A bit of a bro fic, yay! Could be read as pre-slash if anyone wanted to do that, though, I guess.

Enjoy!

(Marvel owns these characters.)


Time doesn't heal all wounds.

That's what Steve knows. He knows that the old expression is just that - an expression - and something as constricting and cruel as time serves to make wounds more painful.

Time is supposed to be helpful? He scoffs at the thought, and Steve isn't a scoff sort of guy, so that's saying something. He wants to believe time is healing, he really does. It's what Bruce always says to him when he's hurt.

"Time'll heal that right up. Er. Less time than normal for you, of course, because of the serum."

And then he starts murmuring calculations and chemicals that Steve can't keep up with, but still. The expression is there.

But time is nothing short of his enemy, ever since the plane and the ice and the seventy year sleep.

He has nightmares, of course. Who wouldn't? Except Steve never wakes up from his nightmares, he just wakes up to another one, one where he's in the future and knows nothing and no one. When he wakes up, body rigid and drenched in cold sweat, he almost feels ashamed. Ashamed that he, the icon of American freedom and goodness, cannot get over a culture shock. But it's just...too much of a shock. It's paralysis.

One of the nights he wakes up he is met with a blue glow lighting up his walls. Even through his panic and grogginess he realizes it can only be one person. "Stark?"

Said person turns around and he glow gets brighter though it's still dim through Tony's shirt. "Oh, hey, Cap. Uh, well, Jarvis was telling me that you can't sleep very well so I was here to bring you some milk and cookies if you woke up. Aren't I sweet?" Steve's incredulous look makes Tony sigh. "Okay, so there was no one else that I could force into bringing you the food so I did it myself," he admits.

Steve closes his eyes and sighs, a small expression of disbelief passing over his features. "Thanks."

"No problem," Tony says cheerfully. He pulls up a chair from the table next to him and sits on it, making Steve wonder how long he was going to be in here.

"I, uh, I'm sorry if my nightmares have been keeping you awake."

Tony waves his hand. "It's fine, I get them too. No big deal."

"Really? From...from what?"

"Going broke. Losing my suit. Not being able to get as many ladies. You know," the man says with a smile and a shrug.

Steve finds his lips twitching upward. "Right, right. But really, what?"

Tony's smile is gone faster than Steve can see, and he says quietly but firmly, "I know you've read all our files, Cap. Why do you need me to tell you?"

"I wanted to give you a chance to say it yourself..." the solider says, grimacing a little.

There's silence as Steve's words hang in the air and Tony finally nods. "Well there you have it. But tell me, why do you have nightmares?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Nightmares. You have them. Why. It's a fairly simple question."

Steve blinks. "The reason should be obvious, don't you think?"

"I'm an engineer. A scientist," Tony tells him with a shrug. "I like to know facts and not make assumptions. That way I'm right pretty much all the time."

"Well this assumption is safe to make."

"So you have nightmares about ice cubes?"

Suddenly, Steve wishes he didn't ask about Tony's nightmares. He wishes he didn't have his own nightmares. He wishes Tony was still a selfish bastard and didn't bring him cookies and milk. He wishes Tony was gone, in his own room, having his own nightmares in his own bed. But most of all he wishes he was back in the 1940s, back with Peggy, back with what he knew.

His voice hardens. "No, Stark, I don't have nightmares about ice cubes."

"What is it, then?"

And Tony's voice is just so causual, so nonchalant, that something inside Steve snaps.

"Stark, I think you should leave."

"Well that's-"

"Thank you for the cookies."

"You're-"

"Leave, Stark!"

The engineer just stares back at him. "No."

"No?"

"No. Why do you have nightmares?"

"Stark."

"I just-"

"I'm warning you, Stark."

"Was that a-"

"I don't belong here!" Steve finally shouts at Tony. "I don't belong! I fly into ice and then open my eyes and I'm seventy years ahead of my time! I don't know what's changed, or what things mean, or how things work!"

Theres a beat where Steve expects Tony to make a comment, but all the other man does is lean back in the chair and raise a brow. So the soldier takes a breath and continues.

"There's nothing I can do to catch up. True, I can read up on things, and the team can help, I'm sure, but I will never truly know what happened in those seventy years. They're gone. Just like I should be. You hear that, Stark? I should be gone."

Tony purses his lips and says, "I'm positive Peggy wouldn't want that. You just need a little time to get used to everything."

"You know something funny? The time that everyone keeps saying I need? That very time is the reason I can't remember what Peggy looked like! The only reason I remember what Howard looked like is because of the documentaries on TV! And Bucky..." At this point Steve buries his face in his hands. His voice cracks as he says, "I never even went to his funeral."

Steve hears footsteps and doesn't bother to look up as Tony leaves his room after the outburst. He does, however, look up when he realizes Tony hadn't left, but made his way over to the bed and put a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Hey," he says softly. "You belong, okay? Sure, you're actually super old and stuff, but you belong."

There's a head shake and a sigh from the solider.

"Sure you do," Tony confirms. "We need you and so does the world. You're a hero, and you've saved a lot of people. I'm positive one of us would be dead without you. It wouldn't be me, though, that's for sure."

Steve looks up at Tony's grinning, lit up, and sincere face and, after a beat, chuckles. "Definitely."

Tony nods, pleased with Steve's answer, and goes and gets the cookies that were on the table. "Here. Enjoy. And then go back to bed, you're making me lose sleep."

Before Steve can argue or apologize, Tony turns on his heel and walks out, leaving the solider to wonder what exactly the engineer was thinking when he had decided Santa food was good for nightmares.


Despite the talk and odd snack, Steve woke up the next day feeling rested; he hadn't had another nightmare.

This time, though, there was no blue light waiting for him. Instead, there were a few papers on his table, and Steve curiously went to pick them up. He froze.

There, on the table, was a picture of Peggy, as real and beautiful as the day he last saw her, and there were the original designs of his shield that Howard had made, and then a picture of Bucky's grave with an address and directions though the cemetery on the back.

Steve smiles.

"Mr. Rogers, all the other team members are starting breakfast now; shall I make sure Mr. Odinson does not eat all the pancakes or will you not be attending breakfast this morning?"

"I'm coming, Jarvis, please make sure there's food left for me."

"Of course, sir."

When he gets to the kitchen there are only three pancakes waiting for him, and Thor looks at him guiltily. "I apologize, Captain, this Midgardian food is delicious and I could not stop."

"That's fine, Thor."

He grabs his pieces and proceeds to sit next to Tony, who looks suspiciously innocent.

"Hey, Tony?" Steve asks rather loudly.

"Yeah?"

"You have got to stop sneaking into my room in the middle of the night."

Tony grins, eyes sparkling, as everyone turns to look at them with questioning looks. "Good to have you here, Captain. Good to have you here."


Awwww, so cheesy. And fluffy. Ew, I wrote cheese-flavored cotton candy.