A/N: So basically this was meant to be set after Wanda first scared the heck out of everyone, Bruce and Tony fought, and they're on their way to Clint's home but plot twist it's taking a lot longer for some reason, because, if I remember correctly, it didn't take very long in the movie, but I might be wrong.

WARNING: OMORASHI. Please go look up what that is right now if you don't already know.

Steve knew it would probably end up being an overnight stay on the quinjet. He didn't particularly want to try and change that, because everyone was exhausted, but, honestly, he couldn't do such long flights, and everyone on the team knew why already. Steve supposed it must've slipped their minds, or perhaps no one wanted to be the one to mention it, himself included. It wasn't something he particularly liked to talk about- his bladder, that is. More specifically, the fact that his superhuman metabolism made it fill so fast that there was no way he could just wait all night, like…well…anyone else probably could. He tried not to think about that, though, because he didn't have to go yet.

He sat down and shut his eyes, but he wasn't tired, so he just thought to himself for awhile. After what happened, everyone was more quiet than usual. Clint was at the front of the jet, steering. Tony was draped across several seats, probably asleep. Bruce was curled up on the floor. His eyes were open, but he was just staring at the floor. Thor was watching out the window; Steve assumed he really liked the clouds, because that's all he seemed to want to do while they were up in the jet. Natasha was the only one who was moving around, but Steve could tell that she'd been affected by whatever she saw in the strange vision she'd been pulled into. She seemed just as confident, but slightly less at ease, checking various monitors over several times, walking over to see how Bruce was doing, asking if Clint wanted a break from flying the jet, and then, when she had nothing left to do, walking back and checking the same monitors again. Steve thought of the visions he'd had earlier that day.

The war's over, Steve. He opened his eyes, certain for just a second that he'd actually heard that, but still, no one had moved. Tony was still sprawled out on some seats. Bruce was still on the floor. Thor was still looking at clouds. Natasha hadn't even moved, still leaning against a wall as she watched a radar. (Steve was tempted to ask her what exactly it did, but he tended to be slow at learning anything related to technology, and he was fairly certain she wasn't in the mood for explaining.)

He shifted position slightly, and that's when he felt the first twinge of need in his bladder. Steve had been expecting it, really, but now he did his best to think of anything else. He told himself that he'd gone a little more than an hour ago, so he'd be fine to hold it for longer. They couldn't be in the air for too long, right? Clint had to rest sometime. Bruce was in no condition to pilot anything. Natasha didn't seem to be, either. Waking Tony up was never a good idea, and, of course, letting Thor fly meant things would get bumpy. Surely they'd just stop somewhere when Clint got tired. Even if they didn't make a formal stop and landed the quinjet in the middle of the woods, Steve could then get out and go.

Thinking about it made it worse. He'd learned that pretty quickly. He went out of his way to think about other things, but nothing held his interest all of a sudden. Now that he'd acknowledged his bladder, he couldn't un-notice it. It was always there, whether it was the center of Steve's attention or just insistently poking at the corner of his mind. He had to pee.

He managed about a half an hour like that, staying quiet and mostly still. To Steve, it seemed like much longer. His bladder filled so fast, it still amazed him sometimes. Looking at the clock, he'd only been sitting there for a half an hour, but it was as if there was a constant trickle of fluid adding more to his bladder. He glanced around. Tony was still asleep. Natasha was sitting quietly, on the verge of dozing off. Bruce had fallen asleep. Thor hadn't, talking quietly with Clint. Steve tried to focus on their conversation, but it was boring. Thor was talking about Asgard, which Steve might've found interesting at another time, but now, anything that didn't get his mind off his rapidly filling bladder was too dull for him to focus on. He shifted again in his seat, starting to bounce his leg a bit. He tried to do so quietly, not wanting to draw attention to his problem, even though it probably would be helpful. Landing the plane would mean waking everyone, and Steve really didn't want to do that. They deserved some rest.

But, his bladder didn't really care how tired the team was or how considerate Steve wanted to be. It was beginning to demand relief. His foot-tapping got more insistent, and he moved a hand to his thigh, wishing he could grab himself to relieve some of the pressure. At the front of the plane, where Thor and Clint were, it must not have been noticeable, or maybe Natasha was just exceptionally good at picking up on Steve's discomfort, or, probably, a little of both, because now she was looking up at him, clearly tired but looking for some reason to stay up.

Natasha was very aware of Steve's problems with his bladder by now, as they'd spent a lot of time with each other. Steve didn't have to say anything for her to know he was uncomfortable. "Do you know when we're landing?" He asked quietly.

"Not sure. Maybe soon." She smirked slightly. "You're the one who always wants to make sure no one's getting dehydrated. Maybe you shouldn't always practice what you preach."

"Trust me, I know." Steve's leg-jiggling sped up a bit more, and he shifted again. The belt on his suit felt too tight. It was digging into his bladder.

"I can ask him to land for a minute or two."

Steve shook his head. "I'm alright."

"For how long?" Steve was fairly certain that she took some odd pleasure in making him uncomfortable.

"Until we land."

"And if that's not for a few hours?"

"I can wait a few hours." Steve knew that he really couldn't. He'd make it another half hour at most.

"If you say so." She turned away from him in her seat, but Steve knew she was still looking at him, through a reflection in something-or-another. Steve would've tried to figure out what, but he had more pressing problems at mind.

As quietly as possible, Steve loosened his belt. It helped a little by easing the pressure, so he just took it off completely. It helped, and he nearly let out a sigh of relief, but he stopped himself.

It wasn't long before Steve was basically bouncing in his seat, his legs pressed together. His bladder was sticking out in his nearly skin-tight uniform; a mixture of his extremely fast metabolism and the power in his muscles meant he quite literally filled his bladder to capacity when he had to. He was thinking to himself that he should probably ask Clint to land the jet before he made a mess. Right when he was about to say something, Natasha got up, walking over to Clint and quietly asking him something. Steve strained to hear what they were saying, but he couldn't. After a minute, Natasha walked to the back of the plane, where Steve was still bouncing uncomfortably.

"He said it'll be about twenty minutes." Steve wondered if she could read minds or something.

"Okay." Is all he said in response. Even conversation was taking a back seat to his desperation by now. "Any chance we can make a pit stop? It's…ah…urgent…"

"I can tell." She still seemed so calm about the whole situation. "We're over a forest. Nowhere to land. I asked him."

"Why?"

"Because you seem pretty uncomfortable."

"I am." Steve didn't need the reminder, pressing his thighs together. He glanced around, hoping his eyes would find a stray bottle or something, but he knew there wouldn't be. "There's nowhere we can land?"

"Not for fifteen minutes, at least."

"Damn."

"Language, Steve." Natasha was trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn't working. Steve couldn't focus on humor. He couldn't focus on anything other than not completely wetting himself. Noticing this, Natasha stopped. "It's just twenty minutes. Try not to think about it."

"Too late." Steve didn't realize that he'd been talking so loudly, but Thor had noticed them, and was now looking from the front of the jet. It only just now seemed to click for him why Natasha had asked about stopping.

"We must land soon." Thor turned back to Clint, sounding concerned. Thor never seemed to have to deal with these issues himself, but he'd seen two situations where Steve hadn't been able to hold it any longer, and he wasn't fond of the embarrassment and shame that Steve showed afterward.

"We will. I'm looking for a clearing." Clint responded. Natasha went back over, presumably to help find somewhere to land.

Steve rocked back and forth in his seat, telling himself to just wait a few more minutes. Surely one of them could find somewhere to land. A small leak escaped him anyway, and he instinctively reached down, squeezing himself through the fabric of his uniform. His muscles were trembling slightly from the effort. "Hurry…" He mumbled, doubting they'd pay attention.

It had been two minutes, but Steve was quickly unravelling as a few more leaks escaped him, leaving a small dark patch on his clothes. He didn't bother to move his hand when Natasha came back again, knowing it would most likely mean the end of his control. "Hanging in there?" She asked.

"Not exactly." His face was flushed bright red, a bit of sweat on his forehead. "Please tell me you're landing the jet."

"Soon. We can land in about five minutes."

Steve let out a groan, his head going back a bit.

"You can do it. Just hold on a little longer."

"Mhm." Steve was doing a full-on dance in his seat, now. He had an iron grip on his crotch, his legs contorting in every way he could thing of that might buy him a few extra minutes of control. "Trying…"

Trying clearly wasn't enough, though, because a wave of desperation sent a stream of warm urine out of him that lasted several seconds before he gained control once again. His bladder continued the spasms, and Steve tried to fight them. Natasha tried more encouragement, but it was clear that listening wasn't high on Steve's priority list.

"Hn…no…I'm…I can't…" Steve's bladder spasmed once again, and he soon felt warmth flowing over his hand, which he then moved. His clothes were quickly soaked, and his stream was still going strong, next pooling in his chair, and, when that could hold no more, flowing onto the floor and creating a puddle around him. To Steve, it seemed like his bladder took forever to empty, and, though he knew everyone was staring, he couldn't help but relax at how good it felt to finally empty his aching bladder.

When he stopped, he was already red in the face, but he refused to meet anyone's eyes.

"It's alright." Thor was the first to speak. "You tried your hardest, and that is what matters."

Steve nodded once.

Natasha didn't say anything, but she grabbed a set of Steve's clothes from a compartment, walking back over and handing them to him. Steve took them and tried to smile, because words wouldn't come.

Immediately, Steve was given the privacy to change clothes (everyone had their backs turned, but Steve was fairly certain that Natasha was looking at him through a reflection of something again) and there was help with cleaning the mess. Steve sat in a clean chair when it was all over, hoping to get a bit of rest before they reached their destination.