It had been a really long plane ride.

That's why Steve could do nothing but feel his entire body tense up before he was barreled over by a blond giant.

"STEVEN. I HAVE MISSED YOU MOST ARDENTLY."

"I knew he was harboring homosexual feelings," He heard Clint mumble. Natasha elbowed him in the side.

Since Thor had his arms wrapped around him like he was tree trunk, Steve couldn't do anything but prop his chin on his friend's shoulder. "Good to see you too," He wheezed.

Finally releasing the slightly shorter blond, Thor held Steve at arm's length, grin widening.

"Let us celebrate your return with jest and mead!"

"… It's eleven in the morning."

The Scandinavian man shrugged. "It's happy hour somewhere."

The other people in the airport eyed their strange group. Between the large Thor who really did believe he was the god of thunder, a stone faced red head, and a smirking brunette who looked like he would mock you just to see you cry, Steve had to admit that they were quite the site.

"It really is good to have you home," Natasha said as she gave Steve a brief hug. For her to even admit out loud that she missed him was the Natasha equivalent of sobbing and kissing.

"Thanks," Clint pat Steve on the shoulder, smiling. "And thanks for letting me stay with you guys until I get back on my feet."

"Don't mention it, Steve. I'd rather have you stay with us then be somewhere by yourself."

The soldier nodded, one hand fiddling with the strap of his carry on. It felt great to be home, but it also felt like an alien planet. For the last two years he'd been in some desert being shot at and trying to avoid being blown to bits. Now there were people annoyed at the crying children in the airport, or someone irate that their flight had been delayed for an hour. Steve couldn't even grasp it.

Natasha must have noticed his fidgeting. "You're probably exhausted, let's get out of here,"

"Yeah,"

〖 〗

His friends had the collective emotional health of a cactus.

While Steve wasn't too eager to discuss his feelings, the attempt by his group would have been appreciated. Thor was the typical jock so any feelings past sex, food, and sleep were not prioritized, Natasha considered 'love' appropriate only for children, and Clint… well, Steve wasn't sure eighty percent of the time what Clint was thinking, but he never said.

Therefore, they only had one social lubricant to deal with Steve readjusting to civilian life.

"THIS NEW MEAD, I LIKE IT. ANOTHER."

Steve was still nursing his first glass. Using alcohol to cope with PTSD just didn't seem like a good idea to him. Luckily, he did have one person to help him deal with his stress.

"Thor, what did we talk about?"

Only Bruce could reduce Thor to a state of a meowing kitten. "'My inside voice'…"

"Yes, are we inside?"

"Yes…"

"So…?"

"I must use 'my inside voice' while indoors."

"Good job," Bruce flung a hot wing at him.

Steve grinned at Thor's pout. He and Bruce sat at one side of their usual booth with Natasha and Clint on the other. Thor sat in a chair in the aisle, generally making it impossible for anyone to walk by him. The bar was pretty packed, that's shouldn't have been surprising since it was a Friday night. Steve's heart was beating a mile a minute, he wanted to do nothing but stand up and run out of this crowded place as fast as he could.

"How do you deal with all of this?" He asked the manic plagued Bruce in a low voice.

The others didn't hear. Clint and Natasha were preoccupied watching Thor trying to out-drink the guy from two tables away. The bar was loud with cheering girls and whooping guys.

"Just breathe,"

Steve stared at him, feeling his gut twist in anticipation for a panic attack. "That's not new,"

"It works, trust me." Steve couldn't help but notice how regulated Bruce's breathing was. Sitting smushed next to him in the booth he could practically feel the even, deep breaths.

Thor plopped back into his seat, wiping at his mouth. "What a weak little creature, to challenge me!"

When Steve met Thor six years ago, he hadn't been sure the guy was messing with him or being serious. However, once the large blond persistently continued to talk to him, Steve realized that this guy was completely serious. They had all speculated at just how he could really believe he was a Nordic god.

"His parents dropped him too many times," Natasha said.

"Delusions," Bruce theorized.

"I don't think he's ever completely sober and this is his drunken alter-ego," was Clint's award winning idea.

Steve had a feeling it was a little of all three. Whatever the reason, the big idiot had grown on them. He was strange and loud, but he was harmless. Clint had been his freshmen roommate in college, and the two had been friends ever since. Natasha had gone to the same college; she was studying abroad from Russia. However, her second day in New York she had applied for citizenship and hadn't left ever since.

It had also taken Steve six months to realize they were dating. They really had never said that they were, it just kind of happened. Steve imagined it went something like this:

Clint and Natasha were sitting in their dorm room, talking about weapons or whatever got them off.

Clint: "We should date."

Natasha: "Whatever,"

They were an odd couple. The only time Steve had ever seen them hold hands and kiss was when both of them were completely trashed on tequila at that Fourth of July party when they were twenty three.

And then there was Bruce. Steve had first met him in this very bar. It was last call, and Steve had been deep in his cups. Stumbling out of the bar, he was fumbling with his keys and trying to remember just where those stairs up to his apartment went when he heard some scuffling. Slowly making his way to the alley between his apartment building and the bar, he saw Bruce was surrounded by three guys.

"You won't like me when I'm angry," was all he heard before the three lunged at him.

Now, Steve was a helpful guy. If he ever saw such an unfair fight he would jump in immediately and help even if he was on the wrong side. He never was a fan of bullies. However, his motor skills had degenerated to that of a newborn, so all he could do was lean against the wall and offer mental moral support. However, Bruce didn't need him.

In less than two minutes he had beaten the three guys to unconsciousness. Steve stared at him in awe.

"How'd you do that?" He slurred.

Bruce had shrugged. "I warned them not to make me angry."

God, they were odd.

〖 〗

That night, Steve lay in bed, staring unblinkingly up at his dark ceiling. The noise of the city was a dull hum for him at this point. He had grown up here and was used to it, but it was golden silence compared to Iraq.

He couldn't sleep.

When he closed his eyes all he could see was sand shooting up from an explosion, hear the ringing of gun shots in his ears, feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck in the sun and the fear he felt as he held one of his dying friends.

Glancing to his nightstand, he could see the outline of her face in the dark, the red lips and the pale skin.

"I miss you,"

It had been four years, two months, and six days since Peggy had died. Steve wasn't sure he was ever really going to get over her.

〖 〗

"Steven, I have decided to be what your people call 'wing man.'"

The army captain groaned.

"Indeed!" Thor clapped him once on the shoulder as they walked the streets of Manhattan. "You see, I am quite gifted at assisting those who are struggling with women-"

"Thor, no-"

"Be silent, my friend! Your 'wing man' shall remedy all!"

"I'm not ready," Steve said in an uncharacteristically low voice.

Thor frowned to himself. Personally, he felt that what Natasha called 'the mourning period' was over. While all of them had been deeply upset by Peggy's untimely death, Steve had been inconsolable. However, Thor felt that he had recovered quite well at this point. He was laughing and smiling again.

It must be his stress to readjusting to life in New York. Thor made it his personal mission to get Steve to have fun.

"Peggy would be very displeased to see you so sad, Steven."

His companion stiffened. "I just- I can't. I'm not ready, OK?"

"Steven-"

"Can we just drop it please?"

Thor was prepared to everything but 'drop it,' but he just couldn't quite bring himself to make that long expression on his friend's face longer. He really should be more equipped to handle these crippling emotions after dealing with his little brother. However all he found himself able to do was give his friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Only if you promise me that you'll try to be happy,"

"… I can only promise to try."

〖 〗

"What the-?"

It had been four months since Steve had been honorably discharged and sent home. He had left that morning to take his monthly pension check to the bank and deposit it and when he returned to Clint and Natasha's apartment he found the owners gathered in tight circle in the living room.

"This is an intervention," Clint answered bluntly.

Natasha sent him a look. "You're supposed to ease him into it."

Clint merely shrugged as if he had stayed up all night agonizing over how to answer that question and that was the only logical way to 'ease him into it'. Bruce leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and appearing deceptively calm. Thor swaggered out of the kitchen with a six pack. Natasha stared at it as if she could make it spontaneously combust.

"What is that?"

Thor shrugged and smiled. "Everything's better with beer,"

Steve rubbed at his temples. "Guys, what are you doing?"

"It's an intervention," Natasha replied.

"Oh, so when he directs the question at you then it's alright for a blunt answer," Clint grumbled at his girlfriend.

"Not the time," Natasha hissed before turning back to Steve. "This is an intervention for your ego."

Was he still on Earth?

"It's really hard to be here for you Steve when you won't let us," She elaborated.

Breathe, that's what Bruce said to do. Breathe,

"You can't deal with this by sitting alone in the apartment all day," Clint added on. "It's not going to help."

"Indeed. Wallowing is not the answer, Steven."

Bruce didn't say anything.

Steve clenched his jaw, he could feel his teeth grinding together and he tried to keep his emotions packed deep down in his chest. Breathe. In and out, in and out…

"You're still alive, Steve, we can get through this."

"No, I can't," He finally ground out, hands balling into fists.

The others exchanged worried glances. "Steve, you're alive, even if bad things have happened at least you have that."

Steve chucked darkly. "'At least I have that'? What do I have, Natasha? I've been diagnosed with PTSD, oh and therapy isn't really helping by the way. I've been discharged because the explosion that got me sent home is also the same explosion which left my leg no longer fully functioning. The only place I've ever really wanted to be in and the only place I really felt like I belonged doesn't want me anymore. I'm unemployed, because let's be honest, who wants to hire a crippled ex-army captain suffering from flashbacks? The love of my life is dead from a car wreck. But, thank God that I'm at least still breathing!"

Steve stopped to take a breath, looking at each of his friends intently, waiting for an answer. Waiting for what the right thing to do was.

Natasha looked chocked up in her own way, Clint was staring at his feet, Thor fiddled with a bottle of beer in his hands and Bruce just stared at Steve.

"Don't tell me it's going to be OK," Steve said in a low voice. "It's not going to be OK, everything that made my life worth anything, made me me, is gone. Everything horrible that could possibly happen to me has. And you all need to find a way to handle it better because I get to handle it however I want."

Steve let the words hang in the air for a moment before grabbing his jacket and walking out of the apartment. He felt like he was suffocating, and no matter how deeply he gasped for air it didn't seem like enough.

He shouldn't be so mad at his friends; he knew they were just trying to help because they cared about him but Christ-

It was hard for him to admit that he was struggling because he had always struggled, it wasn't a novel idea. Nor was he normally this emotionally selfish and self-centered, but he couldn't push through that glass ceiling of grief to care.

His friends all seemed to have their lives finally falling into the right places while his was blown to bits.

Steve didn't go back to the apartment that night.

He came back early in the morning, the sun had only been up for a few minutes. The sound of his key turning in the deadbolt soundly unnecessarily loud and he winced. After sitting alone at a greasy spoon of a diner, the captain had felt quite ashamed of his behavior. He had snubbed the gesture of his friends, two of whom had offered to allow him to live with them until he got better and had done so without complaint.

How could he say that he didn't have anything? He had them.

Steve was surprised to find Clint sitting on the couch.

"Hey,"

It's not like Steve jumped or anything.

"H-Hey…"

An awkward silence fell between the two friends, and Steve twirled his keys in his hands. Clint's arms rested against his knees, and the brunette was looking at his friend speculatively. Steve kept his eyes glued to his loafers as if they were the most fascinating things in the world.

"Just answer me one thing,"

"Hm?"

Clint didn't blink. "Why are you so eager to fight for everyone else, people you haven't even met, but you won't even try to fight for yourself?"

Clint was always great at asking just the right questions and leaving Steve utterly unable to answer them.

〖 〗

"Do I have to?"

"Yes,"

Resisting the urge to kick the ground like a child, Steve slumped towards Natasha's room. The two hadn't spoken since the failed intervention. That was four days ago. Clint was determined however for peace to return between his girlfriend and best friend.

Steve turned back to look at his friend, blue eyes pleading. But she's scary!

Clint just gestured to the door. "She's the ruler of the house, and rulers demand tribute. In our case she wants a tribute of our crying and near dead male dignity."

Well that was reassuring.

Steve meekly knocked on the door and slunk inside when he heard Natasha grunt. She was sitting at her desk, typing away at her laptop. Her eyes flickered up to Steve as he shuffled in the doorway.

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "I need your help,"

To anyone who didn't know her, Natasha's expression didn't change but Steve could see her gaze soften.

"Fine, but you have to do what I tell you."

"OK,"

"Go clean the kitchen."

"…"

Natasha looked up from her keyboard. "Did I stutter?"

No, that was not a squeak that left Steve's mouth. "Yes ma'am!"

She didn't smile affectionately until Steve had closed the door behind himself.

〖 〗

Of course they were back in the bar. They were there practically every night.

However, Steve knew something was going to happen tonight. He could feel it in the air, like a charge. Personally, he thought it was a sign. Since Peggy died, Steve had neglected his faith, which had been unshakable since he was a child. But since he'd broken down emotionally and asked his friends for help, he was surprised when they all told him to go back to church.

"But, you guys always made fun of me…"

"Friends are supposed to be mean, it shows that we care." Clint had replied without looking away from his game of COD.

"I mock it because it is false, YOU HAVE A GOD STANDING BEFORE YOU AND YET YOU'RE STILL A NON-BELIEVER."

"Nobody cares, Thor," The sound of some poor bastard dying on-screen had punctured Clint's remark and Thor's guffawing.

So Steve had started praying again. His repaired relationship with God had been having a positive effect on his mental state, and he was equally taken aback to find Natasha being the most vocal supporter of it.

"If it makes you feel like someone's looking out for you, I can't judge you for that," is what she had said.

So Steve had been praying. Please God, just give me a sign. Show me that there's still a reason for me to wake up in the morning.

Steve felt God in the air tonight, and he sure got a sign although he didn't know it at the time.

Because that's when Bruce walked in, but he wasn't alone.

"Evening everyone,"

"BRUCE. I HAVE DEARLY LAMENTED OVER YOUR ABSENCE. COME, SIT WITH ME."

Bruce sighed and gestured to someone beside him.

"Everyone, this is Tony Stark. He's the man who bought out the company I work for,"

Tony had already gotten the waitress' attention and was ordering a gin and tonic, and he wanted her to hold the tonic.

"'Sup bro?" Clint said, lips at his beer.

Natasha just nodded at him. Bruce shoved a hot wing in Thor's face before he could begin a long-winded speech. Steve just looked this Mr. Stark over.

His pin striped suit was black and expertly tailored for him that it seemed like he was born in the suit. Everything about this man screamed performance and style, something a simple guy like Steve just couldn't comprehend. Tony felt eyes on him, and looked apathetically at Steve over the lenses of his dark purple sunglasses.

"Looking's free, touching will cost you,"

Steve hoped that this wasn't what God had in mind.

.

.

Disclaimer: Used a rant from "Scrubs" slightly verbatim because it was perfect. Kudos to you if you recognize it.