Steve had noticed that Pietro wasn't doing so well. He'd been out of recovery about a month, and all of the Avengers had seen that things weren't going how they should've been. The first few weeks he'd spent in a coma, induced, while they used the little ark tech left from Ultron's attack to encourage the wounds to heal. If it hadn't been for his incredibly fast metabolsim and healing factor, Pietro wouldn't've survived at all.

But at first, it had gone ... well, terribly. Panic attacks, the constant need to keep him drugged up to the eyeballs so he wouldn't rip himself apart by accident. They got to the point of calling Wanda in just so that he could be awake without bleeding all over the place. When they finally decided he was healed enough to leave the ICU - assisted by his constant pestering - Pietro was still on lockdown in the tower itself.

Of course, the tower wasn't much better than the ICU. It was Tony who'd made the offer, of course - their home was evaporated, and it was meant to be where the Avengers lived. Pietro wasn't officially part of the team yet, as he was meant to be recovering, but Wanda was, and Tony wasn't an asshole. He wasn't gonna kick the kid out on his ass - they weren't short of rooms.

Of course the place was luxurious. Tech out the ass; the best of everything. The problem was that Pietro didn't know how to use it. His room might've had an incorporated TV and sound system, as well as books, but he'd never even seen a hidden TV screen. Sokovia wasn't exactly a rich country, and he'd lived with Wanda very hand-to-mouth until Strucker had taken them in. Which hadn't been an exactly bountiful place to live, either.

When the Avengers gathered in the tower, normally in the evening or nights, then it was a nice time. There were staff members moving through too, and Tony was there a lot, but mostly in his engineering labs. Pietro found himself alone, most of the time. And when the evening came and everyone was in high spirits, he smiled and laughed and joked along with them, enjoyed the jokes and the way they responded to him and Wanda trying things they'd never had before - but he still felt like he was seperate. Even Wanda was part of them, far more distant than she'd ever been. Maybe dying had broken that connection, that inherent part of what made them twins.

Pietro didn't notice Steve watching him. Didn't know that Steve realised when the eyes were off him, Pietro's features fell. It had been Steve who was there when he'd first woken up, tied down and screaming in pain. It was Steve who'd brought Wanda in to soothe his mind and let him get some real rest for once. But Pietro just didn't realise, sitting on the sofa that had sort of been claimed as 'his'. There was even a blanket on the back of it, for when he got too cold. Because sleep still wasn't easy, even now he was out of the ICU.

Who knew what happened in the day? But twice Pietro was pulled in to medical when passing staff members caught him almost passed out on the floor, blood having soaked through his bandages. Despite the strict orders not to run, to move carefully, it was clear Pietro was struggling to stick to it. But the merest whisper of the ICU near him was almost enough to push the speedster into another panic attack. There weren't enough people around to assign him constant company, even though he needed it. And Pietro was far too stubborn to ask them for entertainment, when they all came home in high spirits, even if they were sometimes a bit battered and bruised.

Of course, it was Steve that realised Pietro had stopped sleeping in his room. Awakening in the middle of the night after a long mission had sent them to bed in the tower, padding through to the kitchen for a glass of water, the moon coming through the glass wall picked up a shape, outlining it in silver on the sofa. Pausing, Steve frowned, realising what he was seeing was Pietro. Awake, judging by the shine on his eyes; head turned ever so slightly to watch Steve, hair looking very pale, the blanket around his slouched shoulders.
"You okay, kid?" he murmured, moving over to the other, seeing him picked out more clearly now. The eyes looked away, down a little, and the shoulders shrugged.
Sinking to so rest next to the younger man, Steve frowned in concern. He didn't much like the emptiess going on there.

"What're you doing in the dark, Pietro?" he whispered.
"Couldn't sleep." came the low murmur, accent strong because he was clearly exhausted. "Nightmares."
"Could Wanda-"
"No." Pietro cut him off. "She needs to rest. Cannot keep babying me." and the blanket shifted a little tighter. Pity swelled in the Captain's chest.
"Why don't you watch a show? You won't wake anyone up."
"I don't know how." Pietro admitted. The darkness made it easier to own up to things. "I cannot figure how to make any of this technology work."

The pity got stronger. Steve had struggled, too, when he first came out of the ice. If he'd managed it, this kid definitely could.
"It's not too hard." he promised, reaching out in the gloom, finding the remote on the table. "Top left button makes it slide up." he put the remote in Pietro's hand, feeling how cold the long fingers were. "C'mon." Pietro pressed the button. The TV appeared, and flickered on, with the sound automatically low because of the time of day. It was showing some old film, but after Steve's time. "There we go. There's loads of channels. Just flick through until you find something you want." looking at the remote, a little embarrassed he hadn't figured it out, Pietro began to scroll. In the flickering light now, Steve saw just how exhausted he really looked.

"Did you take your painkillers?" Steve couldn't figure why he felt so worried about Pietro. He was an adult, undoubtedly. Really, they were baout the same age, though Steve's maturity was different, with when he'd been iced. The speedster nodded slightly. "Are they helping?"
"No." the murmur was quiet. "I do not think they are strong enough. They wear off too quickly. She said I had to take one every, ah, two hours? At most? But they go within fourty minutes." a slightly bitter laugh, a little wheezy. "The nightmares are worse when it hurts." on the last word, Pietro's voice cracked.

Without even thinking, Steve reached out, putting an arm around Pietro's shoulder. He wasn't surprised when the other looked up, startled. Moving closer, Steve eased Pietro down until the other was resting against his warm chest. Adjusting the blanket so it was fully wrapped around Pietro, arms draped like a protective cage. He felt so tiny compared to Steve, even though he was almost six feet.
"Is this okay?" the kid's claustrophobia was terrible, Steve'd figured that out pretty quick. But to his surprise, Pietro nodded a little. The TV burbled softly in the background, and the pale blue eyes stayed fixed on it, until they grew slowly heavier.

Internally, Steve wondered about his behaviour. There was just this overwhelming sense of protectiveness toward the kid. He'd seen Pietro give his life to protect Hawkeye and that boy. He'd carried the dead body that was now alive, breathing, resting up against him. Maybe that was why. Clint was much the same way; it felt like taking care of his little brother. Or his son. Reckless and foolish but brave. After half an hour, Steve was half dozing himself, but realised Pietro's breathing had evened out. Scooping the other's legs gently, making sure he was still wrapped in the blanket, the super soldier eased upright.

When Pietro awoke in the morning, he was back in his room, curled up on top of the quilt but under the blanket from the lounge. His eyes opened to face his little electronic alarm clock and the little jar of strong painkillers that sat on his bedside table. And much to his surprsie, it was 10am. Six hours sleep. That was the longest he'd rested since before the battle of Sokovia.