Once they escaped on the Quinjet, silence lingered and filled the space. The air was thick with disbelief that the events of the past few days have actually taken place.
Steve remained up front, piloting the vehicle, unsure of the final destination. He tried listening to the crashing waves beneath the jet, but the static sounds did nothing for him. He stared ahead, reminding himself that he did the right thing. The tap on his shoulder nearly startled him.
He looked up at T'Challa who signaled for him to get up. He'd take over piloting for now. Steve nodded and moved.
He walked away from the pilot area. For a second, he thought of Bucky, wanting to check in on him again, but the man was asleep and Steve didn't want to disturb him. He surveyed the rest of his rescued crew. They all look like they've been through hell. Shit, he'd need to figure out what they did to Wanda.
His focus settled in on Sam Wilson. For a moment, his own heart beat filled the silence.
Sam looked up, catching Steve's eye. He gave Steve that smile. That one that lifts Steve's spirits. That one made the two years they've known each other feel like eternity.
Steve walked over to Sam, leaned against the wall, and slowly sat down next to him. For all the time Sam spent in the air, he remained Steve's rock. Neither of them said a word. Sam reached out, placing his hand on Steve's.
Quietly, Steve rested his head on Sam's shoulder, nestling into the crook. He listened to the steady beat of Sam's heart. He closed his eyes, focusing only on the rhythm. Despite the tiredness and aches that seeped into his bones, he felt at home now.
"Love you," Sam said softly. The gentle words like a kiss on Steve's scrapes and bruises.
Steve pressed his lips against Sam's neck in response and returned the kiss.