"You call this redecorating?" Tony asked incredulously as he continued to look around the room. He pushed his way past the overturned couch, gingerly stepping around pictures that were once on the wall, the smiling faces of your children beneath the shattered glass. Even in his mostly drunken state, he took deliberate care to not cause any further damage to a home that was now nothing more than a broken shell of the happiness that you had found there.

"What do I do?" Steve asked quietly. "I couldn't come back and tell her what I'd done here. I've destroyed everything, Tony. I couldn't stop. I went from room to room, hoping that the next one would hold something that would calm me down. I wanted to see something that would bring me back from the anger, but all it did was feed it and I just...I couldn't stop."

"I'm not gonna lie and say that I don't get it, Cap. I've been pretty pissed in my day, but this is on another level of fucked up."

"Right," he muttered, his eyes trained on each step that Tony was taking, not missing the wobble in his footing and how he would reach out to try to catch himself on furniture that wasn't even there. The slur in his words had cleared when his mind was shocked by what he was seeing, but there was enough there for Steve's concern to come to life. "Tony, how much have you been drinking?"

"I don't think that you're in a position to be judging me here, Steve."

"Hey, you're standing in the middle of my psyche, and I'm watching you stumble around yours. Neither of us have room to judge."

"Well, let's just say that your wife has taken it upon herself to lock me out of my own system, for 'my safety' or whatever," he snorted, waving dismissively. "Yeah, I've had a few. But it's not like I'm a kid getting his first taste of the stuff. I can handle it...oh, dammit..." he groaned, lifting up his foot at the sound of glass crunching beneath it, "I just stepped on her face. Do you think that was Freudian?"

~~~

Bucky stood ready, his stance steady and his eyes trained on you, waiting for your attack and trying to anticipate the moves that you would use to try to take him down. He watched with a cautious smile as you readied yourself, but it was quickly dashed when you burst forward and distracted him with a move that left his right side open and allowed you to strike with a hit that knocked the breath from him for a minute.

"Dirty play," he gasped, sucking in air, "I didn't know we were taking this so seriously."

"Well, I have a little pent up aggression. I asked you because I knew that you could handle it."

"Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not." Bucky pushed himself up straight to prepare for your next attempt, but you were faster, your senses and reflexes responding to the activity as if they had been starving and were finally being fed. You were faster than ever, your hits accurate and your strength fueled with adrenaline. He took hit after hit, landing only a few but they never threatened to stop you. He had pinned you to the mat only once, and in his premature celebration, it distracted him long enough for you to flip him onto his back with an echoing slap on the floor, and to get ahold of his metal arm before he could resort to using it.

"Give up?"

"What's gotten into you, (Y/N)? You're in beast mode today."

"I said, do you give up?"

"Yes, I give," he relented with a groan, turning over and pushing himself up to sit when you released him, staying on the mat as he watched you grab water for you both. "Man, I wish Steve were here to have seen that. I think you could've taken us both out if you really wanted to."

"Well, he's not," you answered snidely, tossing him a bottle, "so I guess that you'll just have to try harder next time."

"I was trying."

You sat yourself on the mat next to him, the two of you sitting in silence for a few minutes as you finished your drinks, glancing at each other here and there but not finding anything to say. Your mind was barraged with thoughts that you really did want to put out there for him to hear, but they were so mixed up and convoluted that you had no idea where to even begin. With Steve gone and growing issues with Grant's behavior without him there, coupled with Tony's self-destruction, you really needed the help, but you didn't know how to ask for it.

"I'm going to talk to Fury today," you finally began quietly, "I'm losing it being stuck in this building, and I know that the rest of the team is too. I think it's time to get back to work."

"(Y/N), don't you think that you should wait for Steve-"

"I've done nothing but wait for Steve, Buck. When he's ready, he'll come home, I believe that. But until then, I'm not going to put my life on hold just because he has." You took the final drink of your water and pitched the bottle across the room, hitting the garbage can with perfect aim. You looked to Bucky and considered what you were about to ask him, and wondered how he would respond, running the options through your mind until you finally just realized that the only way to know was to ask.

"Buck, when we go back out there, with Cap gone I'm gonna need a new partner. Would you be up for giving it a shot? But don't think that it's to protect me, because I don't need it."

Bucky choked on his swallow, laughing at the idea with an amused shake of his head, "sweetheart, if you're gonna fight out there like you did in here today, I think you'll be the one protecting me."

~~~

Thinking that it was best to get out of the trauma that they were sitting in the middle of, Steve practically carried Tony from his house and down the street to a small coffee shop a few blocks away in the hopes that it might sober the guy up a little. It didn't bother him when Tony cursed him out for breaking his new bottle of scotch so that he couldn't have any more, and it didn't bother him in the least when he used every name he could think of to try to stop him from dragging him down the sidewalk, but what did get to him was the anger that your dad kept spewing towards you.

"Who does she think she is to know what's best for me, huh? I'm her dad. Where's the respect?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tony asked quickly, his head snapping up from staring at the coffee on the table in front of him. "Do you agree with her? Oh, wait, of course you do. She has you wrapped around pretty much every finger, right? When (Y/N) says jump, we're all supposed to just ask how high? I mean, yeah, if anyone is gonna raise a spoiled brat who always gets their way, I'm the number one suspect."

"Okay, where is this coming from, Tony? I've never heard you talk about (Y/N) like this, ever. Are you really this pissed off because she's trying to look out for you? Because from what I can see, I agree, you are in no shape to do it yourself."

Tony shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again to give himself the chance to choose his words carefully. He was mad, yes; he may have been the angriest he had ever been in as long as he could remember, but the direction he was sending it may have been misguided. He mindlessly swirled his coffee cup in his hand, watching the liquid slosh around the rim and tempt fate of spilling over, much as his emotions were doing inside of him now. He was a mixed up mess and he had never felt so lost; it almost angered him just as much that Steve Rogers, of all people, was sitting across from him as perhaps the only one who could save him from himself. It angered him that he hadn't even considered that it could be you, and he didn't want it to be.

"Tony."

"I told them to stop."

Steve straightened uncomfortably, letting out a heavy sigh and turning away, looking out the window so that Tony wouldn't see the flash of pain in his expression from his words. It was a part of what he couldn't let go, but not for the reasons that Tony was likely thinking. "Yeah, you did. Because I couldn't do it myself."

"What?"

"I was her father, Tony. It should have been my call to make. I should never have put you in that position, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't move when my girls needed me to, and I failed them both. It's on me."

"It's on both of us."

"Maybe," Steve shook his head, "I don't know..." He reached down for his cup and brought it to his lips but paused, seeing his reflection in the stilled liquid as the light washed over it through the window next to him. He barely recognized the eyes that looked back at him as his own, and he wondered how you would see him if you were here with him now. "How's she doing?"

"I'm actually mad at her for how well she's doing," Tony chuckled darkly. "I'm certainly not helping the situation at all, and Grant's giving her a run for her money, but she's really taking charge."

"Wait, what's Grant doing?"

"He's developing a really colorful vocabulary, if you get me. Thinks that Bucky is trying to take over your job with (Y/N)." Tony could see the discomfort and inner turmoil building in Steve as he spoke, and maybe it was the onset of sobriety finally kicking in, but he thought for the first time since he had arrived that maybe Steve was considering going home. "We need you, Cap. They need you."

"Right back at ya."

"Smooth."

"Hmm, yeah...that's...me," Steve's voice faded away, something catching his attention just outside of the shop. His eyes widened and his jaw set so firmly that Tony swore that he heard the grind of his teeth from across the table. Steve bolted up from his seat, shaking the table violently from the shift and spilling both of their drinks over the surface without care. "Stay here."

"Like hell," Tony argued, hurrying to keep up with the Captain as he burst through the doors and onto the sidewalk. Steve broke into a run and crossed the street into a park on the opposite side, Tony nearly losing sight of him when he couldn't match the soldier's speed without a suit to help him. He reached the center of the park and stopped, turning to look in every direction to see where he had lost Steve; it only took seconds to know where he had gone when a small crowd began to form on the far side of the playground. When Tony finally reached his destination, what he saw had him frozen in shock.

"I'm going to kill you," Steve growled at the young man caught in his grip, the color blanching from his face as Steve squeezed his throat. "I can give you just enough air for last words if you have any. Not that I care about anything that you have to say."

"Steve, what are you doing?" Tony charged up behind him, reaching out to grab his hand but Steve pushed him away and knocked him onto the ground to keep him down.

"Do you know who this is, Tony?"

"No, but whoever it is, you don't want to do this. Steve, think about your family. Get your head straight."

"I am thinking about them," he strained, his fingers digging into the soft skin a little more, "because this is the son of a bitch who almost took her from me. He deserves this, and you can't stop me."

Tony pushed himself up with a wince of pain and squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath to try to get his own determination set; he wasn't sure if it would do any good, or if all it would do was get him killed too, but he rushed forward, slamming himself into Steve hard enough to knock him over and break his death grip on the terrified man. "Steve..." he panted, trying to roll farther away from his enraged friend who was now focusing it on him, "I can't let you do this. I want you to do it too, trust me, but it's not the right way to handle it."

As he watched Steve approach, towering over him and filled with white-hot anger, he took slight comfort in the sounds of sirens approaching and only hoped that they would arrive before it was too late.

~~~

Bucky waited in the gym with you as you finished your own workout, continuing to watch in awe at the renewal of your drive and skills after being away from the field for so long. He found himself eager to work together with you, and was feeling lucky to have been asked to do so. Steve would feel better about your decision to get back to work if he knew that Bucky would be at your side, and there was no question in his mind that he would say yes to you. He really wanted to contact his friend and tell him what was going on here, but he assured Steve that he would leave him alone until he reached out to him or the team on his own; it had been so long now, however, that he was beginning to worry if that would never happen. He was jolted from his thoughts when the gym doors opened and Sam entered, his expression grim and almost apologetic.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Hey, Sam," you greeted, but when you met his eyes, you felt your stomach tighten with worry. "Oh, god. What is it now?"

"Steve and Tony have been arrested and they need you at the police station in Brooklyn."

"Mom!"

You jumped when Brooklyn rushed in behind Sam, pushing past him to run up to you with a desperate look and her body filled with a shaking panic.

"Woah, honey, breathe," you answered as calmly as you could, "what is it?"

"Mom, we can't find Grant. We think he ran away."