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Tony. The answer was you had to worry about Tony. Not because he was your boss, but because he was having a panic attack when you walked into his lab. Nobody else was around and he was telling JARVIS not to call anyone, but when you saw him crouching on the floor, practically ripping at the collar of his shirt you almost wanted to make the call yourself. On the screen hanging above his work station was a news report on the incident, and above NYC you could see the hole that nearly swallowed earth. And in the hole, was the little image of Iron Man falling.
“Tony,” you said calmly, kneeling down to his level. “Look at me, hey, look at me.”
You didn’t let your voice raise, despite the panic you were feeling. You were careful not to touch him either, worried that might make things worse. Instead you told him, “You’re safe here--you’re safe, okay? You’re doing fine.”
His laboured breathing began to even out a bit. Chest heaving he looked you in the eye, his pupils mere pinpoints. Soon they began to grow, and he took deeper breaths.
“There you go,” you said, using your best yoga-instruction-meditation voice. “Inhale for five seconds...exhale for five seconds.” You waved your hand in front of your chest as you got Tony to breathe with you. Without breaking eye contact you said, “JARVIS, turn that off.” From the corner of your vision you saw the screen flick off.
You took Tony through another ten seconds of breathing before he nodded. He rubbed his face with his hands, head clunking against the counter as he leaned back. When his hands lowered he said, “That was nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“That was a panic attack,” you told him, “and I hadn’t even asked you about it.”
“I don’t have panic attacks.”
“You just did. And the sweat on your forehead tells me differently.” You stood, wondering if you should offer your hand to him. But he got up on his own, leaning his weight on the counter beside him. You walked over to the bag of cake pops you’d tossed on the ground and found they were mostly okay. Pulling one out you held it to him and said, “Cake pop?”
He eyed it before taking it. You pulled another out for yourself and took a small bite. Stepping towards him you set the bag on the counter and reached a hand towards him. Pressing your hand on his shoulder as he had to you at the restaurant you gave him a slight squeeze before releasing.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said. He looked at you, and your clothes one more. “And you aren’t wearing anything new.”
You pointed over your shoulder where you had discarded your bags of clothes. “I got stuff.”
Tony leaned back to look behind you and squinted. “Is that Target? You went shopping at Target?”
You nodded. If he wanted to move on from his attack, then you weren’t going to force him to talk about it. You felt like you’d already overstepped your bounds by patting him on the shoulder. No, you would have to wait and see how things went, but you were able to put two and two together.
The incident had left a scar on him just as it had the world. Everyone had to deal with that in their own way, even you. Of course, you’d known that from the beginning, you just didn’t include Tony in that “everyone”. Or any of the Avengers actually. You’d been too busy thinking of yourself.
You side-eyed Tony as he wiped at the sweat on his temple. He held up the cake pop, a pink and white striped bulb on the end of a stick. You thought for a moment that he’d never had one before but you saw the shake in his hands; he wasn’t looking at the food, but at the way he couldn’t stop shivering.
“Hey,” you said, getting his attention. “Wanna see what I bought?”
There was a pause before he agreed, no snarky comment or over emphasizing eyebrow movements. Just a simple, “Show me what you got.”
At the very least, you didn’t have to return anything you’d bought. It was mildly approved, though Tony did comment how he gave you an unlimited credit card and you took it to Target. You were pretty sure anyone would say that though. You had worked with a few people that given the same card would have bought a car or five, a jet plane, literally anything. But you were happy with your clothes and new wallet.
And after seeing Tony at what was probably his most vulnerable, you didn’t take it personally when he sent you home. It must have been hard to know someone had seen you mid attack, and maybe even harder when you were Iron Man. He’d denied what happened so quickly, you didn’t want to cause him anymore anxiety and took your leave.
When you got into the elevator you were met by the redhead you’d seen training with Cap. Wearing a brown leather jacket and skinny jeans, she was intimidating. Not only beautiful, you knew she must be someone important, someone very skilled, to be training with Captain America.
“Hey,” she greeted. She stepped aside to let you in and you pressed the button from the ground floor. When she didn’t get out you eyed her and said, “Hello.”
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” she said as she faced you. Holding out her hand she added, “I’m Natasha.”
“Y/N,” you answered, habit kicking in as you shook her hand. It was firm but gentle, easy. You had a feeling everyone in the tower already knew what you were doing there but you told her, “I’m Tony’s...Mr. Stark’s new assistant.” Were you supposed to be addressing him like JARVIS did? Because you’d been saying his first name the entire time. He hadn’t corrected you yet…
“You must have really impressed him.” She nodded, as if approving of your job. “Tony’s last assistant ended up running his company.”
You shrugged, thinking of how you’d met him only two days ago. “Maybe,” you conceded. It still felt a little like pity.
Her eyes went to the bags in your hand. “You’ve been shopping?”
“Oh, yeah.” You lifted the bags and quickly lowered them. “Tony...Mr. Stark said I didn’t dress professionally enough.” You tried not to let your eyes dip down her outfit, not at all professional, but not as drab as what you wore. Then again, you thought she could probably wear anything and make it look fabulous.
The elevator stopped on the ground floor and you stepped out, followed by Natasha. You ignored the itch on the back of your neck at the fact that she had been in the elevator on the top floor, and then joined you in the lobby. You also ignored the fact that when you’d seen her battling Captain America that she had appeared to be winning.
Instead you gave her a quick, “Well, it was nice to meet you.” And then scurried off.
On your way out of the lobby you saw her reflection in the glass watching you carefully, and your pace quickened. Too quickly, however, and too distracted you were as you moved and bumped into what was probably the last person you wanted to see.
Steve Rogers.
He was wearing a brown bomber jacket, tucking a set of keys into his pocket as he left the tower. You muttered, “Sorry.”
“No, it was my fault,” he replied. He noticed you looking over your shoulder at Natasha and frowned. “Do you need a ride home?”
You were lost in thought as you turned back to him, looking at his blue eyes brought you back to the present. “Hmm? Oh, no, I was gonna walk. It’s only a few blocks.”
Steve gave an unreadable look to the redhead before placing a hand on your back and steering you down the street. He reached down and picked half the bags out of your hands and said, “I’ll walk with you.”
“No, that’s not--” you began when you thought of Tony in the lab. And the boy on the street selling videos of the incident, and even Rhodey and Bruce. You’d been quick to judge Steve, maybe you needed to give him another chance. You said, “Sure...thanks.”
“Not a problem,” he replied. “I’m glad I caught you, I wanted to apologize for whatever I--”
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you interrupted, “it was more my bad I think anyway. So I’m sorry.”
As you walked you chatted about what it was like working with Tony so far. You found that Captain America actually had a sense of humour, and you agreed on more than you thought you would; like the insane prices of clothes, and the exuberant spending some people did. You laughed over Tony’s reaction to you going to Target for new clothes, and then quickly steered the conversation to his choice in restaurants.
“I just don’t get it,” you explained, “he wears those old band shirts and eats at totally...normal places and then he’s all worried about me getting new stuff.” You shrugged. “I just couldn’t do it.”
“Tony’s a...complicated man. He takes some getting used to.”
You smiled up at him when you came to a stop. “This is me.”
Steve couldn’t hide the way his brow furrowed looking up at your building. You confirmed, “I’m not kidding.”
“I wasn’t...ah…” He let out a nervous laugh. “Do you want help carrying these up?”
“I feel like I would normally say yes, and then I offer you coffee or tea but I have neither of those things--or food. So I’m warning you now if you come up I can offer you water, maybe. If it’s not brown.”
Steve’s eyebrows pinched together again. “I’ll help you out.”
You led the way, showing Steve up the stairs and down the dingy hallway to your door. Opening it up, you flicked on the lights and took the bags from him, quickly tossing them into your room and returning. He was looking out the window, at the wonderful view of a brick wall, when he turned to you and asked, “So are you going to be looking for a new place then?”
“And lose all this?” you asked, opening your arms to the living room. “The leaky faucets that don’t usually give real water, the cold showers, the noisy neighbours...”
As if on cue your upstairs neighbours began to yell, and within five seconds they went from angry yelling to tears. You each looked at your ceiling before you stepped over to him and leaned against the wall. He matched your position. You admitted, “I guess I could move. I’ve lived here for so long though…” You looked around your empty place. “I don’t even know where I would move to. I’ve never looked at other apartments.”
Steve glanced over the few items you had in your possession. Just then you upstairs neighbours began their noisy lovemaking, and it seemed like today they were extra loud. The moans and grunting were making Steve shift against the wall so you suggested, “Wanna go somewhere else? Like anywhere?”
“Yes.”