It was four-thirty in the afternoon on a grey Friday in New York City when Sasha's phone started vibrating on her desk, dragging her eyes away from the dim laptop screen in front of her for the first time in a handful of hours.

A cold cup of coffee was sat on a stained placemat and there was an empty plate that at around one o'clock that afternoon, had a microwaved meatball sub someone else in the office had brought for her on it.

The vase the flowers from Tony had been sat in was now empty little over two weeks later and a black reed diffuser claiming to smell like leather and sandalwood was in front of it, being the only form of decoration Sasha had in her office.

Swiping across the screen, Sasha cleared her throat and held the phone to her ear, continuing to read through a lengthy document on her laptop at the same time.

"Sasha Coulson."

"Did you even look at who was calling you?"

Sasha paused, letting out a breath as she leant back in her chair and took a break from working for a moment.

"No, I didn't. To what do I owe the pleasure, Tony?"

Tony chuckled quietly, "I found a box of stuff at the tower, belongs to Phil. I wondered if you wanted me to call by your place with it? Or I can just get rid of it, I don't know if you'll want half of this stuff. Totally your call."

Sasha pursed her lips, glancing out the window of her office and seeing the Stark Tower a few blocks away. The entire building was lit from top to bottom, undoubtedly being one of the more famous landmarks of the city.

"I can come by I'm done with work on my way home if that's good for you?"

"Sure, no problem. Give me a call when you're here and I'll make sure security don't have you thrown out."

Sasha rolled her eyes, "Thanks, Tony," she said, sarcasm laced into her words.

"Anytime. Catch you later."

By the time Sasha reached the point where she could finally close her laptop for the day without too much worry about her workload, the clock was showing seven forty-five in the evening.

It was still raining hard when she walked out of her office building and crossed the street, a black umbrella covered her from the elements as she walked the handful of blocks to the Stark Tower.

With an upcoming court case prying unforgivingly on her mind, Sasha was welcoming to something that would take her mind off work, even if it wasn't the happiest of tasks. It had taken her two months to sort out everything that was in Phil's apartment after he died, opting to give most of his belongings to charity but keeping some things for herself, a few of his shirts and Red Sox jerseys were hung up in her wardrobe, as well as his watch which was locked away in a jewellery box along with their parents' wedding rings.

She called Tony from the reception of his building, wiping the soles of her black Louboutin's on a carpet by the revolving door. He never answered and the call eventually went to voicemail at the same time one of the elevators dinged, Tony stepping out with a grin and the wave of an arm.

He was dressed in black track pants and a plain red t-shirt, oil staining his forearms and hands. They took the elevator together and Tony asked Sasha about work, making small talk until he led her down a corridor to a room with a sunken living space housing red leather couches and a fully stocked bar on the other side of the room, floor to ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan.

"Drink?" Tony asked, walking behind the bar and grabbing two short glasses while Sasha wandered over to the windows, placing a hand on the glass as she peered out.

"Sure," she replied, "Whatever you're having."

He placed down two glasses of Bourbon on a table beside the sofas, two cardboard boxes with Coulson scrawled across the top made Sasha's stomach drop when she saw them, instinctively grabbing her drink and taking a swig before sitting down next to Tony.

"You don't have to do this, if you don't want. I can keep them here until you're ready, or just, whatever you like."

He gave her a sad smile, noticing the way she instantly became withdrawn into herself at the sight of her brother's belongings.

Tony had been having a clear out earlier that day and although it was against his moral judgement, he spent an hour digging through the two boxes that belonged to his late coworker. Inside he found countless files of paperwork, along with old clothes and jewellery, photographs in frames of Sasha and their parents when they were younger.

"No, it's fine," Sasha shook her head, placing down her glass on a leather mat and dragging the first box towards her feet, "I want to."

With Tony's help, Sasha sorted through her brother's belongings without shedding a single tear. Although she prided herself on being a strong willed individual, it was Tony's gentle humour when he saw her linger over a photograph or a souvenir keyring that made Sasha able to swallow the lump in her throat and laugh about a memory rather than cry.

She'd done enough crying, she thought, and Sasha also knew that Phil wouldn't have wanted his sister to spend her time crying about something she couldn't change. Phil had always been the more sensitive out of the siblings, but he'd witnessed and consoled his sister breaking down on a rare occasion, knowing that it took a lot for her to succumb to her emotions fully.

Phil had always tried to get his sister to channel her emotions into something positive, whether it was dragging her by the wrist to O'Shea's when she walked out of her office looking so angry she could kill someone, or forcing her to join him at a karaoke bar across town after a guy had broken her heart, Phil had always managed to make her smile instead.

As she sifted through memory after memory of her brother, Sasha was grateful that she wasn't doing it alone, glad to have Tony beside her.

He refilled her glass twice more after they'd finished, finding themselves wound up in another conversation topic that they couldn't quite remember how they'd stumbled upon.

"I'm just saying I'd rather be an android than an alien, do you know how advanced they can get? I do. I've made one myself."

Sasha shook her head, "You're insane, why would you not want to be a wizard?"

Tony raised a brow, "Have you seen the outfits they wear? I wouldn't be caught dead dressed like that."

The two of them laughed after Sasha pointed out that Tony was prone to flying across New York City in a questionable metal suit, so perhaps a cape wouldn't be all that bad.

"A shield though, that would be cool."

"Well," Tony tilted his head with a smirk, "Your new boyfriend might let you borrow his. I saw you and Rogers talking at the party the other week, how's it going?"

The smile that had been on Sasha's face for the past couple of glasses of whiskey suddenly faded. Tony frowned as he watched her purse her lips, shrugging her shoulders once as she swirled around the liquid in her glass, watching the ice cubes hit the edges.

"We were texting but I haven't heard from him in like a week. Has he said anything to you? Not that he would have, I'm just wondering because I thought we were getting along good, you know? It's totally fine, I don't really have time for dating anyway."

Despite her convincing nonchalant approach, Tony could sense the wonder in her voice, knowing the fact that Steve hadn't responded to her in over a week was incessantly eating away at her.

"He's not in the country, he's in Europe, which is why he probably hasn't text you. The guy is medieval, Coulson, he's probably in France writing letters to you or some shit. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be in touch."

"Really?" She said, her eyes flashed with hope as she looked up at Tony, suddenly hesitating over her words after realising how eager she sounded, "I mean, oh, right. That makes sense, I guess."

Laughing to himself, Tony shook his head, "My God, he's charmed you, hasn't he? That star-spangled son of a bitch."

Sasha's jaw dropped and she playfully slapped Tony's arm, "Tony! What's so bad about him?"

"Nothing," he replied, "I just imagined you to be with someone a little more...mysterious."

"The guy has been alive like a thousand years, how much more mysterious can you get?" Sasha replied, raising an eyebrow at Tony who stared at her while sipping his drink.

"I escaped from captivity, that's more mysterious."

Rolling her eyes, Sasha grabbed the bottle of Bourbon from the table and topped up both their glasses. She wasn't sure why, but so far she'd been slightly tipsy every time she'd met Tony Stark, besides their first encounter. Sasha wasn't necessarily a big drinker, in fact, she usually found herself drenched in anxiety at the thought of an evening with alcohol. With Tony, however, there wasn't even so much as an inkling of anxiety-driven overthinking in her chest.

"Can you ever stand being second to someone else, Tony?" Sasha laughed quietly, leaning back with one leg crossed over the other, her hand against her cheek with her arm leaning on the top of the sofa.

Tony mirrored her action, shifting in his seat before narrowing his eyes at her with a subtle smirk, one he found difficult to contain as she looked at him with a black-lined sleek gaze.

"No," he said, "But neither can you. Isn't that right, Coulson?"