g since set and the apartment has gone quiet, but he can＊t sleep. Shield had directed him to a spare room for the night and he＊d gone willingly, wanting to be alone with his thoughts.

He＊s mulling over everything he＊s learned in the past few hours, trying to work out how he feels about it, how it even fits with what he knows about himself and his life. The whole civil war thing just seems so impossible. The Avengers are a team; their whole purpose is to work together to protect people, not to cause problems by fighting. The only way he can deal with even contemplating it is by forcibly reminding himself that each universe is different, have had countless different things shape the oues of their lives. Just because there has been war in one universe doesn＊t mean there will be one in his damn universe.

Aside from the war, there＊s a lot of other things that are upying his thoughts. Wondering about the circumstances surrounding the other Steve＊s is pretty high on the agenda, but muscling its way to the front of the queue is another issue entirely.

Tony Stark.

The whole concept is just a jumbled mess inside his head. He can＊t even 每 how did any version of himself end up marrying Tony Stark? He＊s not even queer, let alone interested in Tony, so what the hell has happened in these other universes for him to end up marrying him? It＊s almost more unbelievable than the news that some versions of he and Tony ended up at war with each other, and isn＊t that frightening, that he can imagine himself hating Tony so much more easily than he can loving him?

It＊s a horrid feeling, butpletely understandable considering what happened between him and Tony most recently. He pulls one hand from behind his head and reaches down to press his palm to the hole in his undershirt where the stake had gone in. He＊s taken his boots and suit off, leaving him in his shorts and blue undershirt. He itches to put the suit back on, feeling vulnerable in this place he doesn＊t know, but it smells of blood and sweat and he keeps flinching every time he shuts his eyes and inhales, being dragged back to the moment where he was stabbed.

※Steve.§

A soft whisper from the doorway draws his attention and he turns his head to the side. He sees SJ hovering in the doorway, looking tired.

※You said you＊de back,§ SJ whispers, and Steve immediately feels guilt roll through him. He pushes himself up on an elbow.

※I＊m so sorry,§ he says, voice low. ※Ipletely ot.§

SJ pads over, stands next to Steve＊s bed, fingers plucking at the sheet. Seems he isn＊t going to hold a grudge against Steve for his momentary lapse, which makes SJ an infinitely better person than Steve is being right now. ※Can I sit with you?§

※Course,§ Steve says, and SJ instantly scrambles up onto the bed next to him, lying down with his head on Steve＊s shoulder.

Surprised and a little taken aback, Steve hesitates and then shifts, moving his arm and wrapping it around SJ＊s shoulders. SJ snuggles in closer and presses a palm to Steve＊s side. Steve is hit with a sudden flash of memory, a bitterly cold night in the orphanage, not long after he＊d first arrived. He＊d been so cold he＊d been beyond shivering, curling in on himself and shuddering so much he＊d felt sick, and then Bucky has been there, elbowing his way into Steve＊s bed. ＆Move your scrawny butt up, Rogers,＊ he＊d said, teeth chattering, shoving his head into Steve＊s armpit and curling up against him. Steve had been so grateful for the warm body and thepanionship that he＊d not even questioned it, just wrapped his skinny arms around Bucky and fallen into a much morefortable sleep than he could ever have previously hoped for.

※I can hear your heart,§ SJ says, and crowds even closer, leaning over and pressing his ear to Steve＊s chest. His eyes go wide in wonder. ※Wow.§

Steve huffs out a surprised laugh, letting his head fall back against the pillow. ※I＊m not properly dead yet, then,§ he says, eyes shutting.

※Is your body still in your universe?§ SJ asks. He coughs once, a rough noise that sounds on the verge of being painful.

※I don＊t know,§ Steve says softly. ※I just know I＊m here, and that＊s all I know.§

He feels SJ shift and the small body settle back down at his side, head resting on his shoulder. Steve hesitates and then gently puts his palm on SJ＊s shoulder.

※Can I stay?§ SJ asks, burrowing into Steve＊s side, obviously relishing the warmth.

Steve＊s initial thought it that he would rather be alone, but he passed over it almost instantly. He remembers what it was like for him being so small and frail; constantly feeling cold, feeling relieved and grateful every night that Bucky snuck into his bed. God, he＊d spent so many nights after his mother died feeling alone and wishing for someone there 每 he doesn＊t know if SJ＊s life followed the same trajectory as his own, but he＊s not about to deny the kid thefort he remembers craving.

※Sure,§ Steve says, and SJ wriggles around a little more and then finally stills. His breath evens out and he soon falls asleep, eyes moving behind the lids as he dreams. Steve watches him for a moment, wondering what he＊s dreaming about and how he died. Maybe something to do with the horrendous cough he seems to have brought with him; he＊d nearly sumbed once or twice himself as a kid, only scraping through by the skin of his teeth.

God, he needs to get back. He has not battled through all the challenges his life has thrown at him for it all to end now. He has to get back to the team and-

And just like that his thoughts are back at Tony.

Steve holds a breath in his chest for long, long seconds and then breathes out. He tries to stop thinking about Tony for more than one damn minute, trying to takefort from the small figure curled up and sleeping next to him.

It doesn＊t work.

※They＊re taking the ventilator out."

Tony is on his feet before he knows it, the chair beneath him screeching back and his knees banging the edge of the cafeteria table. He looks up at Bruce, feeling panicked and angry and oddly betrayed.

※They＊re doing what?!§

※Tony, no,§ Pepper tries, reaching for his sleeve and holding him in place. She casts a despairing look at Tony and the untouched meal on the table where he＊d been sitting, plate surrounded by empty coffee cups.

※Why?§ Tony demands, and extricates his sleeve from Pepper＊s grip. ※Why, what＊s happened?§

※Nothing,§ Bruce says, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as Tony walks away from the table, towards the doors, needing to be out of the goddamn cafeteria and in Steve＊s room right now. He hears footsteps behind him; Bruce＊s steady even footfalls and the sharp click of Peppers heels.

※Then why are they taking it out?§

※His lungs are healed,§ Bruce tells him. ※They＊ve been reducing the amount of time that the machine is actually controlling his breathing, and he＊s basically holding his own now anyway.§

※Why has no-one told me these things?§ Tony snarls, shoving through a door and knocking into an agent carrying an armful of files. He hears Pepper apologising but he doesn＊t care, he needs to be with Steve and talking to someone who can explain why they＊re fucking around with the ventilator. It＊s a piece of shit machinery anyway, and if it hadn＊t been attached to Steve then Tony would have already ripped it apart and built a better one from its remains.

※We did, you weren＊t listening,§ Bruce says without inflection.

Tony ignores him, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. God, despite Bruce＊s reassurances he＊s terrified that the moment they take the ventilator out then Steve will stop breathing, will give up and die-

He bursts into Steve＊s room and it＊s quiet and still. Clint is sat on the chair next to the bed, and the ventilator is gone. His throat goes tight and he holds his own breath as his eyes frantically search, and relief tears through him as he detects the steady rise and fall of Steve＊s chest.

※Fuck,§ he says roughly, and steps forwards, eyes on Steve＊s pale face. He looks so different now the invasive tube is gone, along with the tape that had held it in place. He looks relaxed and like he could be sleeping, and it feels better however also infinitely more awful. He＊s glad the machine is gone, but if Steve＊s body has healed itself enough to not need the machine yet is still not waking up, what does that say?

Maybe in the next few minutes, Tony thinks as he walks over and sits carefully on the edge of the bed.

※He＊s okay,§ Clint says quietly. Behind them, the door softly opens and closes again, and Tony looks over his shoulder to see Pepper outside the room with Bruce. Her expression is understanding, and she raises her hand in a small wave before turning away.

※Any change?§ Tony asks, turning back to Steve.

※No,§ Clint replies. ※They said not to expect any though.§

Tony nods, and absent-mindedly reaches out to push Steve＊s hair back from his forehead. His fingers tremble slightly, and they drift down the side of Steve＊s face, across his mouth to his chin. He swallows hard and then slides his palm onto the side of Steve＊s face, thumb gently tracing the corner of his mouth where he can feel the faint stickiness where the tape used to be.

※So, I now feel awkward,§ Clint says, and Tony blinks, realises what he＊s doing and slowly takes his hand away. ※Is there some new clause to the bro code that I＊ve missed, like circumstances where face stroking is eptable when sober? Or is this a thing? You and Steve?§

※What? No,§ Tony says, frowning and shaking his head agitatedly. ※I just.§

He doesn＊t even know how to continue that sentence, because he＊s starting to suspect that maybe he＊s not been categorising Steve in the same way that he would Clint or Bruce or any of the others, and it＊s not only fucking terrifying but also horrendously painful, because why is he only just realising this now?

※I think maybe it should be a thing,§ Clint says, and pauses. ※I mean, you know they say it＊s a damn thin line between love and asional mutual animosity caused b

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