I was right. The shower was freezing by the time I got in it. My skin was still cold to the touch when I'd returned but it was nothing Steve didn't help me fix. Maybe not the way I suggested he do, but the next best thing. A neck massage.

We were watching Die Hard, after I'd convinced him it was a highly revered classic. It didn't actually take much convincing. Steve wasn't picky when it came to movies, usually happy to sit in front of any garbage I put on, which was good for me cause I was extremely picky over what I would actually sit through.

Steve was sitting on the couch, legs parted so I could sit between them on the floor. He was leaned forward as he worked out the knots in my shoulder.

"In no way do I mean this in an inappropriate way but it feels soooo good." I moaned as his warm fingers worked miracles. "Yup, right there."

"Thanks for the clarification" Steve let out a soft chuckle, "I would have been certain you were talking about something else."

"As if," I scoffed before another groaned escaped my lips "What would you know about sexual innuendos anyway Mr. uptight?"

"I'm not the one that's tight." He responded before pushing his palm more firmly into a sensitive spot in between my shoulder blades.

"Holy shit did you just say your first dirty joke? I'm so proud of you." I laughed through the pain. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"I'm learning from the best."

"That is true." I nodded in agreement before gasping, "Fuck." I jerked forward when Steve pressed on one point harder than before. I turned my back to glare at him. "You did that on purpose!"

The laughter in his eyes confirmed my suspicion, "It will teach you to be less arrogant." He shrugged.

"Arrogant?" I scoffed standing up and reaching for a cushion. "I'll show you arrogant, asshole."

I swung the pillow mercilessly in his direction as he held his arms up in defence.

We both broke off into laughter as a pillow fight ensued. He won but only after cheating.

Tickling, in my opinion, was an under the belt manoeuvre. He disagreed.

We were both out of breath by the time the movie had finished, the room black, the only illumination coming from the dark light of the television.

Steve was back to his usual sitting position, and I had my head rested on his lap, my legs stretched out on the couch. He absentmindedly twirled his fingers in my hair, his gaze on the blank screen, but his thoughts obviously elsewhere.

"Steve." My voice barely above a whisper, "What's going on with you?"

If there was ever a perfect time it would be now, while the darkness in the room felt like a blanket protecting us from the world.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, but I waited. Knowing how hard it was to build up the courage to spill your secrets.

If it took all night, I was happy to wait, and if it never happened I was okay with that too. That was the thing with pain. Everyone coped differently.

"It's Peggy." The words sounded like they were dragged from his lips, like he didn't want to say them out loud at all. The pain in his voice so unbearable I couldn't imagine the turmoil he felt inside.

My breath caught at the mention of her name and suddenly everything about last week made sense.

He didn't speak again for some time and I didn't blame him.

Peggy was his world.

The last reminder of who he once was.

She meant everything to him and my heart weighed heavily with the knowledge that something may have happened to her. It would destroy him.

She'd been the one constant in his life, the one thing he could grab a hold of when it felt like he was spinning in a world he had no control over. He'd talked about her many times in the past, how close they'd been, his friend, his would be lover. He visited her every weekend, sometimes more if time allowed. I'd accompanied him in the past. At first curious about the woman that held such reverie in his life. Telling myself at the time it wasn't jealousy.

But I'd understood right away why she held that position and my ego took a much needed blow.

Because she was an amazing woman.

I left that first meeting feeling conflicted. I mourned with them the time they lost. Part of me hating the thought of not having Steve in my life, the other part hating the chance they never got to have. Fate could be a fickle bitch sometimes.

"She's been diagnosed with cancer." At last he spoke again. The words making my stomach drop. "The doctors say she won't last another week without intervention but she's refusing to accept treatment."

He let out a bitter laugh shaking his head like he couldn't even comprehend the words. The hand not in my hair was fisted near his jaw, his knuckles white from clenching so tightly.

"I told her to fight this. Beat this." He continued and I knew how desperately he believed she could. How much he needed her to. "But she said she's spent her whole life fighting, she didn't want to die the same way."

The words seemed to break him and he leaned back letting out a groan of anguish, both hands now gripping his face. I knew with his yell, the way his whole body seemed to shudder that he'd only just accepted her decision, accepted that she would die and he would go on without her.

People held themselves differently. When you were willing to fight, there was a tenseness, a stubbornness. Something unyielding in every move.

What Steve was doing now was the posture of a defeated man. Someone with no enemy, his limbs and body giving up.

I knew this because I'd felt the same when Jarvis had passed. When I realized there was nothing for me to fight anymore.

At the start, I'd refused to see him in the hospital, convinced I could find a cure to his sickness. I refused up until the last day, when they'd told me it was the only chance I had left to say goodbye. I'd cried in the same defeated way, grabbing a hold of Jarvis on his death bed as he wrapped me in his arms. He passed not long after, the people around saying he'd only lasted as long as he had because he was waiting for me. Some part of me had always known. It was the reason I'd avoided the hospital like a plague. Because I hadn't been ready to let him go. I spent the rest of that day in a dreary haze, hoping grief would swallow me and take me with him.

I didn't have Steve back then and I hoped I'd be enough now to get him through. I hoped he wouldn't feel as helpless and alone as I had.

"Shhhh Steve." My voice was soft as I sat up, straddling his lap. I pulled him towards me, resting his head against me. Holding him tightly.

His hands released his head and he wrapped them around my waist. Squeezing.

"I can't do this." He choked out his hands clenching on the back of my night shirt.

I continued whispering. Told him he'd be okay, how sorry I was, how I'd always be here. I could feel his tears drip down my neck, as he continued to shake, letting out pained breaths.

It was late or early depending on how you looked at it, when he'd calmed enough. Exhaustion seemed to take over, which wasn't surprising. Grief was a bitch of a burden to carry.

"Come on." I whispered standing. I extended my hand to him and he took it looking confused. He stood up and followed me as I led him to my bedroom.

He sat on my bed and I began undoing his dress shirt. He made to stop my hand, his eyes questioning but I continued.

"Relax Steve, you're tired, I'm tired. We're just going to sleep."

He didn't resist after that and let me pull his shirt from him, his shoes and pants too. He sat in his boxers and undershirt. He really was half out of it. In normal circumstances he'd be blushing like crazy, maybe talking about how inappropriate this was.

I pulled the blankets back and told him, "Get in." He followed the orders saying nothing and we fell asleep facing each other, his fingers intertwined with mine.