He was an inventor, a billionaire, a playboy, and a philanthropist. He did not belong here. He did not deserve this. He was in charge of the Avenger's for Christ's sake.

So SHIELD had decided he needed to see a counselor. A head shrink. This was not something he deserved. He had worked with the government to set up the accords. He had been the one who had been to hell and back. Not some suit behind a desk who decided he was unstable. Post-traumatic stress. This was insane. Granted, he was tired as hell, and it sure as shit had been a rough fucking three years. The accords, the Avengers breaking up, Pepper and he…that one hurt too much to focus on. Having the accords adjusted, getting SHIRELD back on its feet, dealing with the fact that his parents…fuck. He really needed to stop remembering bad things. There had to be an invention there. The unfuck your shit life button. He should look into that.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned his head back against the wall. It was late for an appointment like this, but Stark money could keep a lot of offices open past business hours. He shifted in his chair, leaned forward, and tugged on his tie, loosening it. He rested his elbows on his knees, and wished again, that he had said no to this.

The waiting room was nice, but not overtly expensive. A fountain sat in the corner, bronze, with a fat cherub holding a canister of water. He hated cherubs. Why the fuck anyone would need a fat baby angel was beyond him. He found himself scowling at it and quickly tried to modify his expression. He returned to perusing the room. A pleasant looking woman sat behind the panes of glass, the brown leather seats were older but in decent shape. He leaned back in his seat and laid his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes. Maybe this would be ok. Maybe this would help. He had been pretty stressed. He had been through a lot more than the average man. Maybe this would work. Pepper said he needed help. Pepper was smart and lovely. She knew this stuff.

He frowned. Fuck that. He did not need counseling. The world needed to stop sucking so damn much. This was total bullshit.

"Can you relax?" a voice said beside him. He tensed, dug his nails into his palms until it hurt, and looked the occupied chair three chairs down from his. Blond, crease between his eyes, irritated blue eyes and perfect damn teeth. . The sun setting through the windows cast him in an almost angelic glow.

Asshole.

Yep. The team was back together and molding nicely. Thor, Bruce, Nat, Clint. Even new members Wanda and T'Challa were ready to move on. But not him and Captain Dickhead. The first meeting had ended in Tony's broken nose, Steve's busted lip, and a broken conference room table. Meeting two had started out with bagels, cream cheese, and coffee, but ended with Natasha burying her face in her hands, and Thor praying to an unknown deity for peace.

Lastly, the third meeting had ended with Fury telling them both he didn't want to lay eyes on either of them until they "worked this shit out." He'd said that, told them both to go to hell, and disappeared.

So, really, there had been progress when you thought about it. Which he had told Pepper. And Pepper, who apparently hated him, had suggested this. SHIELD had made a few calls and here they were.

Steve's voice made his blood pressure rise and he felt a scowl form quickly on his face. Tony rolled his eyes. "Can you shut the hell up?" God, to be anywhere else right now.

Steve blinked back at him and frowned. "If this is going to work we're going to have to be respectful of one another."

"Thank you so much, Captain Goldilocks. So glad you are here to keep us on the path to righteousness."

Steve's frown of disapproval made an appearance, and he had an irrational need to flick him between his perfect eyebrows. Flick him. And then maybe punch him. Maybe there could be a bus there. To run him over. Only if convenient.

"Stark, I don't want to be here anymore than you. But the team…"

Tony felt anger rip through his body. He stood slowly and faced Steve walking down the row toward the other man, "And now we talk about the team? Where the hell was the team mentality when you left me frozen in Siberia?"

Steve's went blank, unexpectedly. "You left me no choice, Tony."

"You had a choice, Cap. You could have helped me. You could've told me. You could've done something. Fuck, Steve. Anything!"

"Tony, Bucky and I have a long history. Til the…"

Tony rushed forward until he stood directly in front of his chair. "If you say til the end of the line one more time…"

Steve slowly set down his magazine and rose to meet Tony's eyes directly. His jaw was tight, his face flushed.

Tony's stomach churned and his fists clenched. This was going so well.

There was a cough behind them, and they both turned slowly and looked back toward thea receptionist now standing in front of the door to the office. Her face was white, and she held a clipboard in front of her chest like a physical shield.

"The doctor can see you now."

Tony straightened and slapped on his best press smile. "Looking forward to meeting her. Right, Cap?"

Steve's face blushed even more and offered a halfhearted smile. "Yes. Thank you so much, ma'am."

Tony stooped down and grabbed his suit jacket off the table, but gestured to Steve to go first. Steve nodded and preceded through the large mahogany doors.

Yep. Definitley gonna need an unfuck my life button. Next big Stark Industries product to hit the shelves.