chuckling, and then Tony and Bruce and even Natasha are joining in, and Steve is suddenly hit with such a wave of emotion that he could burst into tears. He＊s home, god, he＊s home with this bunch of idiots and there＊s nowhere else he＊d rather be. He＊s not been left behind again, not lost everyone, they＊re all here with him-

※Alright, let him go,§ Tony＊s voice suddenly says. ※Hop to, Romanov, get your beautiful ass off his feet-§

The weight from his feet vanishes and then Clint slides off his thighs as the same time Bruce lets go of his arm. Thor is the last to move; nodding and stepping back, apparently satisfied that Steve isn＊t going to make another ill-advised break for it.

Tony, however, doesn＊t move away; Steve feels gentle tugs at the back of his hand and watches as Tony untangles his arm from the IV line again, before leaning over to tug the sheets straight. His hands are efficient yet gentle and it makes his stomach twist in a confusing new way, shaky and warm and not altogetherfortable. He still feels strange, like his thoughts are trying to wade through treacle, slow and groggy.

※Someone go find some more chairs,§ Tony says, though his eyes don＊t leave Steve＊s face. ※And raid the vending machine. Raid all the vending machines, the poor guy hasn＊t eaten in days and he gets cranky when he misses second breakfast. Actually, a thousand bucks to whoever can get a damn pizza here in the shortest amount of time.§

His hands smooth down over Steve＊s shoulders, and they＊re shaking slightly.

※Don＊t-§ Steve begins, but he falters, stops. He wants to ask Tony not to go, but everything＊s so tangled up and confusing, and he doesn＊t even know how to begin looking at Tony anymore, not after what he found out about Seven and Stephanie and Six-One-Eight and hell, every other damn version of himself-

※Steve, here.§

He blinks and Tony is holding out a cup of water. He reaches out with a shaky hand to take it, draining it and realising just how thirsty he is, and Tony takes the empty cup and refills it without question.

Steve drains that one too, and as Tony takes the empty cup he almost feels himself give up. He＊s exhausted and sick and emotional and he doesn＊t want to second guess or appease the denial that he can feel lurking on his periphery. He just wants to allow himself whateverfort he can before the fog clears from his mind and he has to start making sense of it all.

※Don＊t go.§

The words are hoarse and quiet, and Tony doesn＊t so much as flinch. He simply clambers back onto the bed next to Steve and sits up, sliding an arm over his shoulders and pulling Steve around until Steve is resting against his shoulder, head on Tony＊s collarbone.

※You think I＊m going anywhere ever again, you＊ve got another thinging,§ Tony turns his head abruptly and speaks into Steve＊s hair, and Steve is confused because that＊s not what Tony usually says, he usually makes jokes and tells Steve he can do perfectly well without his star-spangled-ass, and he never sounds so genuine.

He thinks of Stephanie, Seven and the wedding band, and is this what they saw in their Tonys? Tony＊s fingers side over his ear and into his hair, the heel of his hand pressing gently against Steve＊s cheekbone, thumb stroking against his temple. Steve can hear the others moving around in the room and he should push Tony away because this isn＊t how they are in this universe, or maybe Tony is just being so handsy because Steve got hurt and he thinks it＊s his fault?

Should he even care?

He lifts his own hand and clumsily wraps his fingers around Tony＊s wrist, holding the hand in place. Tony＊s fingers stroke through the short hair above his ear and he shudders out a breath, aching for thefort, the simple touch keeping him grounded and reminding him that he＊s okay, he＊s still here.

He feels his eyelids drooping, tries to fight it. Tony notices and shushes him, thumb stroking Steve＊s cheek.

※Go to sleep, Cap,§ he says. ※I swear on JARVIS I won＊t let you turn into a Capsicle again.§

He hears Clint snigger, hears something that sounds like Natasha smacking him upside the head. He hears footsteps and the scrape of chairs on the floor. The quiet movement around him is so soothing, everything he needs right now to chase away the fear that he＊s still going to end up alone once more.

※Where am I?§ he asks again, voice still hoarse and painful.

※SHIELD medical. They wouldn＊t let me take you back to the tower,§ Tony says, and his voice is wavering slightly, just enough for Steve to notice. ※And you＊re too damn heavy to smuggle out.§

※Have,§ Steve tries, coughing roughly in the back of his throat. His fingers tighten on Tony＊s wrist.

※For once in your life, stop talking,§ Tony says, but there＊s no heat to the words, just a soft genuine cadence that Steve rarely hears from Tony, and certainly not ever directed at him.

Steve ignores him, forces the words out.

※Have I been here the whole time?§

There＊s a long pause. ※Yes,§ Tony finally says, dragging the word out and sounding cautious, hesitant. ※I told you they wouldn＊t let us move you. Why are you asking? They haven＊t stolen any super-soliderans to experiment on, if that＊s what you＊re worried about, Bruce has been checking-§

※No,§ Steve says, exhausted and edging swiftly and inexorably back towards sleep. With Tony right next to him and the others nearby, it doesn＊t seem as frightening as it should. He feels more fingers slide through his hair, strong yet delicate, mostly definitely Natasha. ※I just＃I think. I think my mind has been places it shouldn＊t have been.§

And sleep is rolling over him like a smothering blanket, pulling him down despite his best efforts to keep his eyes open. He dimly hears someone swear, voices talking urgently and footsteps moving quickly away. They＊re mentioning the doctors, saying something about brain scans and checking his frontal lobe activity, and he hears Reed Richard＊s name being thrown in there too, and Stephen Strange.

Must have been something I said, he thinks, and then he＊s out.

And Tony gets as far as the doorway and then changes his mind and about turns, back towards Steve. He sits on the edge of the bed and takes Steve＊s hand in his, clutching it between both of his own and bringing it up to his face

※Tony?§

Bruce＊s voice is gentle, questioning. Tony shakes his head, screws his eyes shut. His breath ising too short in his chest and in that moment the relief hits him like a ton of bricks, a punch to the chest.

Steve＊s alive.

He＊s alive and he＊s awake and he＊s back, and he＊d opened his eyes, still blue and bright even after the past few weeks. He＊d managed to speak, voice rough and torn and beautiful as he rasped out Tony＊s name of all fucking things-

The door softly clicks shut and Tony draws in a shuddering breath. There are tears on his cheeks, wet and messy, squeezing from beneath his clenched eyelids. He tries to pull himself together, opening bleary eyes and letting go of Steve＊s hand to swipe across his face, hoping he hasn＊t woken Steve up-

He hasn＊t. Steve sleeps on, mouth slightly open and brow slightly furrowed. He looks different, asleep instead of unconscious, and Tony is never going to bitch at him for frowning ever again, because it＊s that stubborn frown on his sleeping face that reassures Tony he＊s still there, he＊s simply asleep and not gone again.

Gulping valiantly, trying to get his breathing steady and back to normal, Tony pulls the sleeve of his shirt over his hand and wipes his face. It doesn＊t work; his lungs still catch and spasm and hup, and he can＊t stop crying, like he＊s a hormonal goddamn teenager. He swears roughly, looks up at the ceiling and forces himself still, to show a fa?ade of calm, of control.

A minute later and he＊s externallyposed. He shuts his eyes for a long moment and looks down at Steve＊s sleeping face, glad to find that he can now look at him without breaking down. He pushes the feelings away, because he knows he＊s going to have to batten down the emotional hatches to deal with the conversation he can sense lurking in the distance.

The guilt rolls back, thick and familiar underneath the relief.

※Whatever you say to me,§ he begins, and takes a steadying breath so he can continue. ※However fucking mad you are with me, whatever you say, I＊m just 每 fuck, you will never know how glad I am that you＊re back.§

Steve doesn＊t answer, but this time it＊s okay. Now Tony knows it＊s only a matter of time before he wakes back up, and he will be able to hear that rough voice and see the brightness of his eyes, even if the voice is cursing Tony for what he did and the eyes are narrowed in anger.

Whatever form it takes, Tony will take it.

※＃then everything went black, and then I woke up, here again.§

Steve finishes his tale 每 the very abridged version, he has neither the strength nor energy to tell them everything right now 每 and then looks up from where he＊s been fiddling with the IV that＊s still in the back of his hand. Tony had batted his hand away once, but then seemed to et all about it in the wake of what Steve has to stay. The whole room is silent, a pregnant pause as he looks up and tiredly takes in the expressions on his friends＊ faces.

※Alright, who gave Captain America acid? Because that sounds like you＊ve been tripping balls.§

All faces turn as one to Clint, who is somehow perched on the windowsill, looking somewhere between incredulous and impressed. Steve lets out a sigh through his nose, reaching up to rub between his eyebrows, because whilst he didn＊t want to have to convince them all about what happened, he doesn＊t blame them for finding it a little hard to wrap their heads around. Frankly, he sounds insane and he knows it.

※That＊s what happened,§ he says, dropping his hand and eyes flicking to Clint. ※Take it or leave it.§

Clint holds his hands up like he＊s surrendering. ※Oh I＊ll take it. That＊s fine, I believe you. But I still maintain,§ he says, spreading his hands out expressively. ※Tripping balls.§

Steve would

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