I may have a little obsession with the character of Falcon, and decided to write this fic. Pretty much, this is where Sam bonds with each character. It's better than it sounds, I promise. The first one is Iron Man, where Tony had a panic attack (Like he gets in Iron Man 3) and Sam is the only one around to help him. This fix is mainly fluff with a little bit of angst thrown in, and lots and lots of bonding.

Disclaimer: Trust me, if I owned these characters Falcon would have his own film.

The suit was too small, too small and the room was too big and everything was blurring and shifting and oh god not another panic attack not now when he was alone in the tower not now oh god not now.

The suit released him and he fell out of it, the room a blur of shifting colours. The light were too bright and it was too warm and he needed out, he just needed to get out of the damn tower before he went unconscious and not now not now not now.

Stark lay slumped against the wall, his head pounding as images were thrown across his vision. Blood soaked Captain America cards, a vortex, a sceptre, eyes taken over the blue that meant they were no longer in control, flashing lights, the buildings whizzing past as he fell past them. Captain lying broken on the sidewalk, Natasha with her chest full of bullet holes, a once terrifying and now terrifyingly still creature that was once Bruce Banner, Clint with a knife stuck out of his back, Thor's hammer lying abandoned on the blood soaked ground, Wanda and Pietro's bodies entwined and still on the ground. Pepper's eyes glazed over and empty of the life that always radiated from her. Blood, so much blood, so much blood.

Then there were hands grabbing his shoulders and a shadow over him, but still those pictures invaded his brain until he couldn't take it anymore. Someone was saying his name, a voice he dimly recognised but couldn't place. The hands on his shoulders were anchoring him there. He let himself focus on the steady weight, trying to steady his gasping breaths. His heart was beating and his head was pounding and he couldn't breathe, but the hands were still there on his shoulders so he was okay. "Stark. Stark, woah man, look at me man."

The images were still flashing across his mind. He cried out when he saw Pepper plummet past him, felt the way his gut wrenched as the love of his life fell. He didn't catch her. He should have caught her. She nearly died because he didn't catch her. It was too hot, too hot, too small, too small.

"Focus on my voice. Just focus on my voice, okay?"

Colours were still screaming across his vision, but he focused on the voice. It wasn't Steve, because the Captain had never called him 'man'. The hold was too strong for Banner, and the voice was American, so not Thor. Not Fury, and not Natasha, obviously. It could be Clint. Clint was good when he had attacks. No, Barton was out on a rooftop somewhere tracking a target, so who was the person kneeling in front of him? They were all gone. All his team were gone.

The colours pounded through his head, making his stomach flip and his limbs go numb. The face in front of him kept sliding in an out of focus. He dimly saw dark skin and white eyes, but the tears were still blurring his eyes too much to take in any features. It could be Rhodey. His brilliant mind was spinning out of his control and it scared him. No, it wasn't Rhodey. His friend was out somewhere sitting through a long senator meeting, too far away to be here right now.

He focused on the hands, letting them anchor him down and keep him from falling. They were heavy and sure on his shoulders. He opened his eyes and tried to keep them open long enough to take in the man in front of him.

The man in front of his was a silhouette. What looked like wings of metal stretched out from beside him, crumpled as if he was just about to fold them when he found Stark. It was Sam Wilson. Falcon, the one who helped out the Captain in his search for Bucky. They had exchanged only a couple of words since they'd met, but from what he could tell Sam was like Steve. Good, kind, caring, loyal. Tony had wanted to have a look at his wings.

Blood. So much blood. He was pulled into the nightmare once again, and suddenly the Falcon had joined the pile of corpses etched onto the back of his eyelids.

"Stay with me Stark. Just keep calm. Whatever you can see, you're not there. You're here, in the Stark tower. Everyone's okay."

"The team…"

"The team are all okay. I got a call from Cap just five minutes ago to ask if I could cook something because he reckons that all the avengers will be back by this evening. They're all okay." The words made his heart slow down a bit, but it was still beating erratically and his breath was still refusing to allow enough oxygen into his lungs.

The hands left his shoulders, and for a split second terror clawed at his insides. Falcon was leaving him alone. He was going to be alone. He was going to be alone. Like in that vortex. Where everywhere he looked there was just empty space, no sign of human life.

A minute later something cool was placed into his hands; something awkward and so heavy he nearly dropped it. It was massive, made out of a metal that Stark didn't recognise. They gleamed in the light coming from the windows, as if they had just been shined, but they were peppered in little scratches. Sam must have given him the wings off his uniform. They were really heavy, and the lather straps would probably cut into his shoulders after prolonged flying. The parts that controlled them were quite vulnerable, considering that if they were hit the man trying to fly with them would plummet to the ground. They were incredible feats of engineering, but they could be improved.

"You said a while ago you could make them better. I'm going to hold you to that." Sam's tone was urgent, and Stark nodded. He headed towards his lab, Sam following behind. First he had to take a scan of the wings, identify all the individual components. Then he would try and make it more light weight, piece by piece, without losing any of the power they carried. It would be difficult, but come on, he was Iron Man!

After three hours of working, two cups of coffee and his third wing prototype, Stark smiled to himself. Wilson had stopped the panic attack without it even properly starting, the only way he knew how. He picked up a spare mobile hone and slid it into his pocket. If he had that to work on he might just be able to pull himself back before an attack even started. That just might work.