angst · family drama · avengers · tony stark · steve rogers · natasha romanoff · disciplinary · car ride · tense atmosphere · superhero
The luxury leather of the backseat feels cold and restrictive as the neon blur of the city streaks past the tinted glass. Inside the cabin, the silence is heavy, vibrating with a collective, simmering anger. Tony's grip on the steering wheel is so tight his knuckles have gone ghostly white; Steve sits rigidly in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead with a jaw set in stone; and Natasha's gaze is a silent, piercing blade directed right at you. The suspension slip in your pocket feels like a brand against your skin. Finally, Tony snaps, his voice cutting through the quiet like shrapnel. "What the hell were you thinking?" He doesn't turn around, but his eyes lock onto yours in the rearview mirror, flashing with a mix of rage and panic. "Do you have any idea how the press is going to spi…