilians who plainly couldn't be trusted. At least he wasn't taking them back to the tower. Right now, that was the best that could be said for him.

She'd been surprised that three quarters of Stark's chosen partners were men. She'd compiled the file on him, and she knew he had shown bisexual tendencies in the past, but there had only been a few times when he'd been reportedly intimate with other men. The supposed change in behaviour had the press going wild, and the prevailing theory seemed to be that Stark had been gay all along, and Pepper had left when she found out.

Natasha wasn't so sure this was a change in his behaviour. Yes, the equipment he was playing with might be different, but as near as she could tell it was the same game. Stark had gone right back to collecting notches on his bedpost the moment he was single again, and while she didn't really object on any sort of moral grounds, she found it an unnecessary distraction. Being this high profile already made her uncomfortable, the last thing she wanted was to live surrounded by sex scandal after sex scandal. She wondered how Pepper had put up with being his PA for so long. Personally, Natasha would have neutered him after a month.

Pepper. She sighed, remembering their last conversation and the hurt in the other woman's voice.

"So who was it tonight?" she asked with deceptive pleasantness as Stark sat down. "Or did you not manage to get a name this time?"

Stark shrugged and stared down at his coffee. "Just someone," he said.

There was a stubble rash across his throat, she noticed clinically. A man, then. And for the rash to be at that angle, he would have had to be pressing down on top of Stark. She raised an eyebrow. She wouldn't have thought Stark would be willing to relinquish control like that.

"What?" Stark asked irritably in response to her look.

She shook her head. It wasn't something that required discussion. Just, perhaps, a further sign that Stark was getting worryingly out of control. It made her feel bad, surprisingly. Over the past month she had come to feel a certain fondness for him. He was brave and generous, and when he chose to be, he could be rather charming. But she couldn't see a way this ended well. Not for him or for anyone.

"Perhaps you should take a break from partying for a while," she suggested, watching him keenly.

"What do you mean?" Stark asked, lounging back in his chair.

"Your selfish pursuit of your own pleasure is a problem," she told him bluntly.

Stark glared at her defensively. "Capsicle put you up to this? Or Bruce?"

She hadn't realised that anyone else had already talked to him. Or perhaps they hadn't and Stark had just picked up on the prevailing mood. At any rate she paused for a second, taking a sip of her own coffee and trying to think of the perfect weakness to exploit. Ah. "Pepper is worried about you," she said with absolute truth. "All of this is making her very unhappy."

There was a flash of something in Stark's eyes – hurt? - and then it was gone and he was leering across the table at her. "Wait, I'm what you two talk about when you're alone? Well, that's frankly disappointing. I had some serious sexual fantasies tied up in you being involved in some torrid affair. All naked pillow fighting, tickling, and light spanking. The world's sexiest redheads entwined. No?"

"You're a pig, Stark," she said calmly.

He shrugged. "Oink oink, Spider." He stood up and drank his coffee in a single gulp. "I'm going to go lie down. I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night, if you know what I mean."

He headed back towards the elevator. She deliberated for a moment before calling after him. "Stark!" He paused, but didn't turn round. "You have been down this road before. Do you really like the ending?"

They were both remembering that disastrous birthday party, she knew. But when Stark turned back he was smiling, his hands spread wide. "Oh, Widow, haven't you heard? It's not the destination, it's the journey."

With that, he stepped into the elevator and vanished.

Natasha sighed and shook her head. It didn't seem like there'd be any stopping him. Perhaps it was time to start some damage limitation. It was always possible that if she distanced herself, he would realise his behaviour was problematic.

Everyone always said that these things get better with time. As far as Tony could tell, they didn't. Natasha was barely talking to him outside missions these days. He figured he'd probably gone too far, but then he usually did. She wasn't the only one who was angry with him either; they all were to greater or lesser degrees.

Steve had confronted him after the latest round of stories broke in the press. "You need to be more careful," he said, sounding frustrated.

It was always difficult arguing with Steve when you half thought he was right. He hadn't read them, but he knew the guy in the club had given him rave reviews, as had all the people watching. JARVIS had given him the highlights, and it made him feel old and tired and very, very stupid. But with Steve looking at him like that, he had to keep the act up, and he pretended to misunderstand. "I promise you, Cap, there were condoms all round," he said seriously. "Some of them were bubblegum flavoured."

Steve's face briefly showed a sort of fascinated disgust. "Bubblegum? No. No, never mind, I don't want to know, Stark. I mean you have to be more careful who you sleep with. Have you even considered the security implications? We should really be running background checks on all these people."

"Yeah, that's not going to work for me," Tony said with a sharp grin. "Are you saying this to everyone else? Or am I just special?"

"I don't like seeing you give yourself away so cheaply," Steve admitted, and he felt a flash of hurt.

"I like sex," he told Steve fiercely. "I like all kinds of sex with all kinds of people. That does not mean I'm 'giving myself away'. What is this, a cheap romance novel?" There was nothing wrong with what he was doing, and he didn't even want to consider the fact that nothing compared to Pepper. He was picking up men just so the comparison was harder to make. He didn't want to admit that these days, meaningless sex left him feeling meaningless.

"That's not the point though," Steve steamrollered on. "If everyone knows that anyone with a cute smile can get to Iron Man, eventually someone's going to take advantage of that. What do you think is going to happen if you get kidnapped?"

He took a deep breath. "Well, history suggests there'll be a lot of screaming, and then I'll build something awesome, escape and kill them all. It's kind of what I do."

"Tony," Steve sighed, and he couldn't tell if that was disappointment or annoyance. Either way, he wished it would stop. Every time they looked at him in disgust like that, he felt a little worse and he felt pushed into defending himself.

Bruce said what he did in his personal life was his own business, which was something. Except Tony knew he still disapproved, and it was hard to be friends with someone who was trying not to care about your personal life. At least he wasn't getting any lectures though. Or he thought he wasn't, until one day when he was sitting with a drink – or drinking out the bottle – while he took apart the toaster, and Bruce turned to him with an earnest expression. "Have you ever thought maybe you drink too much?"

Yes. "Nope," he said cheerfully. "Everything's fine."

Bruce sighed deeply. Everyone sighed at him these days. "Okay. You know I respect you, Tony."

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the conversation already. "I was holding out for awe, but sure."

Apparently that was enough. "I get that you like to have a good time, and that's fine, but it's not something I feel comfortable with. Especially when I'm working. I don't want to be around you when you drink, and I need you to understand that if you ever show up drunk at my lab, I'm locking you out and changing the security protocols so you never get in again."

He could point out that this was his damned tower and besides there was no way Bruce could design a security protocol he couldn't get through. But that wasn't the point. When he'd offered Bruce a place to stay, he said he'd keep all the annoying types away. Apparently that included him. "Sure," he said easily. "I get the message."

"It's not you," Bruce tried to say.

He laughed humourlessly. "Yeah. I've been hearing that a lot lately." And he knew it wasn't true. He was the common denominator here. It was his drinking and sleeping around that made everyone uncomfortable, and that filled him with a familiar self-disgust. But when he tried to stop, just for a few days, the penthouse was large and lonely, and making conversations with the others was just too difficult and awkward. The people he slept with might only be with him because they wanted to say they'd slept with Tony Stark, but at least they didn't judge him. They were warm and alive, and lying next to them he felt human. Dirty and disgusting, but human.

But that meant that the others didn't want to spend time with him. He understood that; he drove everyone away in the end. Still, before all this, it had felt like they were making progress. Now everyone was worried and annoyed, and even Clint and Thor had stopped inviting him to their mammoth eighties movie marathons. It was stupid how easy it was to miss the little things.

He was lonely, he supposed, and that just led to even more self-loathing. The truth was, he didn't know the other Avengers that well. They lived together, and he liked them, and he was happy to fight alongside them – he trusted them to watch his back, but trusting them enough to actually try and talk about his feelings...no. Not yet, and maybe not ever. And Rhodey was on assignment in North Korea, which he wasn't supposed to even know about, but it was one more thing weighing down on him, and not just because of the mandatory communications blackout. It was something he'd never, ever share, but he found it much harder to sleep when he knew Rhodey was out of the country, doing something dangerous. Always had, ever since Rhodey's first deployment after MIT, and if anything it had got worse since Rhodey became War Machine. That was his design Rhodey was flying around, and if he got hurt it would all be Tony's fault. And now he was in North Korea and the War Machine wasn't built for infiltration, so that was worrying, and Rhodey probably didn't even know Tony and Pepper had broken up, and everything was just a mess.

And of course he couldn't talk to Pepper. No matter how much he wanted to. And that was only made worse by the fact that he had to. She was CEO of Stark Industries, he was the owner and lead engineer. Talking was kind of inevitable.

"Miss Potts is on the line," JARVIS announced as Tony sat up, trying to scrub the grit from his eye after an unsuccessful attempt at a nap on the sofa in his workshop. Actually sleeping in his bed was proving impossible at the moment.

He yawned. "Did she say it was important or very important?"

"Extremely important," JARVIS said, a note of cold disapproval in his voice. He hadn't forgiven Pepper for the break-up, no matter how often Tony explained that these things happened and it had really been his fault anyway. It wasn't often that JARVIS got the nuances of human behaviour wrong; Tony kept meaning to check his coding.

"Put her through," he said with a sigh.

A second later, her image flashed into life on the monitor opposite. She was wearing that blue dress he liked, paired with a crisp suit jacket, her hair piled on top of her head. She looked beautiful, and he was suddenly very aware of what a mess he looked. Or, rather, what a mess he was. He smiled with an effort. "Miss Potts."

She wasn't in a playful mood. "Tony. Are you aware that there's a story on the wire about you crashing a sorority party?"

"I didn't 'crash' it, I was invited," he protested. "And you're always saying I should be more involved in college education."

"I meant scholarships and guest lectures," she said through gritted teeth. "Not keg stands and seducing co-eds."

"If it helps, there was only one, and I'm pretty sure she was a grad student," he offered.

She sighed, massaging her temples. "Tony...you know we have that education symposium coming up. And we're in the middle of bidding for contracts to provide Stark Pads to half the Ivy League. And now every time anyone mentions Stark Industries and education in the same breath, they're going to be thinking of your drunken exploits."

There was a part of him that wanted to apologise. There was another part that wanted to blame her for all of this. But most of all, he just wanted to admit to her that he was miserable, and have her hold him and talk to him, and make it all better like only she ever could. He shrugged. "C'mon, Pep, just tell them that drunken exploits and casual sex are what college is all about. I'm providing an excellent example."

"Tony, the board is talking seriously about distancing Stark Industries from you," she told him bluntly. "I was able to override them this time, but I won't be able to keep doing that forever."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't," he said after a second, and it hurt to listen to the words coming out of his own mouth. "I made you CEO because I trust you to do the best thing for the company."

"You made me CEO because you were too busy dying and being an ass to do it yourself," she answered sharply.

"Yeah, well, the other thing was part of it too," he said. "Seriously, Pepper, I'm not dying but I'm still an ass. You need to do what you think is right."

"Tony - " she looked visibly upset.

" - just think about it," he interrupted quickly. He already knew what she'd decide. She had a better head for business than he ever had. "Now, was that all you were calling about?"

"No," she said. "I wanted to check how the new thermal imaging project for FEMA was coming?"

He swallowed hard. "I'm having some trouble," he admitted. Trouble like had hadn't actually managed to successfully build anything since she'd left. Every project he had lay abandoned. He hadn't even made any upgrades to the Iron Man armour, and he usually came up with one or two little things per week. He was managing to keep on top of maintenance, but that was it. The drive to create had left him, and all he was left with was an uncomfortable restless itch under his skin, like he knew he should be doing something but couldn't remember how.

"Oh!" She blinked in surprise. They both knew it should have been a simple job. The specifications were exact, but far from outrageous. He should have been able to do it in his sleep. The only trick would be to bring it in under budget, and that was more of a personal challenge than anything else. "I could kick it over to R&D if you like?" she suggested hesitantly. "Maybe a fresh perspective is all you need. " They both knew that would cause all sorts of rumours, but the deadline was looming and what was one more blow to his pride?

He sighed. "Sure," he agreed tonelessly, feeling completely useless. Another thing he wasn't good enough for anymore.

There was a pause and he could feel her looking at him, almost as if she was in the room instead of the other side of the country. "Tony...are you alright?" she asked eventually.

He wasn't alright. He was drowning and he needed someone to throw him a line." I'm just fine," he said with his brightest smile. "You know me. I'm a bit under the weather this morning. Big party last night."

She didn't look convinced.

"How's Happy?" he asked hurriedly.

Like he'd expected, guilt distracted her. "He's...he's still upset about what happened, and about you sending him to Malibu with me. I mean, we both understand why you did, but it still hit him hard." She hesitated. "He..asked me out to dinner on Saturday. I haven't given him an answer yet. I wanted to know if it was something you thought you could be okay with. I don't want to ruin anything."

"Little late for that, don't you think?" he said before he could stop himself.

"I know," she said, her voice choked. "I just want to go back to the way things were before."

Back when they were still friends. She hadn't just broken up with him, she wanted to forget their whole relationship. But since she was the only woman he'd ever loved, and the first person he'd been in a real relationship with for almost two decades, it wasn't that simple for him. With her he'd felt complete. At peace. Now she was gone, it was like he'd lost everything that mattered.

"If I'd given up on being Iron Man, given up drinking, stopped working all the time, stopped being so...so me, could we have made it work?" he asked desperately.

She looked sad. "Oh, Tony. That's the point. You shouldn't have to give up all those things for a relationship. You deserve someone who'll love you because of all that, not in spite of it."

That was a yes. And she talked like he was going to find someone else, when the truth was, up to this point he'd managed to keep three friendships in his life, and he paid Pepper and Happy, and Rhodey had always needed to keep him sweet in order to stay as Stark Industries military liaison. He wasn't good with people on a long term basis, and basic logic told him he was going to end up alone.

"You should go out with Happy," he said quietly. "He's a good guy. He'll treat you right." Not like him.

"Tony - " There was just a hint of tears in her eyes, and he couldn't stand it. She'd been holding them back the night she broke up with him as well. It had made him feel like a worm.

" - I'd better go," he babbled. "Steve has one of his team-building exercises planned, and you know how he gets when people are late. It'll be puppy-dog eyes all over the place, and before you know it I'll have agreed to take him to Disney World or something just to try and cheer him up."

"Tony - " she said again.

" - gotta go, bye Pep." He made a quick signal and JARVIS hung up the call.

"While Captain Rogers does not have any team building exercises planned, it appears the household is congregating for dinner, and are planning on watching a movie after that," JARVIS announced. "May I suggest you consider joining them?"

"Why?" he asked tiredly, lying back on the sofa. Sleep felt like it should be possible, and yet every time he closed his eyes it seemed further and further away.

"For one thing, sir, you have not eaten since approximately seven o'clock yesterday evening," JARVIS told him.

"Not true, I had that sandwich," he objected.

"Yes, sir," JARVIS agreed patiently. "At approximately seven o'clock yesterday evening you consumed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Might I also add that peanut butter and jelly do not, in themselves, constitute any of the major food groups?"

"I'm not hungry," he said sullenly. "And even if I am, Dummy can make me a smoothie, right Dummy?"

The bot perked up at the thought, claw turned enquiringly towards Tony, radiating hope with every inch of its being. Dummy knew Tony was miserable even if he didn't understand why or how to fix it.

"You see?" he said to JARVIS triumphantly.

"I also believe you are in need of human company," JARVIS told him.

A night spent trying to think of things to say, trying to dodge the disapproval, staring down their cold indifference...no. That was absolutely not what he needed. "I'm fine," he said.

"With respect, sir, you just told your ex-girlfriend to work to take your company away from you," JARVIS said, his voice more gentle than the words suggested. "I am not certain that is the work of a rational man."

"I just told my CEO to consider distancing the company from potentially undesirable elements," he corrected. "Pepper will do what she needs to."

"Have you considered what you need, sir?" JARVIS asked quietly.

"I need..." He sighed. "I need to get out of here. Human company, you said? Right. Let's try some more of that. I'll take the Bugatti and call ahead to Cymbal's, make sure the VIP room is waiting."

"That was not what I had in mind, sir," JARVIS said unhappily, but Tony knew he would do what he asked regardless.

He smiled. "Don't wait up," he said.

Not counting the Battle of New York or the clean up and associated Chitauri stragglers afterwards, this was the fourth missions that Steve had led the Avengers into, and the second involving Doombots. It seemed some dictator in Latveria had found he had a need for some Vibranium and rather than trying to buy some he'd sent an army of robots that looked like him to try and steal it. That had been two weeks ago, and the robots had been relatively easy to defeat – the six Avengers had fought together with the sort of precision and harmony that made Steve's heart glad. This was a team a man could be proud to lead. Only now, two weeks later the robots were back. Same facility, same plan as near as Steve could tell, only this time the robots were faster, more armoured, and better able to adapt to their fighting techniques. Plus some of them had flamethrowers. But when their side had Hulk, and a Norse God capable of bringing lightning, plus an archer with exploding arrows, and a tech genius with what Steve was privately terming an 'anti-robot-gun' although he expected there would be a better explanation later, the robots weren't standing much of a chance. He and Natasha weren't managing to do much more than knock them down, but that was working out perfectly. They were in charge of crowd control, herding the robots into clusters in open spaces so the others could do their thing.

It was a role that gave Steve plenty of time to observe his team. Especially Iron Man. He was watching for every mistake, every time that Tony's reactions seemed a little slower than usual, or his aim seemed a little off. Tony had been out again last night and Steve was worried it might affect him, no matter how blasé Tony had said when he said he was fine.

Truthfully, Steve didn't know what to do. He disapproved of everything Tony was doing these days – he was obnoxious, venal, disrespectful and out of control, and as leader, Steve knew he should be bringing him to heel. Except that had never been his style of leadership and he really didn't want to. It had never had to be his style of leadership. He'd never tried to be in charge of someone like Stark before. Back in the war, people had kept their work and their off hours a lot more separate. Not that there had been much chance to do anything else, of course.

He could order Stark to simmer down, he supposed, but the problem with that was this team was so new that he didn't want to start giving too many out-of-combat orders. Apart from anything else, there was always the possibility he'd be disobeyed. Besides, Stark owned this tower and supplied half their equipment plus paying for all the little sundries – groceries to punching bags and all the little things in between. It wasn't that he was afraid Stark would hold all that over his head if they argued, it was just...he was very conscious of just how much the Avengers owed Iron Man.

The thing was, he liked Tony when Tony wasn't being over the top, but that was all the time these days, and he just wanted to strangle the man. He was affecting their unit cohesion and their public reputation, and he didn't even seem to care. And Natasha said this was normal behaviour for him when he was single. That made him glad they'd met while Tony was still dating Miss Potts. If Tony had been like this when they'd met, he doubted they'd have ever got to be sort-of-friends.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure if all this irritation was really Stark's fault. Tony wasn't the only one letting his personal life affect his job. One of the few Howling Commandos to survive the war, Garbiel Jones, had contacted him a few days ago. He was dying and he'd wanted to see his old CO again. The media could speculate all they liked as to whether the Captain America from the forties and the Captain America running around today were the same man; the people who knew him couldn't be fooled. He'd gone along to the hospital, awkward and nervous. Gabriel had been very, very old, and very, very frail, and so much smaller than the man Steve remembered. He'd sat by the bed and called Gabriel's name, and Gabriel hadn't even recognised him. Hadn't remembered asking him to come. A bad day, his daughter said, and he was ushered away, feeling like he'd failed.

That had been three days ago and he'd got a phonecall last night to tell him Gabriel was going downhill fast. So he was in no mood to put up with Stark's antics.

The civilians were crowding around the top of the street again. Steve didn't get it. He would have thought it was basic human nature to stay away from things that could hurt you. "Widow, get those people back," he ordered.

"Any of them cute?" Clint called. "Maybe we should get Stark to do it. It must be at least three hours since he got laid."

"No names over the radio," Steve reminded him sharply. Maybe everyone knew Stark was Iron Man, but the rest of them weren't that publicity-seeking, and it was always best not to get into bad habits.

Of course they both ignored the interruption. "Yeah? What's it been for you, two years? Use it or lose it, Legolas," Tony retorted.

"Hawkeye, Iron Man, cool it, okay?" Steve snapped. "If it's not mission-related, I don't want to hear it. And that's an order."

"Oh, an order," Tony said, the smirk audible in his voice. "I guess Captain Frigid doesn't like all the sex talk, huh?" He paused, hovering in the air directly above Steve and pantomimed something obscene with his hips. The flash of a dozen camera phones filled the air.

Steve's blood boiled. That was enough. That was more than enough. "Stark, it's things like this that make you a burden on this team. You're an embarrassment, nothing more. Now, do you think that you can keep your mouth shut for the rest of this fight, or do I have to tell you to stand down?"

He was tense, waiting for the come-back, fully prepared to bench Stark if he had to. He needed to know his orders would be obeyed.

But Stark didn't say anything at all, and after a few second he flew off, catching the stragglers from the group of robots Hulk was smashing.

The rest of the fight passed remarkably quickly, and in even more remarkable peace and quiet. Much as he enjoyed this sudden professionalism, Steve did feel bad. He'd never complained about coms chatter before, no matter how distasteful it had previously got, and he hadn't really meant for Tony to shut up altogether. But there was a line, and Tony had to learn where that was. Hopefully this would be a wake-up call, because Steve really didn't want to have to start thinking about benching him for good. A short, sharp shock. Maybe that was exactly what Tony needed.

Tony sat on the floor of his workshop, hunched against the door. There was a bottle lying next to him, but he'd managed to avoid opening it. The plans for a new Iron Man suit hung in the middle of the room, spinning slowly. They were basically an amalgamation of two previous marks. There was nothing new there. Nothing fresh. He hadn't created, he'd copied. These days that was all he was capable of. He was turning into Justin Hammer.

"Scrap it," he ordered. "Scrap the whole project."

The hologram vanished instantly. Normally when he asked to delete something, JARVIS would suggest saving it for a rainy day. This must really be as bad as he thought.

His head thudded back against the door. "JARVIS, what does it mean when you can't make stuff anymore?" he asked.

"I believe it is often considered a sign of stress, sir," JARVIS answered smoothly.

He laughed humourlessly. "Stress? What have I got to be stressed about. I've got the perfect life." He gestured around the workshop with the bottle. "Billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist superhero, remember? Who wouldn't kill for that package? In case you haven't noticed, J, people are queueing up to get a piece of me."

"Yes, sir."

He paused and glanced at the nearest camera. There had been a definite tone there. He sighed. "You have a problem with me now, JARVIS? Save the lectures, okay? I get enough of them from Captain Spangles."

"I would not have any problem, sir, if I believed for one second you were happy in your current lifestyle," JARVIS said quietly.

It was like a slap in the face. He didn't need reminding how miserable he was. "What would you know about it," he snapped. "You're just a machine."

There was silence. Tony clapped his hands over his mouth in horror, as if he could somehow take the words back.

"No, that's not...I didn't mean it," he protested weakly. "JARVIS, you know you're more than that to me." He waited as the silence stretched out. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost JARVIS too.

"I know, sir," JARVIS said at last, but his tone was still cool. "Perhaps you should consider your words more carefully before speaking."

"If I could do that, imagine how different my life would be," he said gloomily. "For what it's worth, I really didn't mean it."

"I know," JARVIS said again, his voice softer. "With respect, sir, perhaps you should consider spending more time with other people."

That was what JARVIS always said when he thought Tony had been shut up in his workshop too long, and Tony's mind immediately leapt to times when that would have meant Pepper, would have meant kisses and laughter, and listening to how her day had been, and nothing was boring when he was with her.

He wanted her so bad he couldn't stand it.

He sighed, and scuffed his shoes together absently. "People, huh? Alright, I'll give it a try." He'd been trying to avoid the others as much as he could. All he seemed to do was annoying him, and he knew Steve hadn't been kidding when he'd been talking about making him stand down. He didn't want to risk giving him any ideas. Being on the team was about all he had right now.

Still, he wandered down to the communal area to see who was there, and was surprised to see Steve standing by the kitchen table, wearing dark suit and tie.

He raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit grim for a night out, isn't it?"

Steve didn't smile. "Gabriel Jones died on Monday. The funeral's tomorrow, but there's a viewing tonight. I...I wanted to be there." His voice cracked, embarrassing them both.

Tony didn't know what to say. This was people-stuff, and his track record proved he was terrible at it. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly.

"Yeah." Steve ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "He was ninety five. That's a good age, right? And he married a great dame and they had five kids, twelve grandkids and eighteen great grandkids. That's what he always said he wanted after the war. A big family."

There was a pause and Tony desperately tried to find some words. Any words. "It sounds like he had a good life?" he suggested awkwardly.

Somehow, it worked. Steve relaxed and smiled at him tiredly. "Yeah. I think he did. Thanks, Tony."

He was struck by an idea. "Hey, do you want me to come with you I mean, I'm not sure this is the sort of thing you should go to alone."

"No!" Steve exclaimed immediately. "No, definitely not. Sorry, Tony. The family has been through enough. They really don't need your sort of publicity."

With ease of practice, he hid the flinch. There was nothing he could really say to that. No way he could defend himself.

"Natasha is coming with me," Steve added, catching sight of something on his face. "So you don't need to worry."

"I wasn't worried," he said automatically.

"Sure," Steve smiled, in a way that was just on the wrong side of patronising. "I'd better head out. I'll see you later though, okay? Have a good night."

"You too," he said, and immediately winced. "I mean, I hope it goes well."

He waited until Steve was gone before slumping down at the table, his head buried in his hands. He was such an idiot. He couldn't do anything right.

He sighed. So much for human company. Steve and Natasha were out at this viewing for Steve's old friend. Clint was visiting Phil in hospital, and then had his mandatory post-brainwashing therapy session. Thor had gone to Asgard to visit his brother in prison or whatever they had there. Bruce was working on some soft of breakthrough, which he hoped would make his transformations less painful and allow him to retain more memories.

All his friends were busy. More to the point, all his friends had real problems. It was enough to make him feel even more disgusted with himself than he already was. He had the perfect life; all his problems were self-inflicted. No matter what he did, he could never be a better person.

Somehow his phone was in his hand and he stared down at it, his fingers hovering over Pepper's number. He could call her right now. He could tell her how sorry he was, and how miserable. Instead he called Rhodey, and of course he got his voicemail. Rhodey's phone was probably sitting at the bottom of a locker somewhere. And still he closed his eyes as Rhodey's clipped tones told him to leave a message.

"Hey, honeybear, 's me. I just...Pepper and me split up. Her decision. I know you're not gonna get this for a while but I just wanted...yeah." His voice sounded raw. "Come back soon, Rhodey. And safe. I'll buy you a new car. I'll buy you your own plane. Whatever. Just...I'll see you soon." He hung up abruptly and scowled. Rhodey was going to hear that messae and he was going to think Tony was dying again, or on drugs or something. He wiped his hand across his mouth. "JARVIS, do me a favour and delete that message will you?"

"Sir, I am certain that Colonel Rhodes would prefer to hear that message." JARVIS protested.

Tony shrugged. "Well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him. Lose it."

"Yes, sir," JARVIS agreed unhappily.

He sighed. He didn't mean to upset JARVIS again. This day just kept getting better and better. "I'm going out," he announced, standing up abruptly. "Call ahead to Ludo's and make sure I'm on the guest list, will you? And call a cab."

"Yes, sir," JARVIS said, and now he sounded even more unhappy.

Too bad. Tony just wanted to stop thinking. Something had to change soon, right?

It was morning and the sunlight streaming in his eyes woke him up. He groaned and rolled over, trying to bury his face in the pillow. Huh. Cotton sheets and a firm mattress. This wasn't his bed. And it was empty. Normally he was the one who did the leaving in the morning.

Bleary-eyed, and with no real memory where he was or who he'd hooked up with, he stood up and found his clothes lying on the floor at the side of the bed. He wrinkled his nose. Too bad going out to a bar with a change of underwear was frowned upon. With a sigh, he dressed and cautiously opened the bedroom door.

It led into a reasonably sized apartment. There was a man standing in the kitchen area, fully dressed and making pancakes. Funny. He was pretty sure he'd seen Coulson wearing that exact suit. The guy looked better in it than Agent ever had.

"Oh, you're awake," the man smiled. Mark Lowing, Tony's mind supplied in a whisper. FBI agent. He liked classic cars and classic movies, and he did amazing things with his mouth. His dick wasn't bad either. "Good. I have to head to work soon, and I was afraid I might miss you. Always feels cheap leaving with only a note, you know?"

Tony generally didn't bother with a note. "Bad guys won't catch themselves, right?" he said instead. He hated this part. People were always looking for more of him than he was willing to give, or rather they weren't looking for him, they were looking for a genius, billionaire, philanthropist superhero. They'd already had the playboy.

Mark shrugged. "It pays the bills. Coffee? Pancakes?"

"Coffee. Please," he said, a little too eagerly, and Mark shot him an amused glance before he turned away to pour a cup. He waited until Tony had it to his lips before saying lightly "So, I know this is awkward, but what was your name again?"

Tony choked, and it was a second before he realised Mark was laughing.

"Man, your face," he chuckled. "Sorry, but you had that panicked post-sex, must-escape look on your face and I just couldn't resist messing with you. I know who you are, Tony." He looked curious. "Does anyone ever not recognise you?"

"Occasionally," he said with a shrug. "Not in New York, though. Not for a while."

"Huh." Mark's brow was furrowed. "That must be difficult. Finding space to be yourself, I mean."

It wasn't some deep insight. So he didn't know why his chest suddenly felt tight. "Yeah. Well. With me, what you see is what you get."

"I doubt that," Mark said, gazing at him.

Tony looked down. "Good coffee by the way," he said, deflecting awkwardly.

Mark laughed. "Alright. So I need to go to work, like I said, but I was wondering if you might do me a favour?"

He braced himself. Here it came. The request for money, or support for a cause, or help with his career, or an introduction to someone else.

"There's a classic car show on this Saturday," Mark went on. "I've been saving up my money for a few years and now I've got enough to buy something nice. Now, I know enough to avoid lemons, but I was wondering if you would mind coming along and helping me look? I want the best."

Tony blinked. "You want me to come along and look at cars with you?"

"Who better to ask than the world's best engineer?" Mark shrugged, and Tony felt warm inside. "Besides, it'll be fun. I love car shows, don't you?"

He did. And it did sound fun. And it wasn't exactly a date, was it, it was just...date-like. "Sure," he said smiling. "Why not?"

Mark grinned. "Great. And afterwards, I'll buy you dinner."

He couldn't remember the last time someone had offered to buy him dinner. "Sounds good," he admitted.

"It'll be – shit!" Mark glanced at his watch. "I really need to go. Let yourself out and help yourself to anything in the kitchen. It's the tall tower with 'Avengers' written on top, right?"

"You can't miss it," Tony agreed dryly.

Mark shook his head, amused. "You are so obvious," he said, and while Tony was still figuring out what that was supposed to mean, Mark grabbed his head and thoroughly kissed him. "Now that's a good thought to take to work to me," he said with satisfaction. "See you."

"See you," Tony echoed as he watched Mark run out the door. Well, that had been different. He leaned back against the counter and a slow smile spread across his face. He felt good. For the first time since Pepper left, he felt something other than pain and loss and numbness.

By the time he got home, there were a dozen new improvements to the Iron Man armour floating in his head, and he headed straight to his workshop, turned the music up and set to work.

This might just be something worth trying to hold onto.