Disclaimer: I don't own anything except a few bare minimal things and the stash of food I'm hoarding for the next depression. (It will happen, and no one will be laughing at me for my food stash then.)

A/N: We're going into uncharted territories now. I had it all planned out until last chapter but now I'm going in blind. I'll try to continue this story, but we'll have to see if I can pull it off.

Chapter 13

Natasha wanted to believe her teammates. She really did. Everyone with eyes could see that she was friends with Steve, though she had tried to keep the relationship professional. And no matter how much she complained about Tony she could tell that everyone saw right through her.

So she wanted to believe them. But what they were saying was impossible.

So she hacked into S.H.I. . and found a photo of the Howling Commandos, carefully searching through the faces. When she found the face she was looking for she rocked back in her chair, surprised. She didn't think she would actually find it, but that was definitely Tony grinning back at her. A younger and more carefree Tony, certainly, but Tony nonetheless.

She searched through the names, unsurprised to find Anthony Stark. She supposed, if she was honest with herself, which was not something she made a habit of doing, because she was a good spy, and the key to being a good spy was being able to trick the hardest enemy- yourself, that she knew all along that their story was true.

It all came down to trust.

For her to believe them, without facts, without cold hard evidence, it would mean that she trusted them. Trusting someone was a foreign concept to Natasha and if she trusted them, if, then it would mean that they were chinks in her armor, a soft spot for people to aim for. And Natasha could not allow for soft spots. But the fact that she had believed them, deep down, before she even saw the pictures, made her stomach churn.

She trusted them.

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Tony curled against the hulking warmth that was in his bed, afraid to wake up and realize that once again Steve hated him, that he could not kiss Steve. His clenched his eyes shut and burrowed closer, determined not to wake up today.

Wait? Why was he sleeping? Had somebody slipped him drugs? He did not sleep without Steve. It was impossible. He had tried, but it was as he was medically incapable of doing such.

The warmth he was curled against shifted and a bulky arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer. Tony's eyes shot open and he blinked in confusion when it was Steve's blue eyes that smiled back at him.

Huh. Maybe that hadn't been a dream. But then, that meant that Steve remembered him. That he had Steve back.

Suddenly giddy, Tony pushed himself up and joined his lips with Steve's, kissing with fervor. Steve laughed into his mouth, warm hands settling solidly against his hips and Tony resisted the urge to smile wildly, if only because his lips were otherwise distracted. Steve rolled them over easily and Tony suppressed a shiver. Steve had super strength now. He hadn't really had that much time to get used to it before, but Tony decided he liked it. A lot.

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Clint took a bite of his cereal, chewing contentedly as he flicked a fallen piece at Natasha's hair. She shot him an irritated look and continued to chew her English muffin.

Suddenly Steve and Tony wandered into the room and Clint looked up to glare at them.

"I had to make my own breakfast this morning," He accused, irritated.

"You'll survive." Steve said idly, pouring a glass of coffee and handing it to Tony. Clint turned to glare at the shorter man, as he was probably the reason why Clint had to make his own breakfast. Tony, the jerk, just grinned mischievously and pulled down the collar of the too big shirt he was wearing, flashing a wicked hickey at Clint.

Clint suppressed a gag and looked away. Logically he knew that this was going to happen, but God, did Tony have to flaunt it at the breakfast table. Seriously? Some people were trying to eat, thank you very much. He looked sullenly down at his cereal, mixing it.

"Bucky and I were talking," Bruce started as Steve pulled out the pan, probably to cook Tony breakfast, lucky man.

"Careful, or he'll drop your IQ," Tony warned, smirking at Bucky. Bucky chucked an apple at his head and he ducked out of the way just in time.

"Anyway," Bruce continued as if he hadn't been interrupted as Steve reached out and grabbed the flying apple, setting it on the counter. "We were talking and we thought that it was weird that you were the only thing that Steve forgot. Steve, do you remember the trip to the beach were Bucky almost drowned?"

"Yeah, and Tony saved him," Steve recalled easily.

"Did you remember it before now?" Bruce asked. Steve's brow furrowed as he cracked an egg over the pan.

"I remembered it, but it was as if Tony was simply erased from the memory." Steve finally said. "I remember Bucky almost drowning, but the fact that Tony saved him was just wiped."

"Like we thought," Bruce nodded. "It's as if someone took Tony out a rewrote all of your memories."

"You suspect magic?" Natasha asked. Clint stiffened. Magic made his skin crawl. Bruce nodded and Clint swallowed with difficulty.

"Have I mentioned that I hate magic?" Tony asked.