Tony Stark liked to think of himself as a rather patient man. It was at this moment that he was wrong. It hadn't even been a day and already someone knew about Peter, and god, it had to be Barton didn't it? As soon as he got the alert from FRIDAY, he was on the floor where Barton was calculated to escape. If Barton knew, you could be sure that everyone else would by the end of the week. For a super spy, he wasn't exactly subtle, the trick was knowing who he would tell first.

Well, let's calm down about this for a second. If the threats worked, and oh he did intend to carry them out, then there would be no problem. The problem was in how clever Barton thought he was versus how clever he actually happened to be, and Tony was smarter than both versions of Barton combined. Maybe even marginally so (who was he kidding, he was 182.42% smarter than Barton^2 + Barton.)

His seething was caught by Bruce, who despite being a genius did have surprisingly good intrapersonal skills. Bruce, as always, was spot on. "Who found out?"

"Barton," Tony all but growled. He resisted the urge to begin pacing up and down the hall. He would find himself giving off an impression he didn't want, one of an antsy caged lion instead of the rightful predator he should be. Everything was about impressions, and Tony would rather keep his in place.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. "Through the vents I suppose? We'd better get to work on fortifying them. We can't have another incident."

"Yep, I'll get on that right away. I need something to do anyway. Find anything else out?"

"Yeah, actually, that's why I went to find you. I've done some more research into the hibernation patterns of animals, and how they wake up. We need to slowly increase the temperature like we've been doing, even higher than room temperature by the end of the process, but he should wake to make small trips out to do stuff, get food and such."

Tony looked up at that. He could talk to the kid sooner than later. "We need to restrict his access to the floor he's been staying on, and although I regret to move him, keeping him up on his Shelf might be dangerous."

Tony nodded slowly, turning abruptly to the direction of the lab and gesturing for Bruce to follow. They should make the changes right away. They fell into a familiar rhythm of work, the sounds of Tony's Tunes (as they were dubbed by Bruce) combined with the monotonous tapping of code (really, he could write this in his sleep) lured him into some form of dreaming.

"Sir? Karen is coming through with a distress call."

Tony had been sitting in his workshop, working on more security measures to get rid of SHIELD's crappy ones, when the alert came in. He froze, his fingers pausing just shy of the keys.

"What?"

"It appears has fallen unconscious on the roof of a building five miles west from your current location. Immediate attention is needed."

"Shit, what happened?" Tony stood up abruptly, pushing the keyboard away from the edge and closing down that part of the lab. He walked quickly through the halls, suiting up as he went.

" 's temperature is approximately 94 degrees, his heart rate has slowed down. His breathing is also concerning, all below the level of the average sleeping adult."

"Directions?" His voice reverberated metallically through the face of the armor. Instantly a map pulled up over the screen, and Peter's location showed up. FRIDAY kept updating Tony on Peter's vitals as he flew through the surprisingly bright city, for whatever hour it was at night. He sped up when he caught sight of the kid, heart thumping painfully in his chest. No. No. No. No.

Still, curled up slightly on the ground in a position that made it look like he had collapsed slowly. How long had KAREN spent begging Peter to tell someone, anyone. Tony prayed that he hadn't been too late. As soon as he landed, the suit opened up around him, and he rushed over to kneel beside Peter.

Pulling the mask off, Tony saw something he never wanted to see again. It looked like the kid was dead, blue lips and barely a breath escaping from between them. He cradled his head in his arms, resisting his thumb's sudden need to draw themselves across his cheek. They needed to get back to the tower. They flew back, Tony carrying Peter bridal style, someone pointing up at the suit shouting 'Iron Man, Iron Man' and he called Aunt May.

"Tony? Is everything alright?" She answered in that motherly tone that used to be reserved for Peter but somehow extended to him.

"Yeah, no, nope. Peter is freezing cold and unconscious. Is that normal for spiders? I don't know, is he dead? Is he going to-"

"Calm down Tony. This has happened before. He's gone into a sort of hibernation."

"Oh. Ok. Ok."

"I'll come over to the tower as soon as I get home from this trip, but I can't leave early. I'm sorry, but it might be a few days until then. Now, this is what you'll do..."

Tony scrubbed his eyes, leaning back in the chair and sighing. They had done everything May had needed them to do, and she was going to get there late tomorrow.

He rang her up as he made his way to the glorious savior that is coffee because FRIDAY had moved the pot to the communal kitchen on an effort to get him to socialize. "Hey, May, how's it going? I just want to warn you, the Avengers are going to be at the tower when you visit. Yes, Peter's fine. He's doing better actually..."

The conversation continued down through the hallway and into the kitchen, ranging from first Peter's health to Tony's, and although he'd say that he was better May was informing him that the average adult slept for 7-9 hours and not 45 minutes every two days. Listen, it wasn't his fault his mind worked at 92.53 miles per hour.

What perhaps, may have been his fault was when he walked into a room with a countertop full of two (2) super spies. They looked to be finishing off the leftovers (he wondered how that was possible with two super soldiers and some other, rather athletic people,) but stopped to stare at him. Seriously, he thought he was bad at social interaction. Sure he could play a crowd like whatever 16 instruments he happened to have in his closet, but personal interaction? Who's she?

He was broken out of his reverie by Clint, who was trying to quietly put down his fork. The clack of metal on ceramic seemed to spur them into action, or in this case into speaking.

"Yes, Stark?" Natasha asked, somehow making it sound polite.

"Ahem. yes, May, sorry but I have to go." He hung up and turned to the pair of super spies. "Wandered into the wrong room. It happens." His tone of voice dared her to question him, harsh with more strain and worry than he would've liked to endorse. His mission (get away from these people I don't want to talk to because I'm bad at emotions) was a success.

"What was with him?" Clint asked Natasha, his partner in crime and sometimes stealing cookies with help from FRIDAY.

"I don't know. He hasn't slept for a while, that's for sure. You can see the concealer around his eyes and the way he moves, he's exhausted."

Clint frowned at that, and put down his fork once again, although this time less awkward. "Who's May?"

"I don't think we should pry."

Clint paused, waiting for an explanation, but sighed when it wasn't forthcoming. "Yeah. For all that Stark seems to have done, he always tries to do good, doesn't he? I mean, he's trying to make this right, and…" he trailed off.

"And what?"

"I don't think we are." Natasha stayed silent. "I mean, we're sitting here in his home, eating his food, and he's working his ass off to get the council to put more flexibility in the accords. We should make an effort."

She hummed, a neutral noise, one that had Clint ready to try and convince her more, but she began to speak. "I'll try."

Bruce grimaced and shook his head. Even with everything that had happened, and the fact that some people had clearly broken the law, Tony seemed to think it was all his fault. The man could be stubborn in his beliefs, even if they weren't true, but not as stubborn as Rogers. For God's sake, the man went rogue without any warning and didn't even consider the fact that some people would've tried to help. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, as Rogers happened to be in the kitchen with... was that a salami sandwich?

Bruce took a few preparatory breaths, shaking his head minutely to get rid of his apprehensions. It didn't work, but who was he to complain? Rogers looked up at the sound of Bruce's footsteps and stood to confront him. Couldn't he do anything in peace?

"Yes, Rogers?" Bruce said before he could start. The man had his mouth open like a rather sad fish.

"Why are you all so unfriendly? First Tony, then you? I don't understand why you won't be nice." Rogers crossed his arms, standing tall as if to intimidate Bruce into an answer.

"Woah, okay, first of all, back down buddy. Why don't you take a seat and finish your sandwich? I'm just here to make some tea and go." Bruce sighed. For all that Steve acted like the polite boy-next-door type, he certainly felt entitled. "And this is the first time you've seen me in months and this is the first thing you say to me? Forgive me if I consider that to be off-putting."

Rogers frowned as if he realized just now how what he did could be considered to be rude. Really, the man was an idiot. "Oh, I apologize Bruce."

"Call me . The reason we're being 'unfriendly ' as you put it, is because most of the people that actually care about Tony haven't forgiven you yet. For what happened in Siberia and all the times before, yes even on the helicarrier. You've been a real pain in the ass to Tony ever since you've met him, and I'm not sure why. He hasn't done anything wrong."

"What? What do you mean? Of course Tony has done stuff wrong, that most of what he does!" Now Steve was angry. Bruce sighed again. What a temper on the man. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before.

"If most of Tony's decisions end up being mistakes, then I think letting you back into the tower was his greatest one yet."

Rogers' mouth snapped shut, cutting off his retorts. He sat down sharply, putting his hands on his lap in an act of closing himself off to Bruce. The kettle began to whistle, and Bruce poured out the boiling water into his mug. The scent of the tea warmed the air until Bruce left to his room. It was almost time for bed.