-Later that night-

It was happening again. He had been sat reading over a case file after dinner when he happened to check his social media only to find the majority of the office had embarked out for drinks after work without him. He'd already quashed the feeling of isolation and abandonment once today so another time wasn't about to happen. Steve was a strong person but even the strongest of men could only handle so much social exclusion. He snapped the file shut and placed his face into his hands, rubbing his skin vigorously.

"Right," He spoke to the empty apartment; his voice echoed throughout the dark rooms, "If they won't invite me then I'll just have to make fun for myself."

He rushed to his room and threw on his usual 'going out' outfit that actually rarely got used and prepared himself for a night in the town. It felt strange heading out on his own as Bucky had accompanied him the last few times but Barnes was on active duty again now so Steve was without a companion. He tried to ignore the seed of anxiety that was planted in his stomach at the idea of being alone in a club or bar as he didn't want to seem like the lonely weirdo out looking for friends.

His muscles were accentuated by the tight shirt he wore. Steve wasn't vain by any means but Bucky always told him to wear it when heading out and Steve trusted his best friend's opinion. The less said about his tight, tight jeans the better. He grabbed his trusty, faded leather jacket and keys before slipping out the door. Slamming, it felt like a solid certainty which he couldn't take back.

Steve was about to prove that he could have fun too, without them, even if the only person he was proving it to happened to be himself.

He jumped in a cab and was at West's in only a matter of minutes; not long enough for him to chicken out of attending a gay club alone anyways. He peered up at the bright, neon sign for a moment, the music could be heard from outside, before taking a breath and stepping inside. He pushed to the bar in order to find something that would halt the anxious feeling in his stomach.

He had only just received his drink when a figure appeared beside him. Usually he would wave off anyone approaching him when he had only just arrived but tonight he felt like letting loose and didn't want to do that alone. His new companion seemed happy to dance too. With each sip of his drink, he could feel the tight muscles that had been contracting across his shoulders gently releasing.

It was several sweaty hours (and several drinks) later, Steve was having the best time. He and his new friend were dancing, drinking and they'd made out a few times but Steve wouldn't be telling anyone about that tomorrow. The feeling of being relaxed and free was strumming through his body when suddenly, he felt someone tap on his shoulder. He span to see Detective Stark smirking up at him with his arms crossed. The taller man open and closed his mouth several times, goldfish-like.

Stark's cheeky smirk only increased, "Did your mom not raise you with manners?" He shouted to be heard over the music, "It's rude not to say hi when you bump into someone you know or were you a little occupied elsewhere?!" His eyes ghosted suggestively across to Steve's dance partner.

Steve dumbly repeated the same action with his mouth as his mind struggled to form any kind of coherent sentence. The dance partner shouted in his ear to check everything was okay. It was rather bizarre for Tony and Steve to be stood stock still in the middle of the dance floor essentially just staring at each other with everyone else dancing around them. The taller man just waved off his concern though. His mind was suddenly vacant of his strong-minded plan to show his colleagues that he wasn't such a prude and, in fact, was capable of having a good time. He could identify with the proverbial deer caught in headlights and Tony Stark was the driver of the 12 wheeled-truck barrelling full speed in his direction.

"Until recently everyone assumed you were a prude but I saw the way you were grinding with that guy." He said with a chuckle, "I'd like to say we had bets placed on this but nobody believed this could happen."

Steve realised it was meant as a light, joking comment but the idea of his colleagues all whispering about him being a prude behind his back felt like a slap to the face. If he had been more sober he would have controlled his expression but unfortunately the hurt and upset translated onto his face extremely clearly. Stark didn't get a chance to clarify his statement as Steve had grabbed the hand of his friend and rushed off through the crowds. Stark dropped his head into his hands as he realised that he had most definitely fucked up.


The conversation had risen, fallen and collapsed into nothingness repeatedly. It was only a couple of days since Tony had upset Steve in the club and hadn't yet managed to form an apology for the unintentional hurt he had caused. Rogers, while liking to think of himself as the bigger man, hadn't even attempted to engage in any of the conversation Stark desperately attempted. He was happy to boil in his own pile of misery while peering out the window of the car aimlessly.

They had instructions to storm the house at 10 o'clock so were doing recon while their back-up positioned themselves around the corner. Stark would swear that Detective Hill could sense the tension between him and Steve that morning which is why she recommended to the Captain that they co-pilot the raid. Unfortunately, her plan had failed as neither of them were prepared to be in a situation like this together.

"Look, I just want to say-" Tony began for what felt like the one hundredth time when the crackle of the radio interrupted him.

"Targets are inside the house. Move in!" The voice ordered. Somewhere in the back of his mind Stark realised it was Hill but his mind was already focused in on the raid.

The two men jumped out the car and darted towards the house at full speed. They could hear the van, carrying their back-up, close behind them. Charging the door, Steve led in first and shot into the first room on the right with Stark close behind him.

"NYPD! GET ON THE FLOOR!" Detective Rogers shouted, his gun raised aloft close to his chest.

A sudden shot rang out followed by a gasp of pain that Tony's brain immediately recognized. Another shot was fired. Stark's instincts wanted him to stop and check who was injured but knowing that someone willing to shoot was in the same room as them prevented him. Instead he barged forward, knocking the weapon from the shooter's hands and began forcing the criminals to lie on the floor with their hands over their head. The team helped him detain them efficiently.

It was only after the initial adrenaline rush was over that Stark looked around to gauge who was injured. His eyes instantly stuck to Steve's hunched over figure sat leaning against a wall. Nat was crouching beside him administering first aid and reminding him to breath. The darker haired man rushed over and gasped at the sight of blood trickling from Steve's side.

"Oh my god, Steve!" He dropped down so he was eye height with his friend, "Are you okay? Nat, will he be okay?"

"I'm fine, Stark. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Big deal?" He cried, "You just got shot!" His hands began to flutter over Steve's well-toned body helplessly knowing he couldn't do any more than Nat had already administered.

Steve slapped away his hand and bitterly spat, "Stark, I'm fine. Don't start acting like you care now." Shakily, with Natasha's hands supporting him, Rogers pushed himself up onto his feet whilst leaning heavily against the wall. Tony peered up at him from where he was still kneeling on the floor, unsure of how he could ever make this right.