...then came those years in which i was forced to recognize the existence of a drive within me that had to make itself small and hide from the world of light... Hermann Hesse, Demian

Steve Rogers is 97 years old. (He counts the days that he didn't get to live, too. All 65 years of it. That's what he does. Because he knows—knows—that it's Peggy's 65 years.) He reads the news from the paper and still new to technology, and his cellphone is full of unreplied texts. He prefers calling back. He wears a suit and tie for first dates, and asks for a dance at the second.

"Maybe you really were never meant to live up until now," Brock Romlow thinks its a practical joke.

"I thought you were a slow learner at first, Cap. Now? I doubt it. You're just impossible."

"We're on a mission," Steve deadpans, "now's not a time for chit-chat, soldier."

Brock jeers playfully.

"You should go out sometimes. Meet someone, I mean, might help loosening up."

He smirks.

"Or maybe, you're just not that hip enough, huh?"

Steve merely shrugs it off.

Anthony Stark is an wasted alcoholic. The first time he kissed someone was when he was twelve. It's a dirty little secret, really, because it was with a boy. He forgot his name long time ago, though. After all, that's the good thing about alcohol. It lets people forget. Homosexuality can be medically cured, they say, but Lord only knows what those little pills would do to his tiny brain. That's why he chooses pretense instead.

He has no real friends except his assistant—whom he pays millions, or possibly billions, who cares, he's richer that God—and his computer—which he designed—, and maybe that means that he has none at all, come to think of it.

But he's still Iron Man and people have no choice but to love him. He sometimes thinks it's sort of a shield, something to keep him safe, which is ridiculous. Iron Man needs no shield. He's the shield himself. But then Steve Rogers looks at him and everything falls to pieces. Maybe he needs something after all.

After all, shields can't save him from falling. (Or do they?)

People can die of a broken heart. Steve Rogers is very aware of this, because that's what happened to his mother, except everybody named it differently. (They call it suicide. Later, after the funeral ends, he admits: he's not fond of that word. Too simple, too short, and too empty.)

Bucky always tells him not to put his heart on his sleeves.

"Some hearts are easier to break, and well, you know…," he trails off, but Steve knows.

He knows.

There's a war coming up. It's a lot easier to lose someone—to break your heart. But then Steve—sick little Steve—is just way too eager to get near the fire, and "It's okay," 'cause Bucky's as good as his brother, and brothers do these things for each other. Brothers do. That's why Bucky's a soldier now.

It's actually really weird, because people go to war for their lovers, not for their friends. But than, Bucky leans over to kiss him. Steve pulls away. They never mention it. It's a pretense, and it's shallow, but it still works.

Later, Steve regrets all this.

"Don't let go of my hand, Bucky," he whispers, "not now."

He dreams of a broken heart, but he just can't bring himself to it.

"Sleeves, Steve."

He hears ghosts instead. Maybe its not his heart that's broken.

Anthony Stark refuses to be called as Anthony. He very much prefers Tony. His therapist thinks it has something to do with is lack of self-esteem, and starts talking about his father.

"How was your relationship with him?"

"It doesn't matter," Tony deadpans, "he's dead."

He tells Pepper to fire the shrink. He hates people being right about him.

And that's why he hates Steve Rogers.

"People can die of a broken heart, Stark."

Steve's voice is so gentle and quiet that it makes Tony want to throw up. Tony Stark is already dying, with or without a broken heart.

"You're self destructive."

It's not a question. Steve's right. Tony's hurt. Maybe, he thinks, maybe flying off to fight the villains drunk was a bad idea after all. But the regret isn't from the fact that he's hurt; it comes from the fact that he ended up crashing into a building. People died. He's being furiously condemned. There's a trial coming up, and he will probably end up in jail. Iron Man who killed the citizens isn't Iron Man anymore.

Tony Stark's a pretender. He knows—knows—that he'll show up in a suit and sunglasses, cross his legs, and say all the right (wrong) things. But right now, he's in a hospital room. No juries. no people, no cameras. So he drops the mask.

"Have you ever—I mean, did you? Of a broken heart?"

Steve nods. Tony grabs him by the collar and kisses him.

Steve kisses him back.

This time, he kisses him back.