Steve never thought he would ever care for anyone again, after he woke up and everyone he loved was dead. Bucky, Peggy, Howard…all dead.
And after Tony talked him into moving into the newly-renamed Avengers Tower, (he only did it to get the billionaire off his back) he figured they'd all end up killing each other anyway. A bunch of volatile superheroes, all with major issues of one kind or another, all under one roof?
And then he wakes up from a sweat-inducing nightmare one night about a month after moving in. After stumbling to the movie room and collapsing on the couch, he finally falls asleep again.
Only to be awakened minutes later by shouting and Jarvis's cool instructions. Clint staggers into the room, holding Natasha up. "Help her," he begs desperately, to no one in particular, and they both fall into a crumpled pile on the floor.
Steve, nightmare and fatigue forgotten, jumps up and kneels next to them. Clint's face is bloody and bruised, and judging from the angle of his right wrist, it is broken very badly. Natasha's bleeding from her side, staining her black suit scarlet. She isn't even conscious, which tells Steve her injuries are very, very bad. Natasha never passes out. Never.
Bruce darts into the room, shirtless and mussed, followed seconds later by Tony. Rocking back on his heels, Steve lets them work, because he has no idea what to do for them.
And he realizes something, as the thought of losing them curls into an icy fist inside his stomach.
He had been wrong. He needs this dysfunctional group of superheroes, because they are his family and he loves them.