AN: Sorry this chapter really sucks. I just wanted to wrap up what I started last chapter but I lost motivation and direction halfway through and I just wanted to get it over with so I'll post this. After this it probably won't be linear - as in, it won't be like every single day. Obviously it'll be linear in Tony's character development and things like that. Please send me prompts! I have no idea what I'm doing with this!

To the Guest who left a review: Thank you for the recommendation! I'll do that soon. I don't know about next chapter, because Tony would probably be really mortified at this point, but definitely soon. That's one of my favorite tropes actually and I hope I do it justice when I write it! XD To Me And Not You 1001: I'm so glad that you noticed that! I thought it would be a good way to differentiate. I actually haven't read the comics (oops) but I've watched the movies and read a lot of fanfics and wikis. I'm glad you liked the freakout over the body too! I was so so so worried it would be too confusing or gory. I'm glad it wasn't too much.

"What the hell happened?" Fury fumed as the elevator door opened before he was surrounded by furious Avengers, all shushing him angrily. He was so shocked by the treatment he was actually silent, and was glaring at them about to speak when Natasha cut him off.

"What happened?" she hissed. "What happened is Stark is being targeted, and we don't know how or why. What happened is we were called on a mission and then told it was a trap-" she ignored Fury's interruption of "So Barton did get my transmission" and forged on "-and returned to find Stark being attacked, and we had left him without any defence. What happened is Stark was turned into a child, and despite actually being an adult he cannot care for himself right now as an Avenger needs to, and we did exactly what they wanted us to do. What happened is a little boy who is already having trouble with what he's been through was terrorized and brutalized, and no one was there to defend him or stop it. What is going to happen is someone is going to be with Tony at all times now, and it's going to be an Avenger." She finished her quiet tirade with a small huff. Fury contemplated how to respond, but couldn't really deny any of what she said. She had either shocked or terrified the agents behind him into silence.

"Stark is a grown man, no matter what he looks like now-"

"No," was all Bruce said, a low growl, but it was enough. Even Fury knew not to get on his bad side. The doctor took a deep breath before looking at Steve and whispering "I need to tap out." He slowly made his way down the hall while Steve crossed his arms and glared, something the director never thought the loyal Captain would do to a superior.

"Tony is sleeping right now," he said softly, voice full of warning. "Don't wake him."

It was incredible the change that had come over the Avengers. Each regarded Tony with some distaste (except Bruce), some with more distaste than others, but the amount of protectiveness they felt for the man was unrivalled, and they knew he felt the same about them (even before his hysterical display). They were a team, and even if they disliked each other sometimes they worked well and had each proved themselves in their own way. The protectiveness and - none of them would admit it if he asked - care they felt for Tony was amplified with him in the state he was. Fury clenched his jaw, working to control the urge to shout and demand. He knew it would get him nowhere with this lot.

"Um, excuse me, Captain," a medical assistant said in a soft voice as they stepped out of the elevator, meeting Steve's eyes. "We received word there was an injured agent?" Steve's expression softened.

"That was Tony," he said softly back. "You can see him when he wakes up. It didn't seem immediately urgent."

Fury resisted the urge to shout, clenching his fists. "Captain, report."

"We were on our way to the mission point when Natasha and Clint turned the quinjet around and told us it was a trap. When we arrived there was a missionary group and several of the robots present yesterday at the... incident. They were..." He paused for a moment, thinking, a fleeting moment of anger crossing his face. "Interrogating Tony. We dispatched them and attempted to calm Stark down, during which the leader... scientist... whoever he was, apparently woke up and pulled a gun out of somewhere." He gestured to the walls. "I think you can guess the rest." He glanced around at the destruction and the agents picking over it, the horrified face of one as they lifted the edge of Thor's cape up. "Cyanide capsules were so much cleaner," he muttered. Fury shook his head, but couldn't deny it. He still didn't get a clear picture, but it was enough that he could wait for a formal briefing.

"JARVIS, send me the footage of what went down."

"I'm afraid I won't, Director Fury," the A.I. answered after a moment, and Fury felt his anger spark again.

"What do you mean you won't?"

"I am not going to hand over the footage to SHIELD. Sir would not want you to see it."

"Fine," he growled. "Let's start clearing up here. We wouldn't want delicate Mister Stark to see." He got a round of glares.

Glass was swept and blood was cleaned and bodies cleared away. The room was straightened as a contractor, used to the Avengers and the damage to the tower, argued over the phone as quietly as possible, trying to replace the windows. The Avengers dutifully helped where needed, responding in mutters or glares when asked where Clint was. Even Thor seemed less jovial.

It was about an hour later when JARVIS spoke again, his voice rushed. "Avengers, sir is stirring." That was all they needed to drop (literally in some cases) whatever they were doing and rush out of the room, approaching Tony's door quietly and slipping into their respective chairs to make it seem like they hadn't moved at all. Bruce and Natasha even had the tact to grab books and make it seem like they had settled. Fury could be heard, faintly, through the door, ranting about goddamn superheros. Clint was stroking Tony's hair and shushing the shifting boy, looking up at them anxiously. 'Nightmares?' Steve mouthed, and Clint nodded, making a face.

'This whole time. This one is pretty bad.' And it probably said a lot about how close they were that even Thor and Bruce, who weren't used to reading lips, could understand. They all looked at their now-youngest, watching as the assassin stroked black curls and the sheets writhed.

It didn't take long before Tony jerked up in bed, jolting right out of Clint's grip, grasping at the covers and panting. He looked around, met them each in the eye, and seemed somewhat reassured by the thought they hadn't left - or, at least, he assumed they had left, and was reassured by the thought that they cared enough to rush back and make it seem like they hadn't.

In all honesty, the others didn't know what to expect. Perhaps some crying, or clinging, or maybe just for Tony to sink back into bed and fall asleep again, like a normal child would, or at least the child that he was displaying earlier would. Instead, he gripped the arc reactor like he was grounding himself and rasped out "JARVIS," in a strong voice, in a voice that sounded so much like his normal voice he had the others doing a double take.

"Yes, sir?"

"JARVIS, talk."

"Of course sir. You are in Stark Tower in New York City. It is the 18th of the month, nice and sunny out, with no clouds in sight-"

"Age," he interrupted suddenly, and all the Avengers could think to do was sit and watch in stunned and confused silence.

"Pardon sir?"

"Age. My age. Give me my age." And to anyone else hearing that voice it would not have sounded pleading, but to them it did.

"Forty-three, sir. Would you like me to show you footage-"

"No, JARVIS," Tony cut off with a small smirk. "I know what happened at my last birthday." Natasha smirked with him. It was quiet for a second. "Again," Tony muttered in a softer voice, bringing his knees up and burying his face in them. "My age, JARVIS."

"Of course, sir. You are forty-three years old. Would you like your birth date as well?" Tony shook his head, and the others could practically feel what was racing through his mind:

'I'm an adult. I'm not a kid. I don't have to be scared. I'm an adult. I'm in my forties. This is just temporary. I'm definitely an adult.'

Or maybe not, because a second later Tony chuckled, looking up at them and trying for a small smile that looked a bit too forced. "Haven't had that one in a while." It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he was talking about the nightmare.

"Mind telling us about it?" Bruce asked, cautiously interested, and Tony sighed, settling back against Clint, who looked both stunned and elated, considering their teammate seemed almost back to his normal temperament and wasn't normally a fan of skinship. Maybe it was a sign of trust, or maybe it was some childish longing for human contact, but they would never know.

"It was just about Howard." Steve never missed the fact that Howard Stark was never 'dad' to Tony, and prudently learned that, no matter what he thought of his old friend, he should shut up about him around Tony. Tony did the same around Steve, and they had reached an understanding to see him differently. "Because..." He stopped and sighed again, looking down, but not looking nervous, just sort of tired. "Because, well, that guy hit me. And I'm smaller now, and it all just reminded me of when I was a kid, and I hated being a kid. So, I had a nightmare."

They were surprised by the honesty he was giving them, even if he had just had a meltdown in front of them only an hour prior. "You're talkative today," Natasha remarked quietly, and Tony laughed a bit, smiling at her.

"No point in lying about something that you clearly saw, especially after my little show earlier." He shrugged, and glanced at them. "This is... it's hard. I know what I'm saying and doing perfectly fine, but it's like there's a child and an adult inside my head screaming at each other, and whoever screams the loudest wins control. It's... strange. I don't know how to explain it. Not exactly pleasant. So, maybe child me is more honest, and that's why I'm telling you this." His eyes sparkled, and they suspected that wasn't the case. They were all on the merry way to a solid, trusting team before this, but the whole thing seemed to have cemented for Tony that they would take care of his secrets and not take him for granted (probably because they hadn't made fun of him, as he had expected them to; there would be plenty of time for that later, though).

"So, a nightmare about your dad?" Natasha met his eye, trailing off softly, and he smiled wryly at her.

"Now that, I won't talk about. Not without a whole lot more Dayquil. Not yet." They heard the promise that soon, soon he could open up to them enough to tell them, but not yet. He sat up, pulling away from Clint with a sigh, and they saw as he began to close himself off again, no way for them to stop it. He rubbed at his chest, looking uncomfortable.

"Are you in pain, my friend?" Thor boomed, nearly startling Tony out of his skin after the quiet. He made a so-so gesture.

"I'm high on adrenaline right now from the nightmare. It'll probably come back full force soon." He winced. "I'm pretty sure I remember a dude punching me." His friends immediately tensed, and although he knew it wasn't directed at him he drew away instinctively from the flaming anger in their eyes.

"I remember that as well," Steve growled, and Bruce took a few calming breaths. Tony waved them off, his mask back in place.

"It's no big deal. I can handle being thrown around."

"We don't doubt that you can, little dude," Clint said, ruffling his hair and earning a glare. "Hell, how many buildings have you broken with your face? But that's with your suit... and normal sized. You need to be more careful."

"Blah blah blah, I always need to be more careful. I'm not going to let you guys take care of me just because I'm feeling a little emotional and I'm smaller now."

"Tony, kids can't do the same things you're used to doing," Bruce said gently, clearly restraining himself. Tony rolled his eyes.

"What, drinking? I haven't been, in case you haven't noticed. Saving the world? Well yeah, idiot, I need to make a suit my size first. Building things? Do you know how young I was when I made my first engine? Reaching the top cabinets? That's what chairs are for."

"No standing on chairs!" Steve scolded, and Tony rolled his eyes again, smirking slightly.

"You guys are too stressed out."

"Why aren't you more stressed out?" Natasha challenged.

"I'm always stressed out. If I let this get to me I wouldn't be able to function."