The training room was not a place Tony usually went before he had started living at the Compound, but having Steve train him had been a way to get close to the blond without having to divulge any dirty little secrets. Scotch had loosened his lips, obviously, and quite against his will. “Nine AM,” the engineer muttered to confirm their training time, hand against the wall. He wasn’t going to push it more than he had or he’d get more than just bruises on his shoulders. It was going to be a masochistic nightmare at this point but there wasn’t a whole lot more to do than agree and leave.

Tony fully expected to find several murdered sand bags that morning, laying in a row on the thawing grass. He had on his usual training attire, loose pants and a fitted tank top, red sneakers and bags under his eyes from a pretty fucked up prior evening.

Tony didn’t like to live by regrets but there wasn’t exactly a lot else he could do today. Except maybe keep Steve from turning some of that extra anger on him. He’d deserve it, of course, but Tony didn’t really take too much pity on himself.