Author's Note:

Why yes, it is I, the author of the other story known as "It started Off As A Job." If you haven't read that story, you should, this isn't the sequel to that story, sadly, this is another story I made up in my creative head. I am still working on the sequel for that and I have a lot of creative things for it, but before I get to the sequel, I wanted to give you a brand new story to keep you occupied.

This story I would say, Steve in a sense might seem OOC, considering that he did wake up in a different timeline and of course I'm sure that since everything is different, who wouldn't be just a little bit depressed or feel lonely since nothing is the same. However, I will try not to make him TOO depressed, and try to find a healthy balance. Other than that I will be working on this story and making sure I work on the sequel as well.

Disclaimers: I do not own any of the marvel characters at all, they are all Marvel rights and I only own the creative process for this story.

Without further distraction, please enjoy the story!

Loneliness in itself is a weird word, or rather, it is a weird term, in a different sense. Loneliness means sadness because one has no friends or company, but that can't be right? He did have friends, and he had company, hell, he practically lived in a towerful of superheros. They ate breakfast together on occasions, the same with dinner, and all while stopping crime whenever it reared its ugly head. So why did he feel so alone?

Loneliness is funny, really, you can have friends and family, but there is this gnawing ache in your chest, a prick of pain nestled inside your heart, drawing in all feelings of happiness to make you feel as if you were alone the whole time. There are different forms of loneliness; one being the usual form of not having anybody at all, but he wouldn't classify that as being an introvert, since some consider the two to go hand-in-hand. Being an introvert doesn't mean you don't have any friends, it's just harder for you to make those connections with another person. There's also the loneliness he feels when you have people next to you, on a day to day basis, always asking how you are, what's on your mind, you relish in these moments you spend with them. But truthfully, you still feel the ache of not having anybody near you that makes you feel as if you are truly alone.

Maybe it started back when he was just a skinny kid in Brooklyn, equipt with Asthma, and a medical list so long telling him what was wrong with him, that this feeling of loneliness started. No, that can't be right either. He wasn't really alone back then; he had his mother, - bless her heart, she was a strong woman and he still remembered all the things she taught him and how hard she worked to make sure he had all the necessities in his life - he had his best friend Bucky, the guy who always saved him from getting his ass handed to him on multiple occasions just because he didn't like bullies, and he had the girl. Peggy Carter, was her name. A fine name for a fiery girl such as herself, but he lost all of them when he decided to put that plane in the water.

Maybe it started when he woke up in this new world he has yet to become acquainted with. Yes, maybe that sounds more realistic. Encased, or rather, as anybody else would put it, sleeping in ice for 70 years only to wake up in the future where everything was so… Different. The technology was more advanced, everything was so much bigger and brighter, it was all so confusing and so much to take in. He lost his best friends, lost the girl, lost everybody he ever knew back in the forties.

He sighed to himself and rested his cheek on his open palm, elbow on the table, staring at the coffee machine. He narrowed his eyes, as silly as it might seem, but he really wanted a nice hot cup of Joe, but for the life of him he couldn't quite grasp how to work the damn thing. It was too… Advanced, he would say, for someone like him. Everything was too advanced; the remotes, the TV, hell, even the disembodied voice he continued to hear each day still startled him. It was all too much for Steve, but what could he really do? He was stuck, in a not so delicate way of putting it, in this time period he couldn't quite adapt to. The only thing that really took the edge off of this feeling of loneliness, was that the music from the forties still existed. That, and the fact he still had his sketchbook to return to when the day proved to be too stressful. But life was never really easy in Stark Tower.

"Captain Rogers," he jumped as he heard the voice of JARVIS speak to him, "you have been glaring at the coffee machine for a solid ten minutes."

His face flushed with embarrassment, painting his cheeks a tint of red, clearing his throat before he spoke. "Uh… Yeah, sorry JARVIS. I uh… Want some coffee but I don't know how the machine works." He replied, embarrassment finding its way to affect his speech pattern.

"Would you like me to call in sir?"

"No! Ah… That won't be necessary. I'll just…" He removed himself from the table he was brewing at earlier, his feet finding themselves in front of the coffee machine again, eyes roving over the various buttons, mug in hand as he stared at the cursed device. He sighed heavily again, groaning in frustration at not understanding what half of these buttons do. It was so easy back then, to make coffee. You just put coffee ground into the top of the machine, add water, turn the coffee maker on, and in a few minutes you'd have a nice, hot cup of coffee, sitting there patiently for you to whisk it away and drink it to your heart's content. He doesn't know how long he's been mopping, because soon enough the owner of the tower was standing there with a smirk on his face, causing the Captain to scowl at him.

"You winning the staring contest with the coffee maker?" Tony quipped. Ah, yes, Tony Stark, someone who Steve wasn't exactly sure he had the pleasure, or the displeasure of meeting. After their initial bad blood on the helicarrier with the whole Loki incident, they cleared the air and came together as teammates, and possible friends? Steve wasn't sure, but he would like to think that they were considered friends.

"Earth to Steve." He blinked and turned his gaze on the genius, who chuckled as he looked at him. "Guess the coffee maker wins." He grabbed a mug from the top cabinets littered on the walls, placing the mug under the coffee machine, pressing his pointer finger on one button, and watching his cup fill with dark liquid. Steve swore his scowl deeped, and his suspicion was confirmed when he saw the genius look at him with a questioning gaze, one eyebrow raised. "Did you want to go first?"

"How do you do that?" Tony's face scrunched up in confusion, eyebrows lowered, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he looked at the super soldier.

"How do I do… What?"

"Make coffee. I don't… Know how to use the machine." A look of understanding crossed Tony's face. He took his mug out from under the machine once it was full to the brim with steaming hot liquid. He held out his hand, motioning for Steve to give him the mug. Hesitantly the blonde complied and handed his mug to the genius, who put the mug under the machine just like his earlier.

"So, fancy thing about this machine is that it knows just how everyone likes their coffee, but considering you've never learned to use the machine," Steve narrowed his eyes, "it has yet to register your order." Steve watched as Tony pushed several buttons, a lot more buttons than he had to press to get his order. He then noticed the genius motioning for him again, but he stood there with his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Give me your finger."

"What?" The word shot out of his mouth, quick as a bullet. The genius rolled his eyes.

"I'm not gonna do anything to your finger, if that's what you're worried about. I need you to let the machine scan your fingerprint so you can place the mug under the nozzle, let it scan your fingerprint, and make your coffee." He motioned for his finger again, and Steve held out his pointer finger to the genius. He placed the soldier's finger on the side of the machine, watching as a small blue light lit up under his finger tip, disappearing a few seconds later, and listening to the satisfying sound of liquid filling an empty mug.

"Here ya go, Cap." He took the mug Tony held out to him, one hand wrapping around the mug, bringing it to his lips, and enjoying the sweet sensation of steamy liquid scaling his tongue, creating a blazing trail as it travelled down his throat. He removed the cup from his lips, a ghost of a smile making its appearance on his face.

"Thanks, Tony." The genius smiled back at him, nodding his head and grabbing his mug from its place next to him. He chugged his own coffee down within a matter of minutes, earning himself another cup before starting to walk away from the area, most likely to finish up repairs on his Iron Man suit. The super soldier looked around and realized how empty it became once Tony left, and the small smile on his face, shortly turned into a frown. He looked down at the half-empty mug, dumping out the rest of the contents before setting the mug back into the shelf from once it came, after he washed it of course.

His feet led him to the couch where he promptly sat down, cloud like cushions controting to his body shape as he leaned back to relax.

"Well, at least that's one less thing to worry about." He thought to himself. Time seemed to tick away, but realistically, everything was moving too slow; which in itself was pretty funny, considering when he woke up here and got slightly adjusted to the way things were in the 21st century, he remembered saying things moved too fast. He located the remote on the table, resting there undisturbed, mocking him as he continued to stare at the cursed application.

"Not even going to bother."

"Bother with what?" A voice said behind him, causing him to jump a little bit in his seat. He turned around and spotted Natasha, standing there behind him, a crooked smile on her face. He swore it was hard to tell when she was being Black Widow and Natasha Romanoff, it was like the two were the same person, sneaky, stealthy, perfect posture and lack of emotion on their face. Although, with some credit to Natasha, the smile on her face was a small indication that he could tell when she was being Black Widow and herself.

She made her way over to take a seat next to him while he calmed down his rapidly beating heart, watching as she grabbed the remote and turned on the TV with ease. He let out a deep exhale of breath once he was calm enough, letting his head rest against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

"The TV's right in front of you, Steve." She remarked. He looked at her from his peripheral, noticing the way she continued to look at the TV as she spoke to him. He always took in the way that she seemed more laid back than usual, one foot tucked under her kneecap, elbow resting on the armrest of the couch, head gently resting in her open palm, it was an unusual, yet scary cool, to Natasha that still left mystery to this woman.

"Don't feel like watching." He replied, turning his attention back to the ceiling. There was this weird hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, the sort of feeling you get when you knew you had something, but felt like there was something missing behind it. He felt his jaw clench, his hands forming into fists, a deep sigh in anger exhaled through his nose. Just what was this feeling that left a bitter taste in his mouth, spoiled his attitude and turned it rotten. Was it the feeling of loneliness again? No, that can't be right. Natasha is sitting right next to him, although they may not be taking, at least he has company, right? Ugh, it was too confusing for him to figure out, and the more he thought about it, the more angry he got.

Without another word he stood up abruptly, making his way out of the living room area towards the elevator. He waited as patiently as he could before the elevator ringed and the doors opened. He stepped inside, pushing the button to his floor and waited patiently again for the elevator to bring him to his designated floor.

He ran into Bruce along the way, the shy Doctor saying his greetings to the super soldier, both exchanging small conversation before it turned into awkward silence. They parted ways, Steve finally reaching his room, closing the door behind him and heading over to his closet, pulling out a small book from the back corner. He sat on his bed, flipping to an empty page and letting the pencil dance across the wide expanse of paper, creating an image from memory. Each fine detail, each line was carved and engraved into the paper, his eyes following every motion his hand created, pulling back only when the picture was complete to admire his work. It was an image of the team, captured in the most perfect scenario he remembered.

It was from their team bonding exercise just a few short months after the whole Loki incident, popcorn scattered around the floor, soda cans standing tall on the table, smiles on their faces, hell, he could even still hear the laughter resonating from the picture. And then the wave of sadness came crashing down on him, full force, like a tidal wave submerging him in sand, leaving him treading water, reaching for the surface to take that life saving gasp of air. The more he stared at the picture, the more pain welled in his heart, pulling at the strings inside of the organ until he couldn't handle looking at the image anymore. They were his team; no, they were more than just a team, they were his family. But even they cannot replace everything he lost back in the forties.

"You seem most upset, Captain Rogers," JARVIS' disembodied voice breaking him out of his despair, "is there anything I can do for you?"

"No," he responded softly at first, clearing his throat and putting away the sketchbook between the headboard and the mattress before speaking again, louder this time, "no, JARVIS, I'm fine. I just… Need to clear my mind."

"If you insist, sir." He stood up from his bed and went back over to his closet, reaching and grabbing his duffel bag he used for the gym. He figured if he was going to clear his mind, the gym was the only place he knew where, and punching bags until they burst into sand from his super strength was the only way he knew how.

The sounds of leather being brutally assaulted by angry fists filled the expanse of the gym. Each time Steve came down here, it helped release the anger boiling up inside of him before it tipped over. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his hair was wet, droplets of sweat splashing off to the side in the air. He panted heavily, each strike to the bag suspended in the air by a mere chain, threatening to break any second under the strength of the super soldier. Each bag he broke, Tony always made stronger to stand up to the tremendous amount of pressure and force his punches held, but each bag met its untimely end, just like this one had suffered when Steve reeled his hand back, delivering a devastating punch to the bags core, unhinging it from it's chain, littering the gym floor with sand. He stared at the grains of sand, a sight he was used to seeing so often whenever he needed to let off some stress, but this time around the anger still coursed through him. He fell to his knees, placing his head in his hands, a shout of anger echoing across the room, leaving no corner untouched. Usually this was supposed to help, but it only hurt this time instead.

It was unfair to him, if he was brutally honest with himself. Everything he ever knew was lost in the history books, a bleak, fleeting moment of memories he can only recall, but never get back. It wasn't fair that he left everybody- no, it wasn't fair that everybody left him. This is where he realized the loneliness came from; it never originated from waking up in a brand new world, where everything was touched by time, technology so advanced he couldn't comprehend what the hell was going on. It originated from realizing that everybody he knew was gone. Peggy, Bucky, his mother, hell, even Howard was gone, and they only got to know each other for a few minutes before everything went to shit, but at least the man left an impression on him.

Now what did he have, if he had to ask himself. A job, stuck as a field agent, a borderline guinea pig for SHIELD to use whenever, anger, guilt, regret, heartache. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, desperately trying to stop the whirlwind of emotions fighting for control over his body. He thought of the good things he had. He had a team, who graciously made him their captain, he had a place to stay, once again surrounded by people who cared about each other and-

"Ugh…" He groaned, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. He stood up on shaky legs, walking over to his duffel bag, grabbing his towel and wiping the sweat from his face, drinking from his water bottle to suppress the weird sensation of bile that was trying to climb its way up and out of his mouth.

He made his way back to his room, peeling off his clothes in the bathroom and stepping inside the shower. He turned on the hot water, letting the scalding water pour down his tired form, washing away the agony that resided deep within his body.

It was the fact that he was frozen in ice for nearly seventy years that caused him to not only shudder at the mere thought of anything that reminded him of the cold, but he also preferred to take really hot showers to remind himself that he wasn't back in the ice, that this wasn't all a sick twisted nightmare and he was actually still encased in the ice. Although he doubts that would be the case, he still hated the cold.

He turns off the water and steps out of the shower, leaving his workout clothes on the bathroom floor to be picked up later. He traverses across his room, drying off his hair, small wisps of air hitting his bare skin. He noticed that moonlight was barely inching its way into his room, touching whatever inch of room the moonbeams could find. Just how much time has passed today? He pulls out a pair of boxers briefs, the only article of clothing he needed in the middle of the night for bed.

"Hey, Steve I-" He froze in place, head slowly turning towards the intruder standing in the doorway. He felt his face heat up, a deep blush of scarlet painting his cheeks, and he was hoping that it was dark enough for the other to not see how embarrassed he was. He was thankful that he was at least at an angle where the intruder couldn't see his front side, but sadly it gave the person a great view of his ass. He covered himself up and turned away from the door, too embarrassed to try and make any form of eye contact.

"Uh… Hey there, Spangles." Of course it had to be Tony coming into his room at this hour. If Steve had no idea where their relationship stood now, he was most certain that this would put a damper, or at least, make things awkward between them.

"Hey… Stark." He mentally kicked himself for his voice sounding so far, but can you really blame him? He was caught off guard, and seen in one of the most intimate ways that should be saved for someone you're willing to spend the rest of your life with. Not by the owner of the tower they're letting you stay in. It made his blush deepen, and right now he wishes he thought more about walking out of the bathroom completely naked.

"So, I was wondering if you…" He trailed off, his eyes maneuvering its way across the little bit of Steve's body he could see. He has to admit, the super soldier was fit; muscular chest, a hint of abs he could run his fingers up and down on, Steve was just breathing sex by just standing there.

"My eyes are up here!" He snarked, breaking Tony out of his ogling of the other's body.

"Right, my bad. But come on, you have to admit you have the body of an adonis. You literally breath sex and-"

"Tony!"

"Right, not the point." The blonde let out a huff of irritation and rolled his eyes, waiting for the genius to get to the point. "So, I was tinkering in my lab, upgrading everybody's shit, and after today I was thinking, 'hey, Capsicle doesn't seem to be happy. Wonder why?' So I thought you'd wanna hang out tomorrow?"

"Uh… Sure, Tony, I'd like that. Now can I please get dressed?"

"Sure, go for it." But the genius just stood there, unmoving, unwavering as he stared at Steve once again. The super soldier scowled at the brunette, waiting for him to take the hint to leave. Sadly, he continued to just stand there.

"You can go now, Tony."

"Oh, come on, Steve. I've already seen your ass, it's not gonna make a difference if I-"

"Get out!" He yelled.

"Alright, I'm going, Captain Angrypants." The genius rolled his eyes and proceeded to exit Steve's room, closing the door behind him. The blonde let out a relieved sigh, dropping the towel from around his waist and putting his boxer briefs on, climbing into bed shortly after. He closed his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep, but the night seemed to drag on slowly for him. Ironic, isn't it? Everything around him moves too fast, and now he's complaining about something moving too slow. He sighs in his sleep and squeezes his eyes tighter, willing himself to fall asleep.

He manages to get at least a few hours of sleep, quiet, peaceful, undisturbed sleep, but that can only last for so long. He moves around in his sleep, ruffling the sheets, whimpering to himself, squeezing the pillow close to him so incredibly tight, the feathers inside the pillow threaten to burst out from their confinement. He broke out into a sweat, the culprit of his actions were the nightmares that continued to haunt him through the middle of the night. It's no wonder why he chooses not to sleep sometimes, that, mixed in with the fact the serum more than makes up for the lack of food, water and sleep. It's hard for him to really relax in the middle of the night.

The air turns chilly, invisible wisps of air coiling around his body, tickling every inch of his skin. He shivers, body trembling as sweat continues to form, tiny whimpers turning into cries of agony, the air in the room feels thicker the more his eyes are closed. He can't breathe for a fraction of a second, oxygen foreign to him as he lays there gasping, clawing at an invisible force, wanting to be saved. His eyes snap open, and he notices that he's not the only one in the room. His scared, quivering blue eyes gander into concerned brown eyes, a hand on his shoulder the only form of skin to skin contact that is soothing to him. He feels like he can breathe again, but he feels paralyzed as he lays there.

"JARVIS said you were having a nightmare, a pretty bad one it looks like." He doesn't move, nor does he speak as the genius runs a hand over his damp forehead, fingers getting lost in his blonde locks. The touch makes his eyes flutter for a moment, a warm feeling courses through his vein at the sweet, comforting form of contact Tony gives him. He watches as the genius stands and says, "I'll be right back, I'm gonna go get you some water." His hand shoots out, quicker than lighting, halting the Iron Man from leaving his room.

"Please," he says, voice barely above a whisper, "please don't leave. Can't I just… Can I come into your lab and just… Sleep there?" It was a pleading gesture, and he mentally kicked himself for that. It was bad enough the loneliness continued to fester in his chest, brewing and bubbling something so wicked he felt as if he was losing his sensibility, his sanity, too. He scowled more at himself than anything, but it slowly disappeared from his face as he saw the small half smile on the geniuses face.

"Sure, the couch is always there if you ever need it." He motions with his head for him to follow, and like a well trained puppy, he follows. Tony opens the doors to his lab and leads Steve towards the couch, gesturing with his hand for him to lay down. With shaky feet, he walks across the cold ground towards his destination. He gently eases onto the couch, curling up onto his side, staring at the vast expanse of Tony's lab, taking in all the equipment he's tampered with and upgraded. His eyes start to close as he loses the strength to keep them open, fatigue taking over. He vaguely felt the presence of a blanket being placed on him as he drifted off into another attempt into peaceful slumber, only this time the nightmares didn't come.

He didn't stir, didn't whimper, didn't make so much as a peep. He slept quietly through the night, the only sound in his ears were the sound of JARVIS, Tony's bots, his tools, and the occasional swearing of said genius. It was… Weird for Steve, in a sense. It should've been hard for him to fall asleep, considering whenever he was around someone he always felt lonely. But it was… Different this time around. It felt weird that this time - this one simple time where he asked for company, he didn't feel alone.

He slept through the night happily, his body relaxed, mind at ease, and under the watchful, ever keen eye of Tony Stark.

Author's Note:

And that concludes the first chapter! Hope you liked it! I kinda like my writing in this one, it feels more relaxed and detailed, but I would like to hear what you think if any of you want to review. I accept any and all positive feedback and constructive criticism.

I'll be writing more for this story, as well as the sequel to "It started Off As A Job" so be on the lookout for that!

See you next time, bye!