So I'm just going to say since I don't think I'm going to own the Avengers anytime soon..or at all, that none of it belongs to me (obviously) and that isn't going to change for the rest of the story. Just decided to say that cause I really don't feel like writing another disclaimer.

Nursing what had to be his tenth cup of coffee that night, Tony sat huddled in the cramped corner seat of an old family diner.

"Hey, are you-"

"Tony Stark? Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist? Yeah that's me, who doesn't know that?"

Staring owlishly, the girl holding the coffee pot could only raise an eyebrow. "Well, I was gonna ask if you were okay and if you wanted a refill, cause you look like you need it, but okay." Turning around to walk back to the counter, the girl felt a large hand wrap around her wrist.

"Actually, I could do with another cup."

Turning yet again while letting out a soft huff, the girl began to fill his cup. "How many cups have you drank? It looks like you're living on the stuff." It wasn't much of an exaggeration, with dark bags under tired eyes and unruly hair, the man sitting in front of her sure didn't match the impeccable image of Tony Stark on the tabloids. "Maybe you should lay off on the stuff and actually sleep."

"What are you, my mother?" he snapped back at her.

"Geez, what's got your panties in a bunch?" she questioned while rolling her eyes.

"Why should I tell you anything? For all I know, you could be my mortal enemy tomorrow."

Chuckling she pulled a hand through her long tresses, "Trust me, I'm not, I'm a psychiatrist."

Still looking at her skeptically, Tony questioned, "And why is a psychologist working at a run down family diner at three in the morning?"

"Just… finding a job's tough." she muttered while looking over Tony's shoulder with a slightly ashamed look. An awkward silence elapsed and all that could be heard was the soft clinking of dishes being put away in the kitchen. Feeling slightly uncomfortable and unnerved, Tony decided to speak first. "We all have problems..."

"Every human being has some kind of insecurity, or problem. Weird problems."

"I meant on my team, the Avengers. I mean there's a man out of time, a man with major anger issues, and two master assassins. And really, what can't be wrong with them? Not to mention the demigod with an addiction to poptarts and more than a few screws loose… maybe from getting run over too many times. Add me into the mix and… sometimes I wonder how we can even be considered a team." Another silence elapsed before Tony slowly started to get up. "Well it's been a pleasure talking to you, but I think it's time to get back to my suits. Have a good night… or day."

As he walked out the door she turned and yelled after him, "You really should get some sleep!"

The next morning, found her jaw slackened and letter in hand asking her to be the Avenger's psychologist from none other than Tony Stark.

If you have any advice, suggestions or prompts or requests, I will gladly listen cause I'm starting to find that ideas are slightly hard to come by now.