The first time, Steve didn't think anything of it.

Natasha had flown them to Germany before they were a team, and she flew the plane often. When they boarded the Quinjet after a fight in upstate New York, he listed towards the cockpit, still a little off balance from the last explosion. Natasha, who had been a few yards behind him, was suddenly skirting around him to slip into the cockpit. She buckled herself into the pilot's seat and glanced over her shoulder at Steve.

He blinked at her, confused by her urgency. Tired, he brushed it off and sat.

Natasha was on assignment the next time they got a call. Thor was off in Asgard, so the remaining four of them suited up and headed to the roof.

Clint took off running as soon as the elevator doors opened. "I call pilot!"

The rest followed at a more leisurely pace. "What are you, five?" Tony asked as they climbed in.

"And a half," Clint retorted, sticking out his tongue. "Come on, Nat never lets me fly when she's here."

"Go ahead," Steve said. "I don't have a valid pilot's license."

"Take us away, Pigeon Boy!"

"Fuck off, Tin Man."

Tony Stark's private jet was sitting on the tarmac, and for once it wasn't waiting on Tony Stark.

"We're half an hour late," Steve repeated. "Where is the pilot?"

"Don't worry, Jim's a miracle worker," Tony said, filling a glass from the bar. "He's been violating the laws of time and space for years to get me places on time."

"I have half a mind to get us in the air myself right now."

Tony crossed the plane and pressed a glass into Steve's hand. "Calm down. Just wait and let the man do what I pay him to do."

"Hello, lady and germs, I'll be your captain this evening."

Tony looked at Steve as they settled in. "Hear that, Cap?" he asked, eyes twinkling. "You've been replaced. By a lowly lab monkey."

"Hey now!" Darcy yelled from the cockpit.

Bruce glanced at Tony. "Be nice to the person flying the plane."

"Excellent point. Darcy, my favorite lowly lab monkey? Why are you flying the plane?"

"Because I need practice flying with distractions and you all count," she shot back. "Classified things depend on it."

"We're only a distraction?" Tony muttered.

"We can definitely do better than that," Clint replied.

"No."

"But Agent Coulson, I—"

"Go sit with the team, Captain. They need you."

Steve looked back at his teammates; it had been a rough battle and it showed. Bruce was passed out, curled around a snoring Tony. Natasha was cleaning some of Clint's minor wounds as he bitched about it. Thor just looked exhausted, as opposed to his usual, exuberant personality. Even Coulson was favoring one side, evidence that he had been injured and likely shouldn't be flying the Quinjet back to New York.

But if there was one thing Phil Coulson was good at, it was being stubborn.

"You're joking." Steve gazed wide eyed at his team. "You're not joking?"

Clint cleared his throat. "You have to admit, you don't have the best record with bringing planes home safely."

"I was trying to save everyone!"

"We know," Bruce said, leaning forward. "They're just a superstitious bunch with paranoia leaking out their ears."

"It's not paranoia if everyone really is out to get you," Tony quipped from where he was examining a tablet.

"True," Natasha said. "And that list is already long, so we're not taking any chances. As long as I'm there, you're not touching my flight controls."