Steve made sure to walk noisily down the steps of the stairs to Howard's lab. It was something he had trained himself to do since they had gotten Howard back from that horrible place.
He shuddered at the memory of all the blood. There had been so much of it, splattered across every surface and words written with blood on the wall by the inmates. He could remember starkly all the broken people they had seen. His grip on his shield tightened painfully.
The image of Howard crouching, snarling and covered in blood and guts, with a knife in one hand and a gun in the other was clearest in his mind. Four dead men had been lying at his feet. Wounds had covered his body. The skin had been stripped from his left shoulder, the flash under it had been pink and gleaming and bleeding sluggishly. Howard had cried when he had seen Steve, knife and gun slipping from suddenly slack fingers
Steve stepped into Howard's sanctuary, his lab, and froze. Slowly he raised his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.
"It's me, Howard. It's Steve." he said and kept his voice calm, as harmless as his body-posture.
The screwdriver was lowered a bit and then clattered to the table as the tool slipped from his hand and Howard placed both of his hands on the tabletop, just breathed with his head hanging between raised shoulders. Defensive and embarrassed.
His whole body was trembling.
"I know who you are, Steve." Howard murmured. His voice was blank.
Steve carefully moved closer without replying. He had learned the hard way not to startle Howard. Thankfully the stab wound had healed over by now.
Steve let his gaze roam over Howard, assessing the state he was in. There were good days and bad days.
The burn on Howard's forearm had healed, leaving a ragged scar.
The paleness of his skin and the absence of two of his fingers were stark against the surface of the table.
"Howard, do you want to come upstairs?" Steve touched Howard's shoulder and pressed along his back. Maybe they could sit at the pool. The sun was out today and the darkness of the lab felt oppressing to Steve.
Howard leaned into him and sighed.
"No."
"Do you want me to leave?" Steve asked and pressed a quick peck to Howard's shoulder through the fabric of his shirt.
"No." Howard turned his head and pressed the side of his face against Steve's, something he rarely did. He was not a man of open affection.
"Okay." Steve said and moved over to the couch Howard sometimes slept on when the openness of the house was too much and only his lab with the heavy steel enforced door made him feel safe.
Steve sunk down in the leather cushions and made himself comfortable. On the low table beside the couch was the book he had left there the other time. He flipped to the page he had left of and began to read.
Steve made sure to keep his shield visible. That made Howard feel safer as well.