Note: Before you start this fic, there are a few things you should know. I have never written a stony fic before and though I do ship it, I have a hard time with it. Well, I basically have a hard time with the transition from flirtatious banter into an actual relationship. Thus, this fic will probably touch on things that could piss people off. One of those things being that I don't see Steve Rogers being someone who agrees with homosexuality. So be warned of complications concerning that. And don't assume that what I write is what I think.

Regardless, this is a stony fic that will (um, hopefully) have a happy ending. ^^ Thank you for reading!

Tony looked out the window of his temporary penthouse in Miami, trying to pick out what were clouds and what were the frothy edges of the ocean. His mouth was still running—he had the uncanny (sometimes annoying) ability to talk while he mind was other places. It had bitten him in the ass more times than he could count, but this was Bruce, so he didn't really care. After all, it wasn't like the other man was even listening, but Tony wasn't listening either, so he just let himself go. Life was good, life was great. He'd injected himself with a virus that had made people into fleshy meat bombs and things were going great. No more shrapnel in his heart, no more arc reactor. Just a big scar that even Extremis couldn't heal.

Yup, everything was fantastic. That morning he'd just found out that due to scheduling, he wasn't going to see Pepper for a good two months while she worked on hiding away Extremis forever and underwent treatment to stop the fact that she could burn a hole through a sheet of steel when she was angry. Little things.

"Tony," Bruce said, but Tony didn't listen and kept talking. "Tony, hey. Hello, I'm talking now."

He finally realized that when Bruce said he was talking that meant he should be shutting up. "Oh, sorry. I thought you were just sleeptalking on me."

Bruce frowned. "I'm sorry about that. Look, I'm not a therapist, but I think you're right. You need to face New York again."

Thankfully, New York had been becoming less of a cue for a momentary heart attack. "What, was I talking about New York?"

"Yeah, you were." Bruce put his glasses back on and sat up straight again. "I think you need to go back there, but not to the Tower, not just yet."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're smarter than you look?" He didn't want to talk about New York right now. Actually, never talking about it sounded like a great idea.

"Tony, please be respectful about this. Please?"

"Like you were so respectful to me?"

Bruce passed a hand over his face, letting out a tired sigh. "I said I was sorry already."

"Not forgiven," Tony said, closing his eyes and tipping his head up as he reclined in the chair. "I appreciate the help, Jolly Green, but I'm not going back to New York to go on some mission for personal healing."

"Then what about healing someone else?" Bruce asked.

Tony opened one eye. "Sorry, can't. Don't do well with people."

"What if it's a friend?"

He frowned. "Look, I'd love to help you get rid of Hulk Syndrome if that's what you want, but I don't think Extremis is the ticket. I'm pretty sure that would turn you into something a lot worse than a giant green alien guy."

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head. "No, that's not what I meant. It's Steve."

Now that was interesting. "I heard something about that. His dead friend came back to say hello, right? Except—like things that are supposed to be dead—he came back with a vengeance?"

The other man nodded grimly. "He's in really bad shape, Tony."

"He'll get over it. Can we get back to talking about me now? About how I singlehandedly fought off a demon disease?"

"SHIELD is considering talking him off the Initiative."

"What? I want to be off—"

"Permanently." Bruce swallowed, taking off his glasses again and twirling them around his fingers. "I've tried talking to him, but I can't get through. Natasha couldn't get anything either."

Tony sat up. "Is he like, psycho now?"

"Uh…not exactly. I think he needs someone like you. You'll force him to do new things and get angry at him and make him do something besides what he's doing now."

He didn't do therapy. He certainly didn't administer it. But Tony had to admit that one of his favorite hobbies was making Steve Rogers uncomfortable. And yeah, he still had some stupid childhood admiration thing going on. "So, if I do this, what would you have me do?"

A look of relief crossed Bruce's face. "I can't really explain what's going on with him. I don't really know—he won't let anyone do any sort of testing or diagnosis or anything. Basically, think of him as a puppy."

"Now we're making pet analogies for Captain America?"

Brue continued without skipping a beat. "He needs socialized—gradually introduced to everything. He needs to be in as many social situations as possible and he needs to relearn everything from cocktail parties to ordering food at McDonald's."

Tony shot his friend a puzzled look. "You're losing me. Did Steve get amnesia or something?"

"No, no. It's just complicated. You have to, uh, experience it. Basically, being alone is killing him. "

"So you want me to be his roommate."

"Essentially, yes. Until he mellows out or…you know, finds a girlfriend or something."

Tony groaned, slumping back into the chair. "You want me to set him up, don't you?"

"No! I mean, if you could, I think that would be best."

Great, now he was not only supposed to babysit the Human Popsicle, but he was supposed to set him up too? Tony couldn't really imagine Steve talking to a woman, let alone touching her. Natasha didn't count—Steve could work with women, but he sure as hell couldn't date one. But it was a project, and Tony liked projects. Besides, Pepper told him he needed to take a vacation anyway, though going back to New York didn't sound like much of a vacation.

Bruce sighed. "You don't have to do it, I just figured I would ask. I mean, you're probably the closest person to—"

"JARVIS, pack my bags, we're going on an adventure."

The house was exactly what Steve Roger's house would be. Old brick crumbled at each corner, with white speckles of quartz or maybe that was paint that flecked the sandy salmon color. Behind Tony's tinted red glasses, it looked a little too warm. Ivy was growing on one corner that contrasted nicely to the peeling white paint on the windowsills. He rang the doorbell again and Mark 57 shifted behind him with an electronic murmur. Tony knew New York real estate and though the house looked small, it wasn't touching the houses beside it and it wasn't a condo. That meant SHIELD had forked over a lot of cash for it. Cash that Steve probably deserved for saving the world a few times over.

"Hey, Private Ryan, open up," Tony called when he heard footsteps from inside. "Don't make me blow the door open."

The footsteps came closer and the old wooden door came open with a little thud, revealing Steve Rogers standing in the foyer with a smile on his face. "Sorry, I was busy upstairs."

Tony quirked a brow. He'd been expecting Steve to look ragged or shell-shocked or something. Instead, he just looked normal. Same blonde hair, same blue eyes, same charismatic, everything-is-okay smile. So Tony gave a smile in return and clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Just so you know, I'm moving in."

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, Bruce called me yesterday. "

As he looked around the house, it was clear that Steve was slowly adapting. There was still a radio on the counter scratching out some terrible jig music, but the appliances were all stainless steel. The floors were all wood except for the bathroom and the kitchen and the entire house was spotless. Steve showed him around and didn't skip any closets or deter him from snooping around the master bedroom. To Tony, nothing seemed wrong. Everything was clean, organized, and there were no skeletons in the closet. Steve wasn't even afraid to show him the Avengers scrapbook he'd made in his free time, full of blurry Polaroids and newspaper clippings. Tony slammed the book shut at a picture of the wormhole, but didn't miss a beat when Steve asked him if anything was wrong.

"I don't have the reactor anymore—I'm still getting used to having a real heart again."

"Oh, I read something about that. And I see you created a few new suits to help you out."

"Yeah, did you like that? I thought it was pretty cool." He smiled, but inwardly he wondered if Steve had even been invited to the briefing about Extremis. Something told him that the answer was no.

The first sensation that something was wrong washed over him when a silence settled between them. Steve's eyes were locked with his for a few seconds before the blonde lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

"I made lunch."

Tony blinked. "Well did you hide it somewhere? I didn't see anything in the kitchen."

"Well, I mean, I was starting to make lunch when you got here. "

Tony shook his head. "I was thinking we should go out for lunch. There was a nice looking café down the street. I'll buy."

Expecting Steve to say no, Tony's eyes widened a little when the other man nodded. "Okay. I've never been there, but it looks good."

"Are you okay?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. None of this made sense. Steve was acting perfectly normal. He was agreeing to go out to lunch—something that Bruce had been hinting was something that would sent Captain America into a panic attack.

Steve's brow furrowed. "Of course I'm okay. Why? Is something wrong?"

"There's supposed to be something wrong," he said. "You're supposed to start getting uncomfortable and freaking out on me. "

"Why would I do that? We're just going to lunch, right?"

Tony narrowed his eyes, peering closer. Steve's pupils were pricked, a sign of stress, or maybe it was just because there was a lot of sunlight in the room. There was a little bit of pink ringing his eyes, but Tony couldn't tell if that was just normal or if he'd been crying earlier. Then he noticed that color was coming to Steve's cheeks.

"You're overheated. Have you been exercising? Running away from something?"

Steve jerked his head away. "Are we getting lunch or not?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Tony said, following Steve down the stairs to the foyer. Something was off, he just couldn't place what it was and that unnerved him.

When they arrived at the café, Tony ordered a black coffee and an orange scone. Steve got a BLT and a fruit smoothie.

"That is beyond lame, Steve," Tony said after his friend finished ordering.

"I like smoothies and I like BLTs."

"But you're Captain America. At least get a hot dog and a Coke. You've got a reputation to uphold."

Steve laughed, but it wasn't a polite one like Tony was expecting. It was just a genuine, friendly sound. "Yeah, well, I'm Steve Rogers right now, not Captain America and I like smoothies and BLTs."

They got their food after a few minutes of waiting and Tony picked out a table by the window. The food wasn't that great, but Steve seemed to like it so Tony didn't complain. Usually he would complain anyway just to try and ruin the mood, but he was still puzzled as to why this wasn't freaking Rogers out. Steve seemed to notice that Tony was staring and flashed a smile before pointing to his chest.

"So, how did you lose the reactor?"

God, that smile was just so goofy-looking that Tony had to smile back, though he tried to turn it into a smirk. Reach forward, he snagged the pickle off of Steve's plate and took a bite with a loud crunch. "Last bad boy I fought gave me some new powers. I haven't experimented with them too much, but one of the inherent abilities is healing. So I was finally able to get the shrapnel out of my ticker and ditch the reactor."

"Hm. Is it strange not to have it in your chest anymore?"

Tony glanced down, still half-expecting a blue glow from his shirt. "Yeah, it is, but I'm happy it's gone. I was in constant pain and didn't even know it until the reactor was out." He took another bite of the pickle and watched as Steve's eyes lingered on his sternum. "So, Capsicle, what's new with you? I heard you and Natasha Turnmeon went on a mission together."

Steve looked up and Tony swore he saw a bit of shock in those eyes before he spoke. "Yeah, we did."

"So…what? Did Clint beat you up when you came back?"

Steve looked down at his plate and offered a half smile. "No. He's overseas somewhere, I think. Regardless, nothing happened between Natasha and me, if that's what you're asking."

"Mm, I think something happened." Tony left it at that and looked out the window. The sun was bright outside even though it was still pretty cold out. New York was always cold in his opinion—that was why he liked Florida. People scuttled by with grim looks on their faces despite the sunlight, none of them even noticing that two of the Avengers were just a few inches away behind a pane of glass. It was funny how life worked that way.

"Natasha is with him now," Steve said quietly.

Tony's eyes traveled over but his head was still facing the window. "With who?" But they both knew the answer. Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. He'd read his briefings.

Steve looked at his smoothie straw as if it was the Hope Diamond. "I'm pretty sure they make these things to rip you off."

"What, the straw?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's huge, so you're drinking more of it faster. Then once it's empty, you have to buy a new one. "

"You're stupid. They do that so that all of the chunks don't get stuck in your straw." He'd let the subject change this time, but only because they were in public and a crazy Cap could get people killed.

"That sounds like a bad excuse. "

"So does changing the subject," Tony said nonchalantly, talking a swig of his coffee. It tasted horrible thanks to the fact that he'd eaten Steve's pickle first, but he just made a face and stuck his tongue out a few times before drinking more. The café was average, the coffee was average—hell, even the pickle was average. Yet as he listened to Steve start to explain why he was convinced that the smoothies were a scam, Tony decided it was the perfect place for two above-average people to just sit back and talk before the torture began.