Steve took the longest shower of his life, filling the entire bathroom with so much steam that he could barely see through it. He let the massaging showerhead beat the water down on his neck and shoulders, forcing the muscles to relax more than they had in weeks. If this was all he did for the day, that was okay. Steve let himself lose track of time, just soaking the feeling into his skin, trying to thaw the last bits of ice that never seemed to go away. If he concentrated, he could almost forget that feeling, but there was always a shiver waiting to break through.

Steve thought about the previous night with Tony, sitting silently next to each other. It was nice, just having someone there without pressuring you. Of course, Tony had said a few things at first that rankled his nerves, but he backed off when Steve made it clear he wasn't ready to pursue that line of thinking. And it wasn't that anything he said had been malicious. Steve truly believed after running through the conversation in his head multiple times during all those hours that Tony was honestly trying to help. He knew all of them were in their own ways, but it got overwhelming very quickly. Everyone had their own ideas on how to help him and he felt like he was being pulled in so many different directions. Maybe that was why Tony felt safest to turn to right now. Even though Tony'd been the one to hurt him, it was easier to talk to him, because he could spit venom and not worry about hurting someone who didn't deserve it. But he could also let himself be a bit more vulnerable, since Tony had seen him at his lowest and didn't turn him away.

These were the times he ached most for Bucky. Steve never had to censor himself around him. He could work through every thought in his mind without worrying about being judged. Bucky would laugh at him, sure, but it was never ill-intentioned. And he always knew what to do or say to help. Even if it was just a look and a pat on the shoulder, things just made sense when Bucky was around.

Steve thought those years they had been separated by war would be the toughest he'd have to deal with, but they paled in comparison to what he was living through now. There were no second chances for Bucky. He would've been able to deal with all of this way better than Steve was. Bucky knew how to talk to people and he was so achingly genuine. Steve never quite shrugged off that awkwardness he'd lived with when he was smaller.

But he knew how to put on a show. He put on a show for his mom when she was worrying herself into an early grave. He put on a show after he finally lost her, as if she didn't take the biggest piece of him into the ground with her. He honed his craft in front of the crowds, hitting every cue to inspire people to do what they could for their loved ones who were dying in droves on the battlefield. Steve pretended like he wasn't trying to convince people to give the last little bit of what they had to a war he wasn't even fighting.

But then he was fighting and he felt like he didn't have to pretend anymore. He was doing what he was made for and with people who respected him. With Bucky, who treated him the same as he always had. With a team who accepted him before they knew he was made in a lab and seemed to like him more during the down time when he wasn't doing a single thing for them.

And then Bucky died, and he broke. Then the ice came, and he froze. And as the years were ripped away from him, so was his ability to fake his way through life. Steve may have gotten away with it at first, because no one was really paying much attention and he tucked himself away. He did what he needed to do in the field and that was good enough. But now that people were actually paying attention to him, they saw through his paper thin facade like it was never even there.

So now he didn't have a choice but to be the real Steve, but who even was that anymore? How was he supposed to let people get to know him when he didn't even know himself? And if he really tried, really let himself relax and enjoy his life and this time he was in, would it be a betrayal to everyone he left behind? Knowing how Howard, who hadn't really been that close of a friend if he was being honest, had dedicated years of his life, to the point of emotionally neglecting his only child, to looking for him, it felt wrong to go on and live however he wanted. How did people move on?

Steve flipped off the water, trying to turn off that train of thought. This day wasn't about figuring everything out. All he needed to do was live in this day, not plan out his entire future. Steve stepped onto the cool tiles, feeling a little shiver force its way out. No, he didn't want to feel any cold today.

"Jarvis, can you heat the floor please?" Steve asked, moving back to stand on a bath mat. "And maybe turn up the heat on my floor?"

"Of course, sir," Jarvis answered. "Would you like me to monitor your vitals to keep the temperature at an optimal level for your biology?"

"Um, I guess that's fine," Steve responded hesitantly. "You'll stop though, if I ask you to?"

"You are in complete control," Jarvis intoned. "If I may make a suggestion, I think you might find something helpful through the door to your right." Steve looked over, staring at yet another door he'd never opened before. Even when he lived in the tower right after the battle, he didn't fully settle into this space. He used the bare minimum of what he needed. Maybe exploring his whole floor would be a good goal for the day?

Steve opened the door, only distantly worried that some kind of trick would jump out at him. The only thing he got hit with was a burst of heat. It was a tall cabinet, filled with towels and robes that were all somehow warm. He ran his fingers along the plush robe that was hanging on one side, immediately relishing in the pleasing temperature. Steve pulled it from the hanger, wrapping the soft cotton around his body. He grabbed a towel and tossed it over his head, casually rubbing at his wet hair. This felt good, not at all like after he'd taken a cold shower and forced himself to towel off slowly to let the cold sink into his bones like it was always eager to do.

He was so comfortable in this moment that all he wanted to do was sleep. Suddenly, that was all he could think of. It was actually painful, how tired he was. It was as if there was a cramp in his stomach that he couldn't quite get rid of. But he couldn't risk trying again. That last nightmare had been too much and another one like it so soon might ruin this tiny bit of progress he'd just made. But there wasn't much more that he wanted right now than to just curl up on the floor and sleep. If being back in his time ranked first, sleeping was a close second.

Steve needed to do something to keep his mind off of it, because he could feel himself starting to tear up at the idea. His hands were shaking as he tossed his towel aside and he shoved them into the pockets of his robe to try to still them. He'd been more tired when he was alone in his apartment, so why was it hitting him so hard right now? Maybe because back then he hadn't let himself feel anything and now he was being bombarded by emotions left and right. This normalcy thing was backfiring, because now that he let himself have some of it, he wanted all of it. He was tired of seeing every hour of every day.

"Captain Rogers, your heartbeat is rising to worrying levels. Would you like me to call someone?" Jarvis asked, speaking over the choking gasp sounds Steve hadn't realized he'd been making. Who would he call for this? Did he beg Tony back, after he'd spent the whole night with him already? Would Bruce think that was a bad idea? Should he even care what Bruce might think right now? He needed something.

"I don't know," Steve whimpered, shaking his head a little. What was the right move here? He didn't know. Had he ever known?

"I am only allowed to override your privacy settings in the event of a medical emergency. You have not fallen into those parameters yet," Jarvis informed him. At least his physical state wasn't that dire, but Jarvis couldn't see inside his mind. Steve was stuck there, standing like an idiot in the middle of the bathroom. He achieved his one goal, but it wasn't enough. And it was also too much. And nothing made sense. And he couldn't do anything.

"Tony," Steve whispered, closing his eyes in resignation. Steve wasn't sure how long it was before he heard the sounds of Tony's rushing footsteps. What even was time when you never got a break and didn't know when it would run out because your body gave up or you were thrust into another world?

"What's going on? What happened?" Tony breathed out, fluttering around Steve in panic.

"I'm stuck," Steve gasped, trying to clench his trembling jaw.

"Um, okay," Tony stammered, looking around the room for some sort of answer. Steve doubted it would be found behind another unopened door. "You accomplished your goal, right? You took your shower?"

"Yeah," Steve sniffed, "but what now?"

"Oh God, of course," Tony groaned, running a hand down his face. "When I did this, the whole rest of my day had been filled with things to do to distract me from what I was feeling. Now that you finished yours, you're like, adrift, for lack of a better word." Steve wanted to jump up and down and scream yes. Finally someone knew what he was feeling without having to say it out loud. He was lost again, but in his own mind, not out there alone in the ice.

"So what do I do?" Steve asked, pride be damned. His desperate ache for help was more important than any hits his ego might be taking right now. He only felt partially guilty putting this weight on Tony's shoulders, but he'd offered, right? And Steve had spent his whole life helping other people, so why not let himself accept some too?

"Okay, well there has been some stuff I was planning to do, but I've been putting it off because I didn't have anyone to help me. Would you want to? You'd be doing me a huge favor if you did," Tony suggested. Steve knew what Tony was doing and had an overwhelming urge to fall forward and hug him until he could breathe again.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve mumbled, nodding his head and feeling droplets of water fly all over.

"Well, first order of business is getting you dry and clothed, I think. Unless you want to stay in the robe, which is a valid option" Tony proposed.

"Maybe another sweater?" Steve said, staring down at Tony.

"Good choice," Tony beamed, walking back to the cabinet to grab a fresh towel. "Do you mind?"

"No," Steve mumbled. Tony grinned, reaching up to scrunch the towel through his hair.

"Forgive me if I sound creepy, but I've been dying to get my hands in this hair since I met you. Do you color it? Probably not," Tony babbled, squeezing the last bits of moisture from his hair. "Maybe I'll go blonde. Would that look good on me? Probably not. I'll stick with my dark hair thing I got going on with Bruce." Tony tossed the damp towel into the hamper when he was finished. He hooked elbows with him like he'd jokingly attempted the day before, but this time Steve let him.

Tony left him to put on his undergarments while he dashed down the hall to the closet of clothes. Steve mechanically dressed, not wanting to think about the last thing that happened in this room.

"So I brought options," Tony announced, breezing back into the room with multiple items of clothing draped over his arm. "We've got sweaters and a few different pant options. I wasn't sure if you wanted to stick with the corduroy or venture into more of a lounge type. And if you don't like these colors, we can swap."

"Thank you," Steve said, grabbing a bright blue sweater and pulling it over his head. It wasn't quite the same material as the one before, but it was incredibly soft. He found a pair of pants in the same material and quickly pulled those on as well.

"I thought you'd like the cashmere," Tony grinned, straightening out his sleeve. "You good to come up to my floor with me? Are you ready to get started on helping me with my to do list?" Steve nodded, following along after Tony as the man started talking about being on the phone before he came down here, but Steve wasn't sure what the call had been about. He just listened to the sound of Tony's voice and let it fill his head instead of his crippling thoughts.

Steve trailed Tony into his kitchen when they got to the floor, letting himself be perched on one of the stools surrounding the island. The robots must've done a good job, because there wasn't a hint of the mess that had been here the night before. Those last moments with the team had been so nice, just standing around without anyone at each other's throats. The way he'd always wanted it to be. The way he'd always been scared for it to be.

"First order of business," Tony declared, sliding a full glass of orange juice in his direction, "you're gonna help me on my quest to win back Pepper." Steve made a confused, garbley sound in the back of his throat, trying to figure out if he'd heard the man right.

"What?"

"Well, one of her many complaints, all that are completely justified by the way, is that I don't know how to take care of myself. She thinks I rely on others too much," Tony sighed, scraping his finger along the edge of the counter. "She's not really wrong about that. So I'm going to prove to her that I can, by learning how to cook. Pepper thinks my takeout habit is out of control, so I want to be able to make her some nice meals, if she ever decides to come back."

"You want me to teach you how to cook?" Steve asked, thinking back to his morning cooking for Bruce and how spectacularly bad that had gone. Not because of his food, but everything else.

"No, I don't want you to be the teacher, I want you to be the taster," Tony grinned, grabbing pans out of the cabinets. "Who better than to test my skills on someone who probably can't get food poisoning? And I know you'll be honest with me, because you'll want the best for Pepper. Clint and Natasha will just make jokes and I'm pretty sure Thor would eat roadkill with a smile, but you'll give it to me straight."

"What about Bruce?" Steve questioned, taking a drink of his juice. It tasted fresh.

"Bruce is a little gun shy after a situation with Clint and some undercooked chicken. I don't know all the details, but let's just say Bruce turned green without turning into the Hulk," Tony cringed, grabbing ingredients out of the fridge. "He hasn't eaten anything that wasn't made by professionals since." Steve felt a little flutter in his stomach, realizing that Bruce had eaten and enjoyed his food without any hesitation. He wasn't sure what to think about that, but it felt good.

Steve kept sipping at his juice, watching Tony bounce around the kitchen like he had no idea what he was doing. At least he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Steve watched as Tony had to fish a chunk of egg shell out of a bowl, then started growling when the toast started to burn. Although he didn't want Tony to fail at his goal, it was nice to see that he wasn't automatically perfect at everything.

"Maybe try things one at a time?" Steve suggested, leaning over to turn off a burner that was smoking. "Someone once gave me some advice like that. To not overwhelm yourself too quickly with too many goals."

"That person sounds very wise," Tony mumbled, dumping the ruined food into the trash. "I guess even if things don't work out the first time, you can always try again." Somehow Steve and Tony had gotten good at this vague talk thing, skirting around the issues but still hitting home at the point. Even if the baby steps thing hadn't worked well for Steve today, it didn't mean it wouldn't tomorrow.

Tony rummaged around in the fridge again, slapping down a package of bacon in triumph. He slid the slices onto a clean griddle, glaring at the food intently as if it would burn as soon as he looked away. Steve couldn't really picture Pepper eating bacon, but he wasn't going to say anything to Tony. He'd barely gotten to know the woman when he lived here before, since he spent most of his time on his floor and she was always darting around running the world. Steve hoped they'd be able to work out whatever was going on between them, since they seemed to care about each other. Steve knew what it was like to wait too long to make a move.

"Success!" Tony cheered, flipping the bacon onto a plate as soon as it was done. Tony dabbed at the slices carefully with a napkin, absorbing some of the excess grease. Steve smiled a little watching him, realizing after a few moments that he hadn't thought of his own issues for a couple minutes now. He hadn't thought about anything negative, just lived in the moment he was in.

"Thanks," Steve whispered after Tony nudged the plate closer to him. It wasn't just a thank you for the food. It was a thank you for distracting him. For helping him forget, even if it was just briefly. For helping him live. They munched on the food in silence for a few minutes, Steve humming in appreciation at the taste.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Tony exclaimed, jumping up and pushing aside some packages in the cupboard. He came back with a platter of the rolls from the Thanksgiving dinner. "These were all the ones I could save for us, but I can always order more if this isn't enough. Although, I'm kind of in the mood for a pizza night." Steve caught the roll Tony tossed over, spinning it in his hand. Now that his mind was getting clearer, his embarrassment was coming back.

"Hey Tony, I'm sorry for making you come back to my floor. I'm not really sure what happened, but I think I'm okay now," Steve said, breaking the bun into little pieces.

"While I'm glad to hear you're feeling better, I don't accept your apology," Tony scoffed, placing a hand near Steve's in an offer. "You don't know how much it means to me that you would ask me for help, even after everything." Steve moved his hand over a little, so just the edges of their fingers were touching.

"It shouldn't be your responsibility though," Steve sighed, staring down at their hands.

"After the battle, I wasn't doing too hot myself. Luckily Pepper was still here and she helped get me through it. You don't ever have to feel sorry about needing other people sometimes."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you. I didn't even know you were struggling."

"I don't think either of us were in the right place to help each other back then, but I think we can try now." Steve smiled, letting his fingers slide over Tony's a little bit further.

"I think I'd like that."