A/N: Same format as before with the - "speaking," 'signing', thinking - codification. Also, this one kind of got typed out fast, so I'm sorry if I missed any typos and such - 3.75 hours of sleep is just not enough anymore for me to function well and this is what you get for it. Trying to keep everyone in character as much as possible, so apologies if I have failed.

Next update Monday - strange how I do more adulting on weekends than week days...

Disclaimer: Not mine.

"Tony, no! You're not going. It's dangerous and reckless."

'Reckless? This is reckless? Going to a party with a bunch of superheroes is reckless? Wow. Okay. I think we need to review what the word "reckless" actually means.'

"We still don't know enough about this drug to know what's going to happen after an extended period of time or usage."

'I'm pretty sure the definition is to do something without regard of consequences. Granted, that does sound like me on a daily basis, but I think this time we can say that the reckless level here is marginal at best.'

"What if you and Bruce hurried too much and did the math wrong and then we're at this party that supposed to bolster morale and confidence and shine a good light on SI and here you are having a seizure or worse?"

'It's been two days and I've had like three doses. That's nowhere near long enough to be termed an "extended period of time" or "an extended use." Plus, Brucie-bear will be there. I mean, what's the point in having a resident doctor if we don't utilize him?'

"I'm not that kind of doctor, Tony." He was ignored by both parties.

"Um, no. It is reckless if every time you get injected with the compound, you pass out from pain."

'That happened once. And excuse me? When have I ever done the math wrong? Well, there was that one time, but I'm pretty sure I was too drunk to even remember my own name so I missed like one decimal. It ended up being fine. Paid a little extra. No big deal.'

"No big deal? We had to pay NASA over 15 million dollars for that mistake!"

'I think we're getting off topic here. It's one night. Everything's going to be fine. We're going to schmooze, the team will rub elbows with the bigwigs, people will know I'm alive and well, stocks will go up. It's all good.'

"No, it's not all good. Tony..." Pepper followed Tony as he made his way to the kitchen, their fast-paced conversation leaving the remaining people in the living room a little bewildered.

"How do they do that?" Clint scratched his head in wonderment.

"Practice, I guess," Bruce supplied, leaning forward to cup his face in his hands. "I once witnessed Tony, Pepper, and Colonel Rhodes all do it. Three different conversations going on simultaneously - all three talking at the same time, yet all three knew exactly what everyone else was saying. It was exhausting just listening." He had a headache building as the couple's discussion progressed, his fingers gently messaging his temples to stave it off. He was sure it would only get worse as the night went on.

"I think I'm more impressed with JARVIS for relaying Stark's dialogue so authentically." Natasha said, sauntering into the room and snagging the chip that Clint was about to bite into. Clint glared at the redhead, grabbing another from the bowl in his lap, chomping down hard on the baked snack.

"Thank you, Agent Romanoff."

"Yeah, and Tony has a sign for 'Brucie-bear?' Classic." Bruce rolled his eyes at Clint. Some days, there were way too many jesters in the Tower.

Natasha smiled her recognition towards the AI, ignoring Clint once again, and sat down next to a sullen Steve. "Why so glum, chum?" She threw a friendly elbow at the Super Soldier, gently knocking his arm, causing him to list a little to the side.

"I agree with Pepper; I don't think Tony should be going to this gala." Natasha 'mmm'd' at his statement, neither agreeing nor dissenting, sitting back in the couch.

"Steve, I don't think any of us want Tony to go or think it's a good idea. But this is Tony we're talking about; if he wants to do something, he's going to do it. The more we push, the more he's going to defy."

"Bruce, didn't you have to sew up his back once already? He's only been home for - what, four days? - and he's already pulled stitches. He's not healed yet!"

"Steve, I get it, I really do, but this isn't my decision to make. I'm just trying to make it as bearable as possible for him because he's going whether or not we like it." Steve looked away in frustration. "We all just need to keep an eye on him tonight. Support him. Guard him. But we can't smother him." Steve glanced back and nodded his understanding.

"Yeah, and just be glad Pepper stepped in and switched us from being date-bait and party favors to faux fancy folk." Natasha rolled her eyes at Clint's attempt to lighten the mood, no matter how grateful each were for the subject change. "Still can't believe we have to go," he pouted.

Tonight was the big Stark Gala and all the Avengers were required to go. That had been part of Tony's original plan - have the guests bid on a night with one of the Avengers to raise money for this year's Stark Gala funds recipient. Pepper modified it to allowing all attendants the opportunity to mingle with the Avengers that night, increasing the entrance fee a bit but still allowing a huge sum of money to be raised for the charity. Tony had pouted at the change, but the rest of the superheroes had sighed in relief.

Pepper came back in the room, looking to Bruce as she did. "He's waiting in the kitchen for you. We'll leave once he regains consciousness." She snarked, eyes rolling in disgust.

Bruce stood up, calculating the different times in his head. "That should give the compound enough time to start working." He left, grabbing the syringe of 'Tony's voice' - as the billionaire had coined it - on his way out.

The clapping subsided. Tony was getting off the stage, smiling and acting his usual, boisterous, cocky self. His speech was pretty good, Steve had to admit, but he was very impressed with how normal the man sounded and acted. He didn't know Tony did it. Even with the serum, Steve felt like he was still recovering from his own withdrawal experience.

"Feeling old?"

"What?" Of course Natasha had to sneak up on him and scare the ba-jeebers out of him!

"Come on, Rogers. I can see it on your face." Quizzical eyes stared back, head cocked slightly to the side. "You're wondering how Stark can act so normal and look fine when you're over here still feeling the effects of withdrawal."

"How do you do that?" Was the woman actually able to read minds now, too!?

"It's a gift."

"Like your gift of scaring the crap out of people, popping out of nowhere?"

"I wasn't sneaking - you should have heard me. Though, they do say your hearing is the first to go..." She laughed as his deadpanned, unimpressed expression.

"Funny."

Hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow, she steered him from the outskirts of the room towards the mass in the middle. "Come on, soldier. Let's mingle."

The man at the end of the great hall looked on. He was good at observing, seeing what others failed to notice. Most people, when asked, would say they saw the great Tony Stark commanding the room and the people in it with his charisma alone. But he was different.

He noticed that the billionaire had yet to touch a drop of alcohol tonight. Very strange, for a purported alcoholic.

He saw the way the man's breath would hitch ever so slightly and the minuscule tightening of his eyes when he turned too quickly.

The way his girlfriend and the other Avengers always approached from his right, never the left - how he seemed startled when someone did.

The forced relaxed stance as he strolled about the room.

No, Tony Stark was not what he appeared. Something had happened. Something more than an explosion. And now their eyes were locked onto each other. A smile grew on the man's face as recognition spread across Tony's.