SO SORRY ABOUT THAT MASSIV GLITCH EVERYONE, IDK WHAT IT WAS

160+ favourites, you crazy things, you. Almost finished this story, just my +1 left, I'm very sad it's ending. :(((( In the meantime, enjoy. And thanks again for all the support. Also, watch out for the wee Star Trek Reboot easter egg reference in this chapter.

STEVE

Time is a strange and relative thing for Steve Rogers. Well, it is for everyone, really, but especially him. He splits up the big bits of time in his life into Before and After. He needs the distinction or he knows he'll go insane. Before was his past, full of love and fear and purpose, then there was 70 years of nothing, and After is now. Where time seems to have sped up and everyone seems to rush around as if the world's going to end tomorrow. Thing is, he's kind of scared it will.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. TicktockticktocktickTOCK.

Steve really couldn't be any more proud of his team, of being the leader of his little team, of being accepted by his team. The Avengers have taught him a lot; how to try and live in the world he's in now, how to say 'Stark, I swear to God!' in Russian and 'you're my family' without saying anything at all. At some point, he finds the emptiness of a life without everyone he's ever known filled with the rich smells of Bruce's cooking, and laughter, and random pieces of machinery and something else, something intangible. He doesn't know when or how it happened. It's totally crept up on him.

He loves it.

He does his best to help his Avengers in return. When Bruce walks past with a frown on his face, and an equation in his eyes, Steve makes him lunch and speaks gently about nothing in particular to ease the doctor's stress. When Thor is bamboozled by a Midgard custom or object, Steve shares his confusion and together, they work through the crippling fear that they don't fit in this world. He doesn't like to think about it but says something that Steve struggles as much on Earth as an alien. When SHIELD is being difficult about allowing their 'loose cannon' be a part of the team, he marches down there with his own shield and tells it plainly, "If Clint isn't in the Avengers, neither am I". That always works. He's not sure he's completely worth the ultimatum. When Natasha comes back from a particularly bad mission, he offers a spar session with nothing but a look. And he doesn't hold back, because that's what she needs. There's blood, and sometimes broken bones, but by the end of it, she's always breathing harder yet easier; sweating but not crying (though she would eviscerate anyone who started a rumour that she was even able to outside of the job). With Tony, he's at a bit of a loss. His watch beeps every fews hours to remind him to check on Tony, make sure he's sleeping and eating, but sometimes he doesn't need a reminder; he's already there, sketching, watching a movie or watching the inventor 'create instead of destroy' according to the man himself.

There's something weird about Tony, though. Like when a video on the internet is half a second out of sync; you hardly notice it, but it's there, and you know something isn't right. The problem is, for all his tinkering and building, Steve isn't sure Tony knows how to fix himself. He might be out of touch, but he isn't stupid; he's seen the others eyeing Tony in their peripheral vision, waiting for something. He just doesn't know what it is. Which frustrates him. Which then causes arguments between himself and Tony. Inevitably.

It is universally agreed that Tony Stark is not easy to get on with. He's brash, and loud, and the epitome of the modern world. He speaks without thinking most of the time and thinks without speaking even more. And it's that, the fact the Steve just can't get past the wall that's been put up, that gets to him. He's the leader of the team; he needs to know things like this. Back Before, when one of his Commandos had a problem, they'd either come to him about it or be easy enough to read that he could fix it anyway. But Stark puts up a maze of bright lights and complicated technology - complicated smiles - that he can't find a way around. Sure, Steve isn't a whole lot better; when he comes in from a run on a snowy day, his eyes are just as stormy and he wants nothing more than to forget everything. But at least he works through it. Hell, even Howard shared his thoughts far more frequently than Tony, and they weren't anywhere near as close. It all comes to a head one day when Steve is fed up and being refused entry from the 'shop. He's standing outside the glass walls, hands on his hips, listening to the play-by-play and losing tolerance.

Tick. Tock.

"JARVIS, do NOT let him in."

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid I can't do that."

"This is NOT the time to go all HAL-9000 or Skynet or any other evil AI on me, I have had the worst day and my AI turning on me is-"

"Excuse me, sir, I meant that I literally can't do that. Captain Rogers has entered his override code."

"…oh. Well, don't think I don't know you did that on purpose. I'm still changing your code so that particle phrase is gone from your vocabulary system."

"Of course, sir." The indulgently amused tone of the bastard.

Steve walks in with purpose, unaided by the computer, yet still thanks JARVIS for his help. Traitor.

Tony purses his lips unhappily; yet another person who clearly prefers creation over creator. And they feeling is clearly mutual. Damn, what does it say about him that the very being he created, gave birth to even, with a base protocol to protect its creator, likes the super soldier better than him - and isn't that bringing back warm fuzzy memories of his childhood. It's so fucking lame that he can almost convince himself it doesn't hurt.

Steve, though, Steve doesn't think about this at all. He's just looking for an argument. Or a resolution to an argument so they can get on with doing what they do best. Out on the field, they couldn't be better; they synchronise flawlessly and get on incredibly well. Iron Man and Captain America have become steadfast, if unexpected, friends. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, on the other hand…

He isn't sure what to say so he says nothing. Just picks at his fingernails. It's a bad habit, one he shows when he's nervous. Natasha scoffs at him for such easy tells and makes him a cup of tea to soothe him. She's always been fire and ice in one fluid form.

Tony eventually gets frustrated and looks up from his plans, raising a trademark eyebrow.

"Look, Cap, is this Avengers business, or are you here to work me over. Again. Because I gotta tell you, I came down here with a cup of coffee and very little patience. I'm all out of coffee and am quickly running out of the patience part. What is it you want?"

There; that's the problem right there - Tony is so arrogant, so rude sometimes that Steve is at a loss. But not right now.

"Fine, Tony, we need to sort this out. You are my friend but I am fed up of having to keep my guard up around you, I do enough of that on the field. You gave us a home here at the tower but you still come across as some kind of stranger sometimes. I mean, is it me? I know you and your Dad didn't get on great but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not him, and believe me, I've noticed you're not him!"

Steve's voice steadily rose until it was now clearly shouting. But even the loudest sound couldn't match the deafening quiet of Tony's voice as he spoke.

"And what is that supposed to mean, Captain?"

They look at each other for an infinite moment (only 7.634 seconds, according to JARVIS when Steve goes back to watch the footage of the argument afterwards to see how he could have got it so, so wrong), fire battling ice more than Natasha could ever know.

Steve knows he's crossed a line, like a cut from a razor blade, so sharp and straight, you don't even notice until you're bleeding out on the ground. He has to backpedal, or move forward, or something, but he feels trapped in a cage with a wild animal. Entirely unpredictable and extremely dangerous when provoked. Finally, like the moment you hold your breath before a dramatic movie moment or jumping from a plane (without a parachute, yes, he knows, shut up), Steve breaks the silence.

"It means that I have had enough of this. Trust and communication are essential and they work both ways. It's not like we're just work colleagues. I rely on you to have my back in the field, and you do, don't get me wrong, but do you not get that living in this world is just another battlefield for me?!

"I mean, darn, Tony, I come down here and I try to understand, to listen when you talk about some fancy new piece of equipment you've made but I. Am. Lost. The others, Natasha and Clint and Bruce, heck, even Thor, they're trying to help me acclimatise to this godforsaken world that I do not know but you! You have no time for us. I'm at the bottom of the chain, right? You act as if I'm a nuisance. Is that it? You don't want me here? I bet you'd rather I never came out of the ice in the first place. Or maybe, you'd rather I mess up and GET MYSELF KILLED IN THE NEXT BATTLE, WOULD THAT BE BETTER?"

It's a brutal and killing blow. Jugular ripped out, Dead On Arrival, flatline killing blow. Tony recoils so sharply it's like he's been shot, so much so that Steve spins and looks for an assailant. He doesn't find one. He can't fully comprehend that he's the one that pulled the trigger. He doesn't even understand what he's done.

But clearly it's something distressing. All of the colour drains from Tony's face, leaving him pale and shivering and ruined. He staggers backwards and falls into his stool with unsteady legs and just stops.

It's like a clock in a room. At first the new sound is at the forefront of your attention; and it quickly becomes annoying. Then, you get so used to the ticking that you don't hear it at all, it's a constant part of your life. But when the battery runs out and the ticking is gone, it's a disconcerting and horrible jolt of feeling wrong.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick-

"Tony? What's wrong? Tony? Stark, answer me!"

He's shaking his shoulders franticly, enough to leave light bruises but that would be fine so long as Tony answered him. But he isn't. He can't.

Steve finds what the others keep looking for in Tony's face. Why did he have to keep pushing? He looks so wrecked, and his eyes are carrying a thousand lives' worth of misery and pain and exhaustion. The mask has been ripped off, taking a part of Tony with it, and Steve can't believe he never saw there was one to begin with.

"JARVIS, please, what's happening, get one of the others, I need to-"

"The others have already dealt with this particular side of Sir. The only thing you need is to do right now is the same. Be patient, Captain Rogers. But let it be known; as much as he jokes of my similarities to my cinematic AI cousins, I have the capabilities to neutralise any threats I see to the health and wellbeing of my creator and I will enforce those capabilities if the need arises. Do not test me. You will lose."

A nervous swallow enters his throat and an "understood" leaves it.

He takes the time between whatever this is to ruminate on the words that passed between them. He knows he is right about one thing. Tony really isn't like Howard. Had it been the elder in a fight with Steve, it would've escalated until both were bloody and furious. And Howard would've been cruel.

He pulls up a stool opposite Tony and studies his face. For the first time, he looks at the differences between the two Starks he's known instead of the similarities. He really looks at him. Tony has a few wrinkles, but they're warm, laugh lines and concentration lines and lines that tell a story no one knows. There's small scars and burns that show not that he fell, but that he got back up again with a vengeance. He is Tony. The Stark has nothing to do with it.

He's seriously considering a doctor now. JARVIS told him to wait so he'll wait but it's been an hour and Tony hasn't changed, hasn't blinked. Steve puts a hand on his chest to reassure them both that one thing he has done is breathe.

It goes on, and even JARVIS is making concerned noises. Steve starts pacing again, as if that will fix everything.

"5 more minutes, JARVIS. I know what you said but this? This is beyond…whatever it is, something is wrong. 5 more minutes and I'm phoning Pepper, I can't just-"

"Don't. You. Dare."

It doesn't come from the speakers like he expects but from the man on the stool. Steve rushes over and sits back down slowly.

"Ok. Ok, Tony I won't phone her, but you were unresponsive for around-"

"No. Don't you dare."

"What, Tony, I don't understand. Look, let me get Bruce to check you over."

Tony holds him still with a vacant look.

"Don't you for one second think that there is anything I would put above you or the others. That chain you were talking about? There is no bottom. You are the only links in the fucking chain. You are all that matters. If you ever believe that anything resulting in any of your deaths would be the better outcome, I'll be on your back in the afterlife straight after because I am nothing without this, without what I have with the Avengers. I'm barely holding on as it is. I suck at this team thing, I know. Hell, I'll leave before I make you leave. But I'm making an effort too. Just…just don't talk about yourself like that, even in an argument, ok? Please, I know I don't deserve a favour right now but please just…don't. I'm not like my father, I know, but we did agree on one thing. Giving up on you is not an option."

Steve's whole equilibrium is turned upside down. When what you think you know is entirely different, that tends to be the outcome.

"Look…I'm gonna go to bed. Get a scotch or ten, then go to bed. Uh, you're the last, I guess. The others, they've all…seen that. Sorry about that, by the way. I keep hoping it'll go away, but so far, nada, haha…so, um, can we just move on or something? Truce?"

Steve has never seen this nervous, hesitant side before, but at least he's not lost for words.

"More than a truce, Tony. Thank you…for letting me see you. For trusting me."

Tony rubs the back of his neck and looks down.

"Uh, yeah, no problem. Night, Steve…"

This is the first time he's ever called Steve by his first name. Up until now, he'd thought it'd been out of dislike, or disrespect at least. But it was always trust.

"Night, Tony."

Tony leaves and Steve goes to follow to his own bed when JARVIS stops him.

"If you have a minute, Captain?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Blue holograms surround him, files and files of Avengers details. Not about missions, but about the Avengers specifically. There is thousands of names of private operatives ready to pull Natasha or Clint out of a mission if their life is truly in danger and they can't get out themselves. He recognises some of them, and knows SHIELD has no idea. Tony has been researching magic, talking to the experts, contacting a recluse he's never head of called Dr. Strange to make sure that Thor is protected while here on Earth. There are protocols in place for Bruce and the Other Guy to keep civilians safe, and contingency plans for if (when) he decides to run away to some corner of the world again. Bruce may not know it, but he will be looked after. There's something for Steve there, but JARVIS won't let him see it, because "Sir is still working on it." That's ok.

But he's not. He feels lousier than he ever has before. He tries to look after his team, his family, but all this time they've been looking after him. Some leader. He goes to bed, but sleep never comes. He never expected it to anyway.

It's later, or early, he supposes, when Steve hears a beep indicating a message on a tablet Tony gave him, and finds it's from the man himself. It's the file he couldn't access before. 'So you don't feel so lost anymore. Here's a map. If you need help, you can ask. T.' with a huge attachment filled with history and current affairs. The file is told from a person's perspective, though, not just cold, hard, terrifying facts that leave Steve sweating at night. Everyone gives Steve what they think he needs, but they never take the time to ask him what he actually wants. Somehow, Tony doesn't need to. He just knows.

He's a man out of time; it makes sense for him to be a bit off-course. Steve kind of wants to make a map for Tony. Steve can say all he likes about being a man out of time; he's just worried he's running out of it. He's terrified Tony won't find his way in enough time to save himself.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick-