Tony tried to find himself table again, surrounded by his "team", but he wasn't there anymore. He was in the living room. He was watching himself in the living room, lying on a couch with Steve and Natasha and Clint bantering and Bruce reading. It was real, but not.

"I love you, Steve,"

"I know."

Thick haze was clouding his mind now. He didn't know how to describe being inside his own memory and watching it. Then the picture began to swirl and he was back in his chair, with Steve in his face, worried. "Ow."

"Tony? You with me?"

"I gotta...I'm not hungry," Tony said, carefully getting up and skulking out of the room.

Steve started to stand and head after Tony, but a hand on his arm stopped him. "Steve," Natasha said calmly. "Maybe you should just let him go."

The solider frowned, still watching over his shoulder, a bit reluctant. "Okay..." he finally sighed, though he felt strange. Was Tony okay? He didn't like wondering if he was or was not! "I'll just leave him alone for a while, I guess..."

Tony ambled to the living room upstairs then, feeling like he was in a daze. He had no idea what he planned to do. Hell, he barely knew who he was anymore. He was still Iron Man, but what had changed about him, too? What had he done? Where did he go?

And when did he decide to follow orders from Fury?

"I got this," Clint abruptly stood from the table, his mouth still half full of food as he walked off for the living room. Natasha acted as if she was about to follow, but decided against it and went back to her food.

"Hey," he waved when he saw Tony and moved to sit down. "You good?"

"No."

"Well, at least you've finally admitted it." Clint said, unfazed.

Tony bore his gaze into him. "I wasn't fooling you?"

"Not for a second." he said, "except that you've never been good at convincing us that you're okay."

"Good to know," Tony mumbled.

"Wanna talk about it?" Clint raised an eyebrow, not sure if the other man would take the offer. He figured it was worth a shot, though.

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know," he muttered, shaking his head just slightly.

"Well, that's a stupid answer."

"I just...I really don't know much of anything anymore."

"Well, it's not like you've done something bad that you might not want to remember. In fact, you've done a lot of good. So why are you so freaked about it?"

"I'm not freaked," Tony said a little too harshly, "I'm..."

"Reluctant?"

"No."

"So what the hell is it, then?"

"I don't know!" Tony snapped, looking away from Clint.

"That's still a dumb answer." The archer stared at him, arms folded over his chest. "You're Tony Stark. You have an answer for everything, and you always have your shit figured out. So figure it out."

Always have an answer for everything? He felt like laughing. He may have an answer, doesn't mean its right. He pursed his lips together and turned away from his "friend", and he knew Clint would catch on.

"I'll tell everyone that you need some time to cool off," he said, emotionless, and then Tony was alone with his thoughts and a skyline of the city.

He liked the view of the world below him. He always had; he could see everything, find the farthest stars, and caught storms. He hated storms. The rumbling thunder and flashing lightning reminded him all too well of bombs. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night during the storm and turning up his music as loud it would go, tinkering with something until the storm passed over and he went back to bed.

Tony never had anyone to console him during a storm. He didn't mind that, so he was going to treat this as a storm: alone and by the clock.

When Clint headed back into the room, Steve immediately snapped to attention. "Is he-"

"He needs some space," Clint said simply and took his place at the table beside Natasha.

Steve's shoulders slumped just slightly, though he gave a nod. Space. Okay, he could do that, he told himself. If Tony needed some time to cool down, he would allow him that time, though he already knew just how difficult that would be for himself.

He just wanted to help, and he just wanted Tony. His husband.

Steve made himself sit through the rest of dinner, smiling as the banter bounced back and forth and answering when asked a question. But at this point, he was tired, tired of everything, and he just wanted Tony. But he couldn't have him, even if he was in the building.

He helped with the dishes, wiped off the table, and excused himself. He was pretty sure they were occupied with Clint, who was dead set on playing a poker game. Steve unlocked the door to their "apartment" and walked inside. The lights were down.

"Jarvis?"

"From my readings, Mr. Stark is fully asleep in the master bedroom, sir," the AI automatically replied. "and the lab has not been compromised."

Steve smiled a little. "Thanks."

"Of course, sir."

He almost walked into the room and plopped down to their bed. Almost. Instead, he hovered in the doorway, just peeking in at Tony's sleeping form for a moment. He truly did want to just plop down and join him, but he refrained and decided that he would just sleep on the couch for now. That was going to be annoying, but he imagined that sharing a bed would make Tony uncomfortable, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He retreated back to the couch, drew the blanket over himself, and closed his eyes.

The next thing Steve knew, there was a clang and various curses. "Jarvis, why won't you let me in my lab?

He sat up and went to investigate. "Tony, what're you-"

"Why can't I get in my damn lab?" Tony snapped from where he had himself propped against the wall, wincing as he wrapped an arm around his tender midsection. "I want in there."

"You should be rest-"

"Why the hell can't I get in?!"

Steve sighed. He knew it was only a matter of time before Tony thought he was strong enough to work. "You know why."

He scowled. "I'm behind. I'll be behind for a long time. I might as well start now."

"Jarvis has all your notes stored. You can easily figure out what's going on."

Tony continued to glare at him as he limped his way back to the couch. "How'd you block my overrides?"

"I've been taught a few tricks," he said proudly, crossing his arms. At Tony's raised eyebrow, he smirked, "Okay, fine. It was Natasha."

"Damn Natasha," Tony muttered and ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"It's for the best, though," Steve pointed out with a shrug. He then moved to sit beside Tony. "You really should just rest."

"I hate resting."

"Tony."

"Steve."

Steve glared at Tony for a second before he chuckled a little to himself. "Every time."

"What?"

"You do this every time you're injured."

"Do what?" Tony asked innocently, though his expression gave it away that he knew exactly what Steve was talking about.

"You bitch, really."

"I don't bitch. I pester. I let you know that I'm fine, dammit. Because I am. I've worked in worse conditions." Tony said, waving an arm about. "You have to know that about me."

"I do, but I haven't really allowed it."

"You should allow it."

"No."

"Steve-"

"No."

"Aw, come on-"

"Look," the super soldier sighed. "I know you want to work, but just rest for a few days. Better to take it easy rather than injure yourself even further, which I know you are more than capable of doing."

Thinking, Tony suddenly hit Steve with his best puppy dog face, but it didn't look it did much. "What am I supposed to do while I 'rest'?"

"Gee, I don't know." Steve said sarcastically.

"I can't just sit there."

"Play checkers or something."

"I don't like checkers."

"Of course you don't," Steve rolled his eyes. "Tony you can do whatever you want as long as its relaxing, and you can be sitting down."

"Excellent, so let me in my lab so I can tinker with my stuff." Tony reasoned.

"You know what I mean."

Tony let out a long sigh and rubbed his face. "Well," he muttered and glared at Steve for a moment. "This is boring."

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

This resulted in a smile from Steve. "Maybe not. But I'm not going to let you into your lab again, so you might as well stop asking."

Tony's irritation started to come to a head. "You're not the boss of me, Steve."

"No, I'm not. But I'm trying to help you, because you don't want to help yourself the right way." the super soldier said as calmly as he could.

He didn't answer.

For what seemed like hours, Tony picked at his fingernails and Steve scratched at a non-existent itch on his nose. Finally, Tony muttered under his breath, "I'll watch TV."

"What show? The one where they talk about classic cars?"

The genius blinked. "How'd you know?"

Steve smiled. "I know a lot about you," he said simply before he stood up to retrieve the television remote for Tony. "We are married, remember?"

A strange look crossed Tony's face for the briefest of moments. "Uh, right," he muttered and glanced to his left hand, where his wedding ring was. Huh. That was still weird to him, that he was settled down with this guy. "Married."

As Steve watched Tony study his wedding ring again (and feeling incredibly awkward) he quickly put the TV on to the recordings, where Tony had made sure, even over the past 2 years, that he watched all of them over and over again. He tossed the remote to Tony. "Knock yourself out."

Tony nodded a thanks and then once the show began, and the engines were shown, Steve could tell that the wheels were turning in Tony's brain. How could I make it like that, but better? Could I make a duplicate and then make adjustments? No, that'd be difficult...

Steve often could hear Tony talking to himself if he wasn't paying attention. His thought process, he learned, was hard to understand in his own mind, but he couldn't exactly question him.

"I'm gonna go see what's going on out there. I don't suppose you're hungry?"

Tony shook his head, and Steve wondered why he bothered to ask. Tony was almost never ate breakfast anyway. He found it very "time consuming", but lately Steve had been forcing him to at least eat a bagel when he woke up so that he wouldn't complain of being so hungry at the wrong times. At times Steve felt like less a husband and more of a babysitter, yet he just could not complain. Love drives people to strange things.

Steve looked at Tony for a moment longer and then walked away, thinking maybe he would bring the genius back some coffee. He'd probably at least want that. Sighing, he headed into the main part of the mansion, where he could hear Thor booming about pop tarts. Goodness.

"Hey, guys," he said and walked into the kitchen.

Natasha, who was buttering a piece of toast, turned her attention to him. "Hello," she said quietly, eyes curious as she silently asked if Tony had any changes in his memory.

And Steve shook his head. "Watching TV. He has the same habits."

"I know it might seem like Tony's changed a lot since you met him, but you'd be surprised," Natasha said.

"Of course, you're speaking as his former personal assistant," Clint teased, earning himself a death glare. He took two pieces of buttered toast and stuffed them into his mouth. "Surprised Fury hasn't called at all."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Natasha chastised.

"I think he's just giving us some space while Tony recovers," Steve guessed, but it was unlikely. Fury wouldn't let a mission go pass unless it was a dire emergency.

"Tony won't be able to go if Fury calls us out," Clint said, still speaking with his mouth full.

Natasha gave him a stern look before nodding. "Right. But that's expected."

Steve frowned. He didn't know how he would feel about leaving Tony here if they had to go away for something.

Natasha seemed to know what he was thinking. "Don't worry. I bet there'll be nothing; Clint's just thinking aloud because he can't keep his mouth shut."

"Yeah, sure. What she said," Clint rolled his eyes.

"Right..." Steve sighed softly and sat down, suddenly not feeling like making himself anything for breakfast.

Clint shoved a plate of toast towards the solider. "Here. Eat this as an apology for me making you worry or whatever."

Steve accepted the toast, but he barely nibbled it.

"Drama aside, I'm bored." Clint grumbled, flicking crumbs off the table.

"You sound like Tony." Steve scoffed.

"He found out he was locked out of his lab, didn't he?" Clint grinned.

"He did."

"Ha!" Clint let out a laugh. "Bet he was pissed, huh?"

"Of course he was," Natasha stated simply, biting into her toast.

Steve smiled slightly. "Yep. He sure was."

"I can entertain him. He needs to know who I am more anyway, right?" Clint offered.

"Don't let him do it," Natasha warned, "they'll blow something up."

"Don't blow anything up," Steve said tiredly as he nibbled at the toast. "Please."

Clint let out a bored sigh. "Fine, fine," he muttered. "I won't."

"This isn't going to be an easy day is it?" Steve grinned softly at Natasha, and she replied with a silent groan.

The day was actually pretty mellow, considering. Tony mostly slept, ate, and continued to poke at the security mainframes so he could sneak into his lab, while the rest of the Avengers lounged. Steve often found Tony staring off into space, and had to repeat his name a few times before Tony would realize he was being spoken to. He decided to ignore it until it became a problem, assuming that Tony just had a lot on his mind, and he had promised to give him space, after all.

He had to sleep on the couch again that night.

It was funny, really, how it was Steve who ended up on the couch because before the accident, it was Tony being threatened by Steve that he would sleep on the couch if he didn't listen to whatever Steve was requesting.

The next day, Steve was sitting on the couch, sketchbook in lap, though he was just staring off into space and not drawing anything. Usually he was able to sketch in order to take his mind off of something, but his thoughts just felt too jumbled even for that. Everything was so crazy these days. He continued staring off until Natasha suddenly walked in.

"Fury's on the line."