The first nightmare was vivd and unexpected. Steve awoke coated in a unpleasantly cool layer of sweat. Electricity was sparking through his nerves and he sat up and clenched his fists. As soon as his limbs ceased shaking, he pulled himself out of bed. His toes curled into the carpet as the room spun around him slightly. When he felt steady enough to walk, he slipped out of his bedroom and made his way down the dimly lit hallway to the bathroom. He was relieved to see that it was unoccupied. He closed the door behind him and splashed cold water on his face. It did nothing to expel the haunting images that still lingered behind his eyelids. He lifted the shirt from his head frustratedly and stepped out of his sweat pants. He ripped the clear shower curtain open and turned the water on. At first it was chilled, but soon the bathroom was filled with a fog of steam. Steve removed the rest of his clothes and stepped in. He stood for a moment with his eyes closed and just let the water run over him.

The war's over Cap, he told himself, you're in a completely new world.

But he couldn't ignore the underlying feeling of loneliness that came with living in this new world.

x~x~x~x~x

Tony was drunk. He knew that he shouldn't be. Somehow everyone thought that he would make an appropriate leader for this rogue band of super heroes. Truthfully, he could barely take charge of his own life. Not that he'd ever admit it. He was wandering aimlessly about the mansion as he often did when he felt there was nothing to do. He had no idea what time it was. Although, it had to be pretty late since the basement laboratory had been empty. He had noticed that Bruce would hang out down there until the wee hours sometimes. It wasn't that Bruce couldn't sleep (no on nights like that Bruce often hordes half of the mansion's coffee supply). It was just that once he got going on something, he had to finish it.

He didn't know how he wound up in front of the door to his bedroom. He figured his body was trying to convince his mind that it was time for bed. Right now, his mind couldn't agree more. He heard the faint sound of the shower coming from the bathroom down the hall. He lingered a bit. Could be Natasha,he reasoned, I've got a 1 in 6 chance. Wait. No. I don't count. 1 in 5 chance. Good enough for me.

He made his way over to the bathroom door and quietly tried the handle. He expected it to be locked. He was pleasantly mistaken. He opened the door a crack and peered in. He had a perfect vantage point and secretly gloated about his choice in shower curtains. He could vaguely make out the figure behind it. Spying on the unsuspecting bather was difficult seeing as how his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eyes a bit and he immediately realized that the figure behind the curtain was not Natasha.

His eyes grazed across the broad shoulders and cascaded down the unbelievably muscular body of none other than Steve Rogers. Wow.

Tony couldn't bring himself to close the door. His eyes could not be torn from Steve's incredible physique. There was a not-so-unpleasant lurch in his stomach and he finally brought himself to shut the door. It should have been an instantaneous reaction. Open the bathroom door. See another man showering. Close bathroom door.

I need to stop drinking. Tony lumbered back to his room feeling confused and juvenile (Peeping was a little childish. Even for him.) He didn't bother to change his clothes. He simply crumpled up into a little ball on his bed and closed his eyes. Sleep didn't come as instantly as he hoped.

He rolled over, the feeling in his stomach had migrated to his chest. It felt a lot like heart burn. He blinked a few times before clenching his eyes shut. A sudden burst of ice shot through his veins and he shivered a bit. He tried to climb under his comforter but he didn't have full control of his limbs so he ended up becoming entwined in a knot of sheets and blankets.

He suddenly imagined what it would be like if Steve were there. Steve probably gave off more heat than a furnace.

My own personal furnace, Tony thought with a slight grin of satisfaction. What?he suddenly caught himself.

No more alcohol before bed, he decided and finally drifted off.

x~x~x~x~x

Steve awoke the next morning with an uncomfortable amount of energy. Maybe I should shower every night before bed, he thought. He stretched his back muscles which always managed to get tight while he slept. He got dressed and made his way down to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat. The only Avenger that was up this early was Natasha. She sat at the kitchen counter sipping coffee and reading the paper. She looked up, nodded once to acknowledge his presence, and went back to reading. Steve helped himself to a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter next to the sink. They sipped their beverages in silence. The only sound was of Natasha flipping through the paper. She skimmed the headlines idly and enjoyed judging them on how accurate they were compared to her inside information. Sadly, they never compared.

"Are you visiting the gym again before lunch?" Steve asked uncertainly. He didn't mind silences, but Natasha made him nervous. Women in general tended to make him nervous. He could save female civilians from danger without a problem, but when it came to sitting down and talking to a woman, Steven Rogers didn't have a clue.

Natasha shrugged without looking up from her reading.

He shouldn't have expected conversation from a woman who dedicated her life to secrecy. Thankfully Thor and Clint entered the room chatting noisily about Thor's adventures in Asguard. "And that was the tale of my first visit to Jotunheim!"

"Fascinating," Clint replied. "What's for breakfast?"

Steve looked around the bare marble counter tops and shrugged.

"I could prepare us a feast!" Thor declared. "I will need the following ingredients: twenty eggs, two barrels of flour-"

"Let's just go to the diner around the corner," Clint suggested with a laugh.

"A grand idea, Archer!" Thor said sounding excited. "Shall you be accompanying us, Soldier?"

"I'm not that hungry," Steve lied. He could have eaten the entire team whole and still have room for seconds. He just didn't want to leave the mansion. Every time he left he would notice something new and he would be forced to remember 'the old days'. The outside world was a terminal reminder that he was an antique.

"Tasha?" Clint extended a two syllable invitation to her.

"No thank you," she replied simply, turning another page.

"Well…it's just you and me big guy," Clint said slightly crestfallen. The two left the room and once again Steve was left with Natasha.

"Why didn't you want to go?" he asked quietly. He suddenly needed something to do with his hands so he fixed himself another cup of coffee.

"Thor's loud. I like to spend my mornings reading the paper in peace."

Steve grimaced. He contemplated leaving the room at Natasha's not so subtle request. Then Tony walked in draped in a robe and looking like hell. "Good morning, all," he proclaimed drowsily.

"What happened to you?" Natasha asked. She had finally torn herself from the daily news.

"I woke up," Tony replied. He made his way over to the coffee maker. He fumbled around in the cabinet above the coffee maker. "Did someone use my mug?"

"Your mug?" Natasha asked raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, the one that I had custom made…says Mr. Stark on i-" he turned and his eyes locked on the mug in Steve's hands.

Steve looked down and immediately set the mug on the counter and spewed a sloppy apology. "I'm so sorry! I had no idea that it was your mug! If I had known I wouldn't have used it!"

Natasha was viewing from her vantage point at the counter. She braced herself to jump in and break the two up. She knew how possessive Stark could get over his things. To her surprise Tony just shook his head and said, "Don't sweat it, Rogers" and used a different mug.

Tony didn't know what had come over himself. He should have thrown a little Billionaire-Playboy-Philanthropist tantrum over Steve using his favorite mug. He preoccupied himself with rummaging through the cupboards but he was secretly eyeing Natasha out of the corner of his eye. She was attractive. There was no doubt about it. He had thought about her body on many occasions (usually it wasn't clothed and it was pressed up against his). He then watched Steve out of the corner of his eye. Steve was a well-built man with a handsome face.

But I wouldn't fantasize about him, Tony thought. Then he remembered the incident last night. Oh. Steve Rogers was beginning to have an unusual effect on him, and he couldn't quite figure it out. Like everything else he couldn't quite figure out, he had the urge to pursue it until he could figure it out