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1. POV Steve
Steve Rogers had been living at Stark Tower for a total of 6 days the first time someone almost caught him. They’d just finished the world’s worst practice and Steve had been the only one to stay and clean up. He didn’t know how he was ever going to make these people work as a team. He didn’t know that it mattered.
“Hey Cap, what took you so long?” Clint said amiably, and pulled on his shirt. He and Stark were the only two left in the locker room.
Making a point to check his hologram watch Tony added, “Yeah gramps, let’s get moving. Gyros will be here in 20 minutes.”
Steve shrugged. “Cleaning up the window.” Thor’s hammer had done a number on the supposedly god-proof Plexiglas. He knew Stark had robots to clean it up at night, but the shards had been sharp and Steve didn’t want anyone getting cut on accident.
“Need some help with the showers?” Tony grinned. “I know technology confuses you.” This was Stark’s favorite joke and Steve was already tired of it.
“I think I’ve got it,” Steve said drily. He began to strip at the farthest stall. Already dressed, Clint and Tony headed upstairs for dinner, leaving Steve alone.
He turned to the shower. There were actually a lot of knobs. And what did Tony need exfoliating soap for in the gym locker room? Sighing, Steve stepped under a jet and pushed a button at random. Ice cold water poured over him, and Steve was back in the plane.
Gasping, he stroked wildly toward the cockpit as the Valkyrie lurched beneath him. Water cascaded in through the damaged hull. The current shoved him back and the plane stabilized. Around him, the water was red.
“I’m alive,” he croaked, desperately hoping the radio was still transmitting. Why was he still alive? “Can anyone hear me?”
Only the ice responded, clawing its way up his arms, turning him into a piece of the desolate arctic. He felt his heart stop. Felt his blood freeze.
Steve came to, naked and curled over the drain, when Stark’s voice crackled over the intercom.
“Hey Capsicle, we’re waiting on you.”
Pulse still racing, Steve fought for control over his breathing.
“Hey Spanglerella, do I need to send geriatric care down or are you coming to dinner?”
Shaking, but aware of his surroundings now, Steve said to Jarvis, “Tell them to start without me.”
“They already have, sir,” said the AI.
Steve nodded to himself, groaned to life, and reached for a towel. Later, when he joined everyone in the common room, Bruce asked, “Everything okay?”
Steve gave a curt nod. “Just had a few things to finish up.”
“He was cleaning,” said Clint through a mouthful of gyro. “You really are the team mom.”
Everyone laughed. Steve numbly accepted a plate of food from Thor and sat down. It tasted like ice.
2.
A few weeks later Steve found himself taking the elevator to the common floor with Bruce, Tony, and Clint. It was an unusually smelly experience as they had been attacked by a legion of enhanced stink bugs earlier that week. Having been hit with the most venom, Steve couldn’t escape the smell if he tried.
“Jesus that’s rank,” said Clint. He plugged his nose.
“I don’t know,” said Tony, “The penthouse has smelled worse before.”
Steve raised both eyebrows. He knew Tony was just trying to get a rise out of him. Everyone in this century thought he had the sensibilities of an 1800's farm boy. Thankfully, the elevator dinged and they all hastily stepped out.
Steve didn’t usually spend much time with the team outside of work. He never caught their references and frankly they treated him like the boss. It clearly killed their fun having him around as a pseudo parent. Despite the fact Steve was barely 22. So Steve often left them alone, and they didn’t invite him. Once a week he did insist on team dinner. Tonight Natasha had promised something to “Drive the stink right out of your noses”.
The smell hit him as soon as he entered the kitchen. Steve froze in the middle of the linoleum, paprika and basil overtaking his senses. He dove for the trash can and promptly threw up.
“Whoa, okay then Cap,” he heard Tony say distantly.
Smoke. Smoke and charred bodies and this dish somehow still boiling on the stove of a burned out house.
“Man, you must be a terrible cook to make Cap throw up,” teased Clint.
“He hasn’t even tasted it yet!” Natasha protested.
Wiping his mouth, Steve straightened up. Embarrassment curled his broad shoulders and he kept his head low.
“I’m not feeling great,” he mumbled, “I think I’ll just go lie down.”
“Captain Rogers,” said Bruce, setting a hand on his arm, “This isn’t normal for you. We should probably keep you under observation for the time being.”
The smoke and the rising smell of burnt human hair choked him.
Steve managed out, “The serum will handle it,” before shoving past Bruce and making his way into the elevator. Only once the doors snapped shut did he allow himself to heave and heave, covering his nose, praying the stench of the stink bugs would overpower this memory. But no matter where he looked some part of him was still standing in the burned out kitchen of a Polish family who had offered him quarters, and who had died in the bombings.
~POV Natasha~
“I think someone should go check on him,” Natasha said again. The rest of the Avengers were seated for dinner on the common floor, chowing down on the cabbage rolls and perogies she’d made.
“Cap’s serum doesn’t let him get sick,” Tony argued. “He’s fine. It was probably just a side effect of the stink bugs.”
“He was hit with the most venom,” said Bruce. Natasha shot him a glower and Bruce held up his hands. “But I’ll keep an eye on him for the next few days just to make sure nothing gets worse.”
Everyone went back to eating. Tony was trying to teach Thor about the workings of automobiles, and Clint kept jumping in with extremely false information. Natasha allowed herself a small smile. She was glad to be an Avenger. It was a nice change of pace from the loneliness of SHIELD missions, and the food was considerably better. At first she’d suspected the initiative would end in a week. There was just no way these people could get along. But then Rogers and Tony had made tentative peace after the battle of New York, and they’d all crashed at the tower and things were going better than expected. There was just one puzzle piece she couldn’t work out: Who exactly was Steve Rogers?
He kept his face mostly unreadable, and rarely spent time with the rest of them. Natasha knew he must feel like an outsider in this century, and she was worried the team wasn’t working hard enough to integrate him. But Fury was surely keeping him in therapy and adjustment classes, and if Rogers didn’t want to open up to her that was his choice.
Still, she’d seen his face when he stepped into the kitchen earlier: pale and terrified, like a tarot card had flipped to death.
3. POV Thor
Lightning crackled around him as Thor landed on the roof of Avengers Tower. He was furious, having just returned from Asgard, where his father had forbidden him to visit Loki. The storm reacted to Thor’s mood and rain poured down. Wonderful, just what he needed, being soaking wet.
Ah, well. Thor was glad to be back. Despite his confusion at SHIELD’s way of functioning Thor enjoyed living with his teammates. Barton and Banner were quite jovial, and the Widow was a fighter he was eager to learn from.
Dripping wet, Thor entered the common floor to deposit the Asgardian mead he had smuggled from home. These mortal drinks were so silly - he did not even feel them! Though Thor quite enjoyed the small umbrellas they often came with. He had a collection of them in his tower apartment.
To Thor’s surprise the common floor was not empty.
He did not know much of the legend of Captain America, but it was plain to see that the title wore on Captain Rogers. His other teammates had told him some of the Captain’s history, but Thor had a difficult time reconciling the perfect soldier with the man before him. The Captain was bent over a sofa, his hands digging into the fabric. He was flushed and sweating.
“Captain!” Thor exclaimed, “This is a pleasant surprise. I did not expect to see you until the morrow.”
The Captain jumped to parade rest, perfect military posture. Curious, had he not noticed Thor earlier?
“Hi Thor,” said the Captain, “How was Asgard?”
“The visit went well, but I am frustrated with my father’s policies. Sometimes,” Thor admitted, dropping the case of mead on the counter, “I feel as though I no longer belong in his court.”
“Yeah,” said the Captain. “I know what you mean.”
There was much sorrow in the Captain’s voice and Thor looked over him once more. He had never seen the man any less than on high alert. He was always calm and focused and Thor admired him for that. But just now he looked very young and tired, and Thor was viciously reminded of his teammate’s mortality.
“Is something troubling you, Captain?”
“No, no,” said the Captain. He glanced at his disheveled clothes. “I just went for a run is all. Don’t need as much sleep as most humans.”
And Thor, who admittedly knew very little of humans, took him at his word.
“Well, I believe a good rest is in order for the both of us,” he said, “I wish you pleasant dreams.”
The Captain paled and reached for a strange necklace beneath his shirt in the shape of two rectangles. “You too, Thor.”
There was something about the Captain which made Thor wish to care for him, but Rogers was a warrior, and Thor knew the other Avengers would not allow anything bad to happen in his times of absence. Still, Thor vowed to make an effort to treat the Captain as a comrade more often. He knew from experience the solitude which came with leadership.
~POV Steve~
After his encounter with Thor (a close call, but Steve didn’t think he suspected) Steve went back to his floor. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again after the nightmares, but his body desperately needed to rest.
The Avengers wanted him to be Captain America - the hero from comic books who they’d grown up admiring. And Steve was trying. God help him he was trying to be that man for them. If they found out about any of this - the nightmares, the panic attacks, the sleeping on the floor because the bed was too soft and indefensible - he’d lose them. And maybe Steve Rogers wasn’t important to the Avengers, but the Avengers were all he had left. He couldn’t let them see through the cracks. Any hint of ShellShock and they’d cut him from the team, send him back to the shrinks at SHIELD, or worse.
Only Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.
4.
The next time happened in the middle of a mission. Some idiot calling himself The Tremor had detonated several earthquake machines through the city and while Stark and Natasha worked to dismantle them Steve was trying to get everyone to safety. Another building around them began to shake and Steve yelled just in time for Clint to dive out of the way.
“Good timing,” said Clint, adjusting his bow.
“Was there anyone in there?” Steve asked.
Clint shook his head. “This whole block was cleared as soon as SHIELD called us in.” They shifted through the rubble together to the location of the final earthquake machine. With a curse from Tony, and Natasha’s audible sigh, the rumbling around them stopped and everyone took a moment to bask in the silence.
“Everything okay?” Steve asked the pair as Thor joined them with the Tremor in tow. Bruce had decided to sit this one out, and considering the destruction around them it had probably been a good idea.
“Yeah,” Tony wiped soot from his brow. “This loser installed an encrypted backup detonator linked to a bomb. Took me a minute to realize what it was, it was so goddamn rudimentary.”
“Good work,” said Steve to the group. He helped Tony to his feet, who immediately picked up the disarmed machine. “You’re really going to carry that?”
“Hey,” said Stark, “It’s for science.” The Iron Man helmet locked back into place.
Thor hauled the unconscious Tremor over his shoulder and they began the slow but painful walk back to the Tower. It became immediately clear that Natasha had twisted her ankle running from one detonator to the next and she leaned on Clint when the debris was tough to navigate. They were only a few blocks from the Tower, and the tents set up for civilian aid, when Steve heard it.
A child was crying nearby.
“SHIELD said all civilians were evacuated from this area over an hour ago,” said Steve, turning to the others in confusion.
“It’s coming from over here,” said Thor, leaning into the ruins of a hot dog stand. Sure enough, a small girl with curly brown hair and soft brown eyes was curled beneath the cart. “Hello little one,” Thor said, offering her his hand. “Come out so we can help you.”
Slowly, the girl eased out of the wreckage, but her cries had grown soft and her breathing was shallow. Thor hefted her from the ground, but it was clearly awkward with the Tremor sprawled over his back.
“Here, Captain,” Thor deposited the child into Steve’s unsuspecting arms. Steve made a panicked noise of protest but it was too late. He looked down at her, barely more than 8, barely breathing.
Not again. No, please, not again. She looked just like the German girl had.
It was suddenly hard to breathe. “Please someone else take her. I can’t.”
The rest of the Avengers turned to look at him like he’d gone mad.
“What do you mean you can’t?” Stark said incredulously. “Run her to the medical tent.”
“No I - No.” Steve held out the girl. If he looked at her face again he was going to throw up. God help him Steve didn’t know how he could walk away from this if another child died in his arms.
“She needs medical attention now!” Natasha snapped. But Steve was completely frozen, absolutely terrified.
“For God’s sake,” Clint muttered under his breath. He released his support on Natasha, grabbed the girl from Steve’s arms and took off running in the direction of the Tower. For a long moment after the rest of the Avengers just stared at Steve in disbelief. He was still frozen, staring at his hands.
“What the hell was that?” asked Stark, and shame began to seep through the ice.
“I don’t - I don’t do kids,” Steve forced out. He deserved their anger but right now he really just wanted to go to sleep and not worry about waking up.
“You mean to tell me that Mr. Patriotic, Mr. American Dream doesn’t want the wife and kids and picket fence routine?”
Steve pushed past him to replace Clint as Natasha’s crutch. She avoided meeting his eyes. “No,” he said flatly. “No kids.”
They walked in near silence back to the Tower. From the back of the group he heard Tony mumble to Thor, “I knew Spangles wasn’t a people person, but not liking kids? That’s just cold.”
5.
Bang. Bang.
“Answer the door Cap, JARVIS said you were in here.”
Steve rolled over in bed. His mind was groggy and he squinted at the clock. 4:02 pm. Thursday. It was Thursday. Steve had no idea how long he’d been sleeping but the dullness in his limbs told him a while. More than a day possibly. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to do anything, but if Clint barged in and saw him, unwashed and asleep at 4 in the afternoon the jig would be up.
Sometimes Steve wished one of them would notice. He’d be court martial-ed and kicked out of the Avengers, but at least he wouldn’t have to pretend anymore.
Forcing his feet out of bed, Steve sluggishly moved to the door. He tried to pat down his hair, noting that his clothes were rumpled but at least not pajamas. He could do this.
“Hi Clint,” he said, and opened the door.
Barton wore unusually nice clothes and for a heartbeat Steve worried he’d forgotten some press conference or important meeting.
“Look, I know we don’t hang out much,” Barton scratched at the back of his head, “But Tony thought it’d be nice if we all went out together for a night off. Nothing crazy, he swears. Just some music, maybe dancing. There’s supposed to be fireworks at Central Park tonight.”
Steve barely had the energy to keep standing, to make his mouth move. He wanted to be closer to his team, wanted to make the distance smaller, but he just . . .couldn’t. Not right now.
“Hey, Cap, are you feeling okay?” Barton peered at him, trying to sneak a glimpse of the room past Steve’s shoulders.
“Yeah,” he managed. “I just, I don’t like crowds much. You all go on without me.”
Clint didn’t exactly try to hide his disappointment. “Look, your team wants to have fun. At least try to be a part of it.”
If he didn’t get out of this right now he was going to collapse and everyone would know that some days Steve woke up and didn’t get out of bed. Some days he couldn’t make himself move because damn him he just didn’t want to anymore. It was like everything alive inside of him really had died in the ice.
“I’m sorry,” said Steve. “Thanks for inviting me.” He shut the door in Clint’s face. The archer’s exasperated sound was clear, but Steve didn’t hear anything past that as he fell onto the bed. His team hated him. And Steve didn’t have the energy to care.
+1
POV Natasha
After refusing a night on the town with the team last week Rogers had been even more withdrawn than usual. Natasha had forgiven him for losing his cool around the girl during the Tremor attacks, but she still couldn’t figure Rogers out. So it was a pleasant surprise when he agreed to join them on the swim deck for a day of sun.
Rogers was clearly trying to appease the rest of the team, and she gave him a small smile when he settled into the lawn chair next to hers. They read in silence while Thor, Clint, and Tony shot hoops in the pool. Bruce was grilling - mushrooms for him and burgers for the rest. It was the sort of peace that made Natasha antsy. The bikini she’d donned didn’t help. She kept looking at the scar on her stomach, something she generally tried to ignore.
Bruce announced that the burgers were ready and Rogers volunteered to grab plates and drinks from inside. The other boys congregated by the grill and hastily dried off.
“I’ve just had a truly brilliant idea,” Tony announced. SHIELD had been wrong about his inability to be a team player but his smugness did get on Natasha’s nerves.
“Well, spit it out,” said Bruce.
“Give me a moment to marinate in this idea’s supreme greatness.”
Groans from the rest of the boys. Aware of Tony’s attention, Natasha rolled her eyes.
“So we all know Capsicle has a real stick up his ass. No sleeping in, no kids, no hanging out with the team. Basically a ban on all things fun. I mean, the guy can’t even get drunk.”
“Get to the point,” said Natasha.
Tony held up his hands. “We all need the Good Captain to lighten up a bit. So let’s play a little prank. Treat him like one of the gang and he’ll have to loosen those spectacularly sculpted shoulders.” Tony set his towel down. “When Spangles gets back, and sets the plates down on the table, let’s sneak up behind him and toss him into the pool.”
“Doesn’t that seem a little childish to you?” said Bruce.
“Well yes, that’s the point. Come on, you can’t tell me you haven’t dreamt about shoving him around a bit? Mr. Patriotic. Mr. Perfect.”
“Careful Stark,” said Natasha sweetly, “Your daddy issues are showing.”
“I think Tony’s right,” said Clint. “He doesn’t know how to relax around us, so let’s stop treating him like a Commanding Officer and have a good laugh.”
“It would greatly amuse me to see the surprise on our Captain’s face when he finds himself in the pool,” said Thor. “I too have noticed his penchant for melancholy.”
Natasha said nothing as the boys prepared for their prank. This was either going to work perfectly or Rogers was going to be spitting mad. Natasha settled in and prepared herself for a good show.
Exactly as planned, Rogers reappeared, set the tray of plates and glasses on the table near the pool, turned to get in line for food, and was promptly shoved by Clint and Tony into the water. For a second Natasha had to admit is was pretty funny. Rogers made a ridiculous expression as he realized what was happening and hit the water with a huge crash. Thor bellowed with laughter, and Tony literally doubled over in hysteria.
But Rogers wasn’t emerging from the pool to laugh or scold them. No, he was thrashing about like someone drowning.
“Oh my God,” said Bruce. “Can he swim?”
Tony straightened and the grin dropped from his face. “What’s happening? What’s wrong with him?”
Thankfully Thor’s shock faded quickly and he dove into the water. He tried to grab Rogers and haul him out, but the Captain was fighting him. Tony jumped in too, followed by Clint, and after a tense few seconds they managed to shove Rogers onto the lip of the pool.
Steve curled over himself, gasping for air, clutching at his chest. His eyes were wild and unfocused and he flinched and struck out as Thor moved to examine him.
Oh God. What had they done?
“Cap? Cap? What’s going on?” Clint said frantically to Natasha. She rose from her seat and was at Steve’s side in an instant. His chest heaved erratically and he seemed to be muttering something in between breaths.
“He’s having a panic attack,” Bruce said. “No one else touch him, I don’t think he knows where he is.”
“The Valkyrie,” said Natasha, “He was awake when it crashed in the ice. The water must have triggered that memory.” Of course. She should have seen this coming. She’d known something was off about Steve. This was a full scale flashback, and she’d bet that night he’d thrown up at her cooking had been the same. They’d all been idiots when it came to Rogers.
“Shit,” said Tony. “Shit shit shit. I had no idea . . .”
“Guilt later, help now,” said Bruce. “Go get him some fresh towels. Warm if possible.”
Steve was still curled over himself and visibly shivering. His hands curled into sopping wet hair, like he was trying to crush his own head. A few feet away Bruce tried coaching him through some breathing and he seemed to be calming slightly. When Tony and Clint came sprinting back with towels he was breathing well enough for them to hear what Steve was saying:
“Captain Steven Grant Rogers, 54985870. Captain Steven Grant Rogers, 54985870 . . .”
Thor managed to wrap a towel around the Captain’s shoulders and asked, “What is the meaning of this?”
“It’s his rank and serial number from the Army,” said Bruce, suddenly pale. “World War II soldiers were taught to repeat it under torture. His brain has just re-lived a lot of trauma, he’s bound to be confused.” Indeed, Rogers was staring at the deck tiles with no recognition in his eyes. His white shirt was pasted to his skin, and the clear outline of dog tags showed beneath.
“Let me try to speak with him,” said Thor. “I have seen soldiers like this before.” The others cleared away, sharing guilty and concerned looks. They’d known he was a veteran but it was easy to forget he wasn’t invincible.
“Hello Steve,” said Thor. “I know you are very cold and confused right now but please try to listen to me.” Rogers squeezed his eyes shut, panting. “I am your friend, Thor, and I would like to help you.” The litany of name, rank, number, ceased.
“Do you know where you are, Captain?” asked Thor. Steve raised his face, took in the area around Thor, and nodded numbly. “Do you know what year it is?” Another dull nod. “Alright,” said Thor, “I am going to give you a fresh towel and then we are going to stand and get you inside where it’s warm, okay?” Another nod.
Only once Rogers was bundled up on the edge of the couch did Thor allow the other Avengers near him. He was still shaking, blue eyes bright and unfocused. He looked young and small and scared, and something unmovable twinged in Natasha.
“Steve,” Bruce began, “What just happened to you is called a panic attack. It’s when you feel like you can’t breathe, or like you’re having a heart attack. For you I’m guessing that was brought on by a flashback, or an overwhelming memory.”
No response from Steve.
Next to Natasha, Tony’s fingers where whirling a mile a minute. He looked horribly uncomfortable with the whole situation, and Natasha made a mental note to assure him this wasn’t entirely his fault when they had taken care of Steve.
“As I’m sure your SHIELD therapist has told you,” Bruce continued, “These are all normal reactions to PTSD. Considering what you’ve been through, and how young you are, we all should have been more careful in helping you manage it.”
Still nothing.
“This isn’t the first time, is it?” asked Natasha. She felt the others’ eyes jump to her. “The day you threw up in the kitchen, and with the little girl. Those were flashbacks too, weren’t they?”
Clint paled at the words.
Steve took a ragged breath. “I don’t have ShellShock,” he croaked. “I’m just . . .I’m just . . .I promise I’m not crazy.”
The rest of the team exchanged looks of horror.
“Please don’t kick me off the team,” Steve said, swiping at his red-rimmed eyes. “You’re all I have.”
“Spangles . . .” said Tony. “You know Shellshock isn’t a thing anymore, right? PTSD is, like, a real medical condition that’s not just for soldiers. Hell, I have it from falling through that wormhole.”
“Yeah,” said Clint, “Nobody gets discharged or sent to asylums for that stuff anymore. Didn’t SHIELD tell you that?”
Rogers shook his head and a collective groan of frustration came from the group. This was so much worse than Natasha had thought.
“So you’re not reporting me to Fury?”
“Not necessarily,” said Bruce. “But we do need to talk about this and any other symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”
“Like what?” asked Steve. His voice was monotone, his eyes flat.
“Have you had trouble sleeping? Are you adjusting well to being in crowds or large spaces?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Steve,” Bruce leaned closer to him. “We’re trying to help you.”
“I don’t sleep much,” Steve admitted. His throat bobbed. “And when I do it’s on the ground. Bed’s too soft.”
Natasha felt like she’d swallowed half a dozen stones.
“Are you having trouble sleeping because of nightmares?” Bruce asked in his best doctor voice.
At this Rogers seemed to visibly shut down again, so Natasha suggested he go take a hot shower and get into some dry clothes before they continued. As soon as he was gone Tony set his head in his hands.
“How did we miss this?” said Stark. “I mean, the guy’s been living here for two months having panic attacks and hiding flashbacks, sleeping on the floor for God’s sake.”
“When I first met the Captain I knew this leadership was a burden on him,” said Thor. “I thought it was because a commander is always separated from his men by rank, but now I see it is that he has been trying to be Captain America for you at the expense of Steve Rogers.”
Clint knocked his glass of water off the sofa arm and it shattered on the floor. His face was twisted in fury. “He told me he didn’t like crowds. I should have put it together.”
Bruce removed his glasses. “If anyone should be to blame it’s me. I’m the doctor here. God, the isolationism, the constant exercising. Most soldiers struggle with coming home, and he’s had no one to help him through it. Frankly, I’m not sure he should be left alone in his current state.”
“We’re all to blame,” said Clint. “We all should have seen past the idea of Captain America.” He looked to the group. “Are we gonna bring this up to Fury?”
“No,” said Stark. “The 40’s clearly messed up his brain. I don’t think he’ll ever trust us if we tattle on him to Dad. Besides, Fury was the one not sending him to therapy like we’d all assumed.”
“We’re not involving Fury,” said Natasha. “What Steve needs now is people to look after him and listen to him. I think we can all agree to do a better job of that.”
Her statement was met with grim nods from the rest.
“He’s been gone a long time,” said Tony, “I’m gonna go check on him.”
Clint stood, too. “I’ll come with. We both pushed him in.”
TONY POV
“God this place is depressing,” said Tony, stepping through Roger’s kitchen. The walls were totally blank, only a handful of history books on the shelves. It was like a ghost lived there.
“You’ve never been to his floor before?” said Clint.
Well that stung. “What, like you guys party here every Tuesday? Of course I haven’t been here before.” Ideas for improvement were already whirling around Tony’s head. Maybe he could find some old photographs or build Roger’s some specialized equipment. Or he could, if Tony actually knew what the guy might like.
“Sorry,” Clint said, “It’s not like I spent any more time with him than the rest of you. Only time I was here was that night he refused to come out with the rest of us. And now that I think about that it’s obvious he was having some kind of depressive episode.” Clint kicked the door to Roger’s bedroom a little more forcefully than necessary.
“We all screwed up,” said Tony. Him most of all. Tony knew what PTSD looked like, he’d lived with it after Afghanistan and after the wormhole. But he’d had Pepper, and Rhodey, and his work to pull him out of it. Tony had been so worried about what Howard might have thought, about if Rogers hated him, and the whole time he’d been battling this alone.
“Steve?” Clint called. He knocked on the door to Roger’s bathroom. Not Rogers, Steve. Tony was going to have to get used to that.
No response.
“Hey buddy, open up or we’re coming in there,” said Tony.
Buddy? Clint mouthed incredulously.
“Shut up. I’m trying something new.” They pushed open the door. It was instantly clear that something was wrong. The shower was running and steam poured out of the open door. In the fogged mirror Tony made out a blurred reflection of Steve, curled at the bottom of the shower. His skin was mottled red and pink.
Clint reached through the water to turn off the shower and cursed colorfully. It was boiling hot.
“Well this is a lot more super-soldier than I planned to see today,” said Tony.
“Dude!” Clint whapped him on the back of the head and reached for the rack of towels. Okay, Tony deserved that.
Kneeling beside Steve, Tony awkwardly said, “Steve? Hey, anybody in there?” He glanced hopelessly to Clint, who looked as uncomfortable as Tony felt. No response from Rogers. His blue eyes were like glaciers and there was no reaction when Tony placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s get him out of the shower,” said Clint. It was unsettling, and a little frightening seeing Rogers - no Steve - like this. Limp, blank, like the life had been sucked out of him. With his wild blond hair he looked like a little kid, and Tony felt the unfamiliar urge to smother him with blankets and hot chocolate.
“God,” said Tony, once they’d hauled Steve to a seated position on the bed. “He looks so . . .”
“I know,” said Clint. “I didn’t realize he was this young.” Clint sat next to Steve on the bed, trying to dry the shaking soldier off. He was naked except for the dog tags. “How old exactly?”
“Disregarding his time in the ice, Captain Rogers is twenty two,” said J.A.R.V.I.S.
Twenty two.
That was half Tony’s age.
Tony had really fucked up this time. He didn’t need Clint or Pepper or J.A.R.V.I.S to tell him that. Pushing an orphaned veteran into his worst nightmare. Way to go. Ten points for Stark. God, he needed a drink.
“Hey,” said Clint, struggling to wrap a towel around Steve, who seemed to be coming to enough to fight them. “He needs you right now. We’re all he has. So put the guilt complex aside and help me dry him off.”
Despite his penchant for disobeying authority Tony was grateful for orders in a situation like this. He needs you. Isn’t that what Tony resented about Captain America? That, despite all of his wealth and genius and generosity, there seemed to be nothing he could give a living legend which would measure up to Howard? Every time Cap had refused gifts or parties or help it hadn’t been because he knew he was better than the rest of them - it was just because he was a scared kid who didn’t know how to ask.
Still mostly unresponsive, Steve’s breaths turned into labored pants.
“Hey Steve, Steve are you with us?” said Clint, putting a hand on the blond’s shoulder. He didn’t shake Clint off, but Steve’s arms wrapped around his bare torso like a frightened animal. And Tony honestly didn’t really think about it until he’d done it, but he scooted closer on the bed and wrapped Steve up in his arms. Steve gave a soft shudder but didn’t move away.
Having not thought he’d get this far, Tony shot Clint a panicked look over Steve’s shoulder. Clint, clearly a little surprised, gave him a hesitant thumbs up.
“Hey, hey,” Tony murmured, “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Tony pulled him a little firmer against his body and suddenly Steve was there. He pushed his face into Tony’s neck, embracing him hard. Hot breath warmed Tony’s neck and shoulder and he could feel Steve shaking like he was trying not to cry. He ran a hand through Steve’s hair and the soldier un-tensed by an inch. So Tony kept doing it, and whispering platitudes, and trying not to A) think about how weird this was or B) cry.
If he’d been slightly more irresponsible in his college days Steve could have been Tony’s son.
“I’ve got you,” said Tony. And he did.
STEVE POV
For once, Steve was warm. After he’d tried to burn his skin off in the shower, and been mortifyingly manhandled by Clint and Tony, Steve had decided that the best course of action was to sleep it off. When he woke, Tony was sitting in a chair fiddling on his Starkpad, and Clint was stepping out of the bathroom.
“Thank God you’re awake,” said Clint, “I’m starving.”
A blush warmed Steve’s neck, and then the rest of him as he glanced down to find no clothes on beneath the bed covers.
“Don’t worry,” said Tony, “I’ve sworn to only gloat about getting you naked to Pepper.” Ignoring this, Steve sat up and slid on the boxers Clint tossed him. Then he stood and finished getting dressed, wary of the way his teammates were watching him.
“I don’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind about kicking me off the team,” he said. “I don’t . . .I don’t even remember getting into the shower, I was just thinking about how cold it was.”
“Don’t apologize,” said Clint. “We shouldn’t have left you alone after the first flashback.”
“And we’re not kicking you off the team, kid. In case you haven’t noticed, dysfunctional is basically our namesake.” Stark was looking at the computer screen and not him, and the memory of the hug washed over Steve. No one had held him like that since Bucky was alive.
“Tony.” He finally looked up. “Thank you.” Steve only got a shrug in response but he knew what it meant.
“You ready to go upstairs?” Clint tossed Steve his shoes. “Dinner’s ready. They’re waiting for you.”
Steve smiled and laced up the shoes. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
He still didn’t know these people that well, and he knew the not-sleeping and panic attacks wouldn’t go away just because they were watching out for him. But as Steve sat down between Thor and Natasha, as Tony clapped him on the shoulder from behind, he knew that things would be better.
Someday he would tell them the story of the little girl, and the Polish family, and the name etched in his dog tags. Someday he would find what he’d left in the ice. Someday.