minor language

You managed to get your soiled shirt off without making any more of a mess, but you were left standing in the lounge with nothing on top but your sports bra, which was needing a change as well. Steve continued to spew into the garbage can with the sounds of a moaning green beast filling the room, drowning out Tony's laughter at the scene before him.

"Hey, old man, how about you make yourself useful and grab some towels? Maybe a few washcloths and a shirt."

"Yeah," he groaned under his breath and pulled off his worn and faded Black Sabbath t-shirt, tossing it to you with a snap before he made his way to the kitchen, "definitely just great to see you back."

"What am I gonna do with you boys," you whispered, returning to Steve's side to again rub his back to calm him. "I said breathe slower. You're making it worse."

"I know how to puke, (Y/N)," he panted between retches.

"But you don't know how to avoid it? What the hell were you two thinking?" you ridiculed, turning to look at the Hulk, still curled into himself on the floor. "Is he gonna change back any time soon? He's only making the mess bigger."

"Where did you go?"

"Asgard."

"Why?"

"It's a long story that I'd rather tell when your head isn't buried in a garbage can." Tony returned with a handful of linens, tossing half to you so that he could attend to his friend at his feet. "So, Captain, tell me what you've learned today."

"That for a genius, Bruce Banner is a goddamn idiot."

"You could've said no, Steve."

"I didn't know where you were or when you'd be back, or if you were okay," he groaned as another wave of nausea struck. "I was nervous."

"I know, honey, I'm sorry. I tried to get back as fast as I could, I promise." A few silent minutes had passed, with Steve's heaving coming to a stop and Bruce now back to his own form, though still looking plenty green. Steve reluctantly took a towel from your hands and covered his face for a moment before standing to look at you.

"Be honest with me," he whispered, "did you get hurt?"

"Yes, but I'm okay now."

"Okay," he mumbled with a slight nod, taking your hand to retreat to your room. To anyone else it might have seen like Steve had accepted your answer and would move forward, but you knew that this conversation was far from over. If you were injured on a mission that he couldn't attend, then he would harbor guilt, and he would try to keep you from going on any more. If he hadn't been feeling so ill right now, the argument would have been a given.

He pushed the door to your room open with a quiet moan and flopped himself on the bed with a shudder at what he had done to himself, even when he fully knew better and had even warned Bruce that it was a bad idea. You weren't going to lecture him; he was a grown man, for the most part, and he felt bad enough to learn from that alone.

"I'm going to change into my own shirt and go talk to Tony," you whispered, leaning down for a quick kiss on his cheek. "Get some sleep, I'll be back in a bit."

"You're sure you're okay, (Y/N)?" came a small voice just as you reached the bathroom. It broke you that he was so worried while you were gone and that you had no way to get to him. He trusted you to keep safe, and you put yourself in harm's way for Thor. You thought that he would have done the same if it were him in your place, but that didn't matter. He put you before himself, and you began to feel nervous that this would drive a wedge between him and his Asgardian friend.

"I'm fine, Steve. Thor took good care of me, just like he promised you that he would."

~~~

"Alright, I've got a sick Captain in bed and a clean shirt. I think we can talk now," you huffed, sitting heavily on a stool at Tony's workstation in his robotics lab. Leaning forward, you rested your chin in your hand and let out a long yawn that pulled at the muscles in your chest, making you gasp out of it, sitting up straight with a bolt.

"And that was...?"

"Pulled muscle, calm down. I'm a little out of practice on missions, so it's to be expected," you warned with a point. "Let's not go there, Stark."

Tony smiled coyly and returned his focus to the new suit he was building, turning away to avoid the fire in your eyes, "go where? I wasn't going anywhere. You're making assumptions."

"Yeah, I was assuming that you would follow your historically proven pattern of behavior in these matters."

"You're okay though, right?" he mumbled under his breath.

"And there it is."

"What?"

"You guys have to stop treating me like I'm made of glass and could break at any moment," you snapped, slamming your fist against the table top loud enough for him to startle and turn back towards you. You were exhausted from everything that had just happened with Thor and coming home to find your fiancé unloading his stomach all over you, so it wasn't taking much to set you off. "I don't know who's worse, you or Steve."

"So hold on," Tony stood, dropping his tools on the table with a bang. His voice crescendoed as he spoke and began to fill the room around you, "you're mad at us for being worried? For wanting to protect you? For giving a shit about you being hurt?"

Tony's moods always affected you quickly; the more powerful they were, the faster they hit, and the more severe your reaction. You stood and pushed the chair away with your foot, scraping it on the floor until it tipped over in a loud crash against the tile floor. "No, of course not! I'm mad that neither of you trust me anymore! If this is how it's going to be every time we go on a mission or any time that I need so much as a band-aid afterward, then maybe this isn't where I belong anymore."

His posture immediately dropped and he took a step back in almost a cower, his voice becoming a whisper in sharp contrast to feeling it had just held. "What did you just say? You're...you're not serious, right?" When you didn't answer fast enough for his liking, he closed the gap between you and took your arms in his hands. "(Y/N), come on. You're not."

"I don't know, Tony," you said, shrugging his grip away, "now that I've said it out loud, it feels like it makes sense."

"You're getting married to Cap in two weeks."

"It doesn't change that. But maybe..." you sighed, closing your eyes so you didn't have to see the pain growing in his expression, "...maybe Nick or Maria have something better suited for me. Where I don't have to worry about babysitters and overprotective teammates."

Maybe it was fear, or maybe it was desperation, but Tony wasn't about to take this lying down. He wasn't about to let you run away and out of his life again, and he was ready to do anything necessary to stop that from happening. "Now you wait just a damn minute, young lady. Since when are you the type to run away, hmm? I thought you were stronger than that. You don't give up a fight like this, especially not with me. Since when are you such as coward that you're running?"

"Stop. I know what you're doing."

"Calling you out on your bullshit?"

"I don't want to fight with you, Tony." It was true, you really didn't want to; it was so easy to get into one with him though, and it was so tempting to try to win. You turned to walk away but he gripped your arm roughly, enough to make you wince under the pressure of his hand when his fingers dug into your skin without so much as an attempt to relax them.

"I'm not letting you run out on me again, do you understand? I won't. And there's no way in hell that you're going to be anywhere other than here with Steve. Not after everything that's happened."

"Who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"I'm your father, dammit!"

"No, Tony, you're not!" you spat back venomously, your resolve to avoid the fight immediately gone. "You're just the unlucky guy who got stuck with a kid they didn't even want, and had to deal with what a screw-up she was. It sounds like I'm headed back down that path, in your eyes, so just be happy that you don't have to play that role anymore. Stop clinging to it."

Yanking your arm away fiercely, he released you, though unwillingly; he was left standing silently and unmoving as he watched you leave. This was exactly the opposite of what he wanted this conversation to be. This was a complete disaster and he panicked when he realized that he had no idea of how to fix it. If you left him again, it would be for the last time.

~~~

You returned to your room as dusk began to fall over the city, the dim haze of sunset and streetlights giving Steve's face a softness that was rare in his strong and chiseled features. He was finally resting and looked comfortable after the nausea had abated; he looked peaceful. You wondered how much of that was because you were home with him, and it made you that much more uncertain of what to do.

Kicking off your shoes, you sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, closing your eyes to listen to the quiet breathing of the man next to you. He would be so upset if he knew the thoughts that were plaguing your mind right now, and if he knew that you were considering leaving the team.

Or would he be?

Maybe Steve would be relieved if you stopped, having you in a safer role away from the team and not under his watch. He wouldn't have the responsibility weighing on him if anything went wrong, and he could focus on the job that needed to be done. Maybe this was something that would be good for the both of you.

But you loved this job. You loved these people.

You took a long, deep breath and slid yourself under the blankets and beside Steve, hoping that being near him would give you the answer. "I need your help," you whispered almost inaudibly, though with his super soldier senses he heard you and woke.

"What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I didn't think you'd hear me."

"Well I did, so let's have it," he replied, rolling over to face you, lifting himself up on his elbow. "So, you guys argued?"

"How...how in the world would you possibly know that?"

"He's the only one who can make your face do that," he smirked and pointed at you, but then rolled back to grab his phone. "And he texted me right before you got here."

"Of course he did."

Steve held the phone out to you, but pulled it back when you didn't take it from him. "You wanna read it? I think maybe you should."

You took the phone in your hand skeptically, ready to see anything on the screen as nothing more than a ploy by Tony to keep you under this thumb. As you read the words scrolling beneath your fingertips, you could hear his voice in your head, reading them to you with an unmistakable pain that made it all feel acutely real. There was a despair in his tone, even in text, that was pleading for Steve to do something.

"You didn't reply," you whispered, your voice beginning to crack.

"What do I even say to that, (Y/N)? He's practically begging me to fix this."

"Tell him..." you paused, handing the phone back, "tell him that it's not for you to fix."

Part 30 (In process)