Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold *Avengers* Daredevil*

2) The partnership

If someone was watching, they probably thought they were high and hallucinating. The quinjet basically landed on water, opening precisely for you to just leave the pier and enter the ramp lash entrance without faltering in your steps. You walked in, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen on your tail, the tension in his shoulders obvious.

"Hi, Elsa. Looking good as ever. DD, good to see you again," sounded Tony's voice, confirming your suspicion. Everyone was now here, probably. Wonderful.

"Mr. Stark," Daredevil acknowledged him with a nod.

You, on the other hand, ignored the greeting. If he was starting with Elsa, you were not about to speak to him unless necessary, even when he told you that you looked good – hell, it had been like an hour since he had seen you. Jerk.

"Wow, look at you, kiddo. Good job. Daredevil, we haven't met yet-" Clint stood up from his seat, hand extended.

"Meaning you haven't stalked me and tried to get me to join your team?"

Clint wasn't surprised or concerned about the distance the masked man kept, retreating his hand easily. "Yep. Name's Clint Barton."

The Devil just nodded again, not giving up his own name. Shocker.

"Daredevil. Welcome on board. Hey, our new recruitment expert." Tasha gave you a significant look saying 'brace yourself'. You picked up on it immediately.

"Hey, Natasha. Is Steve mad?" you asked innocently despite knowing the answer for sure.

"Yes," sounded from behind you quietly as the man in question appeared, his footsteps heavy and angry.

"You are in so much trouble, missy!"

You made a face. "Steve, do not call me 'missy'. It's the on the top of the bad words list, seriously, who the fuck taught you that?" you teased him lightly, the humour leaving you when you found yourself under his strict gaze. Not just strict; worried. Hurt. "I'm not sorry for turning it off. You weren't exactly helping."

"I appreciated it," Daredevil supported you unexpectedly and you eyed him, supressing a smile, unable to resist the warmth of satisfaction in your chest.

"Yeah, well, the job is done. Congratulation. Now turn it on again, or so help me god, I'll cuff you with powers-restrictors and you're sitting this mission out," he grumbled, spinning on his heels, returning to the cockpit without another word.

You blinked in surprise at the harshness, heavy guilt settling in your stomach. Surely it wasn't such a big deal? No, there hadn't even been a real danger; Steve wouldn't be so pissed about something like this, not normally. Something was wrong. You left Daredevil's side, making your way after Steve.

"Leave him. He's just a grumpy old man," Tony hummed, drinking some energy drink through a straw. You ignored him. This wasn't grumpiness, this was anxiety. Steve was anxious about something and it wasn't you turning off your comms.

You entered the cockpit, hearing Clint trying to socialize with the Devil while Natasha interjected with the plan so the Devil would be brought up to speed.

"I don't want to talk to you right now, Anderson," he growled, pretending to be perfectly focused on piloting a plane that could just easily run on autopilot. The tendons in his forearms were so tightened he could cut something with them.

You gulped. Anderson. The spy name you were given by S.H.I.E.L.D. after your real persona had to die. No one on team called you that. Ever. Crap. This is bad.

You sat down next to him.

"That's too bad. Because-"

"I don't care about apologies."