Dean had told Steve he was going to show him how to properly handle a machete when chop off a vampire's head with it. Steve just hadn't thought it would be so-tactual; not that he was complaining all that much. It was just a bit unexpected, but not that unwelcome.

Dean instructed "Keep your elbows in, and make sure to lead with them. At the last second flick your wrists slightly. Two hands has more stability, but you might be strong enough for one hand. Remember, always cut at at a slight angle. Gotta use the sweet spot if and make sure to get the entire head off. Don't want any Nearly Headless Nicks."

Steve listened attentively to Dean's lessons, but it was a little more difficult when he would feel Dean's fingers squeeze his upper arm lightly, or how his hands would stay a little longer than necessary when he aligned his hands correctly. Dean's hand brushed his lower back and he put his hands on Steve's hips to get his legs into place like it was no big deal, "You have to swing your whole arm down to increase momentum. You have to let gravity help you out, and make sure you have a steady stance because it won't end well if you lose your footing when vampires at coming at you from all directions. You probably already know you need to be on your toes."

Steve nodded, "Alright, I think I got it."

"The last thing we need is for you to throw out your arm. Fighting vamps off one handed is possible but not an ideal situation especially for a newb." Dean's hands moved to rest at his waist after going back up to his shoulders, " Remember to bring your shoulder down so the momentum of your core whips your arm and the machete around-"Dean's gruff voice seemed to lower slightly and he spoke a little softer, "-to generate added thrust."

The man was trying his damn well hardest to make Steve blush. Dean liked to tease like how Tony would pick on him just to be friendly. Dean was being very, very friendly. Tony was a natural flirt who flirted with anyone, not to make them uncomfortable, but because that as his way of dealing with people. People weren't machines and Tony as still figuring out how to work with them. Steve thought Dean just might be actually flirting with him. He didn't want to just go around assuming things, but Dean was putting across some very clear messages. He was probably just messing with Steve. Yeah, that had to be it.

Steve turned his head around to look at Dean who was wearing a smirk, "Dean, I think I've got it all covered. I'll watch your back, let you lead, not get myself killed. I'll be fine. You don't have to be so worried."

Dean took the machete from Steve's hands and casually walked away like he hasn't been touching Steve near constantly, and standing close enough to him where Steve could feel his breathe, "I'm going to be worried because I'm taking a probie out on a hunt. Hell, I nearly gave myself a coronary when my dad took me and Sam out on Sam's first hunt. Just-do what I tell you to do, please. I really don't want you getting hurt."

Steve smiled, "I'll be careful, Dean. I promise."

Steve really should've known better.

He should've known that even though Dean had fussed over him and didn't want Steve getting hurt. He should've known that, like a concerning majority of his friends, Dean had very little sense of self preservation.

The man was worried about Steve getting hurt! He should be worried about himself.

Anyone who met Dean could probably see he was a soldier, but seeing him in an actual fight was something else. He moved so quickly, gracefully, and Steve would've lost track of him in the dark if Dean hadn't stayed so close because he moved almost silently. Steve had seen some damn fine soldiers throughout the war, but Dean seemed more than a soldier, not a exactly a spy but something more-pure. Steve had to try and watch himself so he didn't end up with fangs in his arms watching Dean instead of actually paying 'd ended up with a bullet in his shoulder after trying to keep watch over two many of his men in the field, although he had been more looking out for them then making eyes at them while doing so

One after another, vampires fell when Dean kept swinging with a clean cut that never seemed to miss. Steve had managed to take out one in the same manner, and the on his second try he cut too close to the collar, and had to try and hack the head off a second time. He could feel adrenaline coursing through him, the rush he got when going into the field, but he wasn't all that afraid. Sure, vampires were new but aliens had been too until he woke up in the future.

Steve had actually managed to take out three vampires while Dean took out the other seven before Steve could get a chance. Dean had been extremely impressed when Steve had thrown his machete and sliced the vampire's head off, but the only reason Steve did it was because it seemed so natural to do so with his shield when he thought a vampire had been getting too close to Dean. He hadn't had his shield, only a machete, so it happened on instinct and by some miracle actually worked.

Being a super soldier who fought in the second world war, got unfrozen seventy years later only to be put into another fight with aliens, a guy called Loki wielding a scepter that could control minds, a physicist that turned giant, green, and incredibly strong with a knack for smashing, and a secret spy agency that dealt with it all, monsters such as vampires, werewolves, and wraiths weren't that far of a stretch. After all that, Steve was more open to believing the strange was normal in some circles. It made a lot more sense of why Dean had given him his phone number incase anything weird happened when they first met; even though he had just texted him for kicks anyway.

Dean had told him as much as he could about monsters, ghosts, demons, angels, and pagan gods as they drove to get quesadillas and drove to the place the vampires were. After they 'ganked', as Dean would say, the vampires they had sat in the Impala and Dean had told him a little about his life and how he had gotten into hunting. He told him about how his mother had been killed by a demon, how his father spent his life hunting it down raising him and Sam like soldiers. Steve tried to not let his horror show when Dean told him about his first kill when he was only six years old; all to protect his younger brother. Dean told him how years ago Sam's girlfriend had been killed by the same demon, they were back together on the road, and eventually Dean was able to kill the demon. He didn't go into detail about his life after that, telling a few hunting tales, but not going into his experiences. It was understandable. Steve could see the pain and loss that would flash on Dean's face whenever he accidentally said certain names or he supposed a memory from that year. Dean had said it had been one nightmare after another. Steve didn't doubt it in the slightest, so he didn't push. He didn't need to know everything, especially the things that would just make Dean hurt simply by remembering them.

Steve understood why Dean kept the monster thing a secret from him, and any normal person wouldn't have believed it having not seen it firsthand. Everyone had their secrets, but it really didn't give Steve much solace about his own. Even if Dean believed him, even if he didn't laugh in Steve's face, even if the consequences of telling him weren't so terrible and the outcome didn't look all that swell Steve couldn't tell him. He was bound by a confidentiality agreement until Tony and Shield organized some party to introduce him to the public. Steve didn't know when that would be, and he hated to think of which would be worse telling Dean or not telling Dean and having him mad at him for not telling him.

Friends told each other important things like being Captain America.

Another problem that arose was whether or not he should notify Shield or the Avengers of the existence of monsters, demons, and ghosts. They could already know, but no one had debriefed him on it. It would also be a bit more difficult without proof. Bruce and Tony, being scientists, were believers in fact and something couldn't be proven a fact without tangible evidence; even with everything crazy like aliens and hibernating in ice for seventy years. Steve just didn't know what to do.

Laying down on the motel bed after him and Dean had gone their separate ways driving himself crazy thinking about it wasn't getting him anywhere. He needed advice. He just had to be cryptic about it.

The phone wasn't picked up until after the third ring, and it was JARVIS who answered, "Good morning, Captain. I'm sorry, Captain Rogers, but Sir is occupied at the moment due to being underneath a 4000 pound vehicle and is quite enthralled in his work. Perhaps I could be of assistance to you?"

Steve said, "JARVIS, do you have friends?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, that was a bit rude. Good morning, JARVIS. I just well I need some advice."

JARVIS replied, "I will do my best to assist you then, Captain. Now why did you inquire if I have friends?"

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, I think I've made a friend, but I'm a bit conflicted about certain things. They've told me some very important secrets and I just feel conflicted about my own. I'm also a bit scared of what they might feel when they find out."

"I would consider many, such as Sir, in the Stark household as family in certain respects, although DUM-E can be a bit of a nuisance at times he is in some ways my brother. As for friends, I believe I do have a few select friends." JARVIS asked, "The secrets you're referring to being born around the time of the first world war and being Captain America, correct? Well, if this friend trusted you with important secrets usually one would share there own in turn, but your case is a bit different. I'm sure Sir would tell you to simply do it no matter what confidential Shield documents say, but your situation is certainly a difficult one. If this person is truly your friend then they should be able to understand why you kept your silence about your place with the Avengers and it wouldn't affect their view of you in the slightest, no matter how stubborn, they should come around if they're truly a friend. I hope that could provide you with some consolation to your endeavors."

Steve nodded, " That was very helpful, thank you JARVIS."

Now there was only a matter of whether or not to tell Shield about monsters assuming they didn't already know. Thor, Loki, Odin were all real, but they might think of Steve as some religious fanatic if he went to them spouting off about angels. The problems never seemed to end.

JARVIS asked, "Is there anything else on your mind, Captain Rogers?"

"Nothing much." Steve sighed, "Unless you count the fact monsters are actually real and out and about killing people as something on my mind."

JARVIS replied, "I believe further input is needed before I can offer an assistance. I apologize for not fully understanding what you're implying."

"Monsters is what exactly I'm implying: ghosts, demons, witches, changelings, and everything in between. Even angels are real even though they aren't all so benevolent, but pretty powerful. All real and I'm not sure how I'll go about telling the Avengers or Shield or if I even should do so. It's not really being confidential if I don't think they'd believe it, right? I just feel some regret like how not telling my friend I'm Captain America."

The other end of the line remained silent for a moment before JARVIS answered Steve, "Although I refrain from doing so when Sir does not allow me to do so for him there's nothing stopping me from contacting a medical professional who you could perhaps consult with. Then again, you have never given me any implication of being mentally unstable and I've quite enjoyed your phonecalls and your mental state is perhaps even a bit more solid than that of Sir's. Could you please provide more data to support this case for me?"

Steve said, "Don't ship me off to Danvers just yet. You can look into anything you want to right? Well, I'm sure you'd be able to look into certain murders, crimes and the like that couldn't possibly be committed by a regular human or animal. Some that defy scientific explanation. I know Tony's not in any way religious so he would probably hold some bias unless I dropped a angel right into his lap. The only reason I'm so sure these things are real is because I dealt with some vampires, and seen it for myself."

JARVIS stated, "I'm flattered you do not underestimate my abilities, Captain, and just so you are aware, Danvers State Mental Hospital was closed in 1992 and apartment complexes stand in it's former place. I myself possess no bias and if I am able to find information that supports this then I'm inclined to trust your word. Also, there are some accredited mental institutions in New York and a very good hospital for adult psychiatry in Boston. If you'll give me a moment to compile information you may ponder what institution might appeal to you while you wait."

Steve chuckled, "Will do, JARVIS. Take your time."

"I only required a moment, Captain. You must have realized my ability to collect information surpasses that of any human or programing." JARVIS said, " I must say this is quite-intriguing would be the best word for it if not troublesome being suffice. The percentile for you telling the truth is very high and the percentile for science not being able to explain such anomalies is also above half percentile. Now, you're correct in your assumption that Sir can be a bit stubborn in such cases perhaps less than he has been in the past, but taking into account of what I know of human behavior I am unsure if they would believe you without tangible evidence, although you are a trustworthy man. I think it would be best to simply not speak of such occurrences to the other Avengers unless being directly asked of the existence of such things. The statistics of that happening are low. I would like to assist you in any way I can with this since you have entrusted me with this information."

Steve grinned, "Thank you, JARVIS. Well, I know how you are about Tony's wellbeing, so I have some ways the tower can be protected better from any unnatural forces and I'll be sure to compile trustworthy and accurate data for you on what you need to know. I'm still learning myself too, but it's nice to have someone in this with me."

"Thank you, Captain. I would appreciate it and since there are many contradicting or differing folklore on things such as cryptozoology, demonology, and the like any information that has been proven accurate would be very useful. We should continue such research at a later date. Sir is vehemently wishing to speak with you now that he is no longer occupied. I have not notified him of what our conversation composed of in detail and shall not until he comes to the conclusion himself. Good day, Captain Rogers."

Steve replied, "You too, JARVIS."

Tony shouted, "Steve! My one of a kind, worth more than some countries, most advanced in the world, AI is not some advice hotline!"

JARVIS joked, "But Sir I'm awaiting another call from fifteen year old Alison in Ohio."

"You are not! See, Captain Spandex, this is what you've created. I'm starting to think you like JARVIS more than you like me. Yep, that's it you and JARVIS are plotting against me aren't you? I never wouldn't expected Father Time to try and comenderie my AI; fucktrains at Shield probably, Fury most likely, Natasha possibly, but not you Steve. Wanted to throw me off didn't you? I'm not falling for it!"

Steve said, "No, we're not cahoots against you. I was initialing trying to call you, but you were busy, and I like speaking to JARVIS."

"Because you like him more than me."

"No, Tony."

"Wait, you said you were trying to call me first? What about? You check out the museum I told you to?"

"I haven't even gotten to Illinois yet first of all. And I was just asking for some advice about friends and Shield."

Tony said, "I'm like worth twenty friends, and Shield's by majority a bunch of assmonkeys. Clint's not-well he is a assmonkey, but a semi-tolerant assmonkey. Natasha's not an assmonkey because I feel her ninja senses would tingle and she'd just know I said something like that even though I'm pretty sure she's somewhere in South America right now. All great advice from, Tony Stark. You're welcome, Cap."

Steve replied sarcastically, "Great advice, Tony. What would I do without your impeccable wisdom."

Tony huffed, "I see Sassy Steve is rearing his perfectly combed blond head."

Steve said, "Don't work yourself too hard, and eat something if Miss. Potts, Dr. Banner, or DUM-E haven't already made you."

"You know you can just say Pepper or Brucie-bear." Tony asked, "Why'd you say DUM-E would feed me and not JARVIS?"

"DUM-E has a body and JARVIS doesn't, so he can only do so much and can't shove a sandwich into your hand."

"DUM-E can't make a sandwich either. The best he can do is mediocre toast and smoothies that could kill me on occasion."

"Sir, I believe you've hurt DUM-E's feelings." JARVIS stated.

"Shit, DUM-E not don't be like that. DUM-E, no don't touch that!" Tony warned, " Damn it, DUM-E you can't actually try to cook you'll end up setting yourself on fire somehow! NO, NOT THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER! Gotta go, Cap. DUM-E! "

"Bye, Tony. Talk to you later, JARVIS. Thanks again for your help."

JARVIS replied, "It was of no trouble, Captain. Again, good day."

The call disconnected and Steve sat his phone down on the bed. Dean had sent him a number of reliable books on lore for him to read, but what he wanted was a more hands on experience. He knew how to shoot and basic stuff, but there was so much to learn; so many different techniques, strategies, and information. Steve knew it was dangerous work, but his life from the moment he said yes to , had been packed to the brim with danger. Talking to JARVIS and even Tony to the small degree had settled his mind a little, but there was nagging feeling in the back of his head that wouldn't go away.

Maybe a run would clear his head.

By all accounts Steve didn't necessarily need to run to keep in top condition. He was already in top condition and it didn't wane no matter what he ate or how much exercise he got. It was something to do, and it got rid of the excess energy he was prone to building up, but as far as fitness went it really wasn't all that necessary. Still, back before the serum it had been something he couldn't do without igniting an asthma attack so now Steve went on runs as part of his usual schedule.

Smaller towns usually had some interesting backroads and old abandoned places that looked neat. Steve had only been chased by a dog once and geese twice. He always stayed away from places with no trespassing signs since he knew Fury would be more than angry if he found out Steve had been arrested, but when he passed an old farm house to hear a large crash and yelling he couldn't simply stand by. Without Bucky there to tell him what a bad idea it was Steve just went for it. The door wasn't even locked and he had knocked first; it wasn't like he didn't have any manners.

The house really looked abandoned and fairly old, but Steve knew what he heard. A stray cat could have caused the crash he heard, but super hearing had it's advantages and he knew very well cats didn't yell like men. It just looked like no one had occupied the house in at least forty years, but it could've been a homeless man using the house and he got injured or something. There were come displaced knick knacks and some mismatched furniture that had seen better days, but nothing supporting that anyone at all was using the residence.

It was a warm sunny day outside the house, but inside Steve felt a chill go down his spine and when he opened his mouth he could see his breath. He wasn't all that fond of the cold for obvious reasons. His hands itched to do something; anything. Steve felt like he was in danger, but he didn't hear anyone or see anything dangerous. If Steve had blinked he would've missed it, but there was no way his eyes were playing tricks on him.

The man had looked muted somehow; drained of the brightness people tend to have. He wasn't anyone Steve had ever seen and the furious look on his face filled Steve with dread. The man was standing not far from him one moment, and then he was gone the next; vanished not walked out the room. He just disappeared.

The man had looked to be wearing a 1942 combat uniform.

Steve sprinted out of the house not even touching the front steps as he jumped off the porch. Having never dealt with what Steve assumed to be a ghost he decided to call in a professional. Dean picked up the phone on the first ring, "Kevin, don't you fucking dare unpause the game! I swear to Cas I'll kick your scrawny ass. Hey, Steve what's up? Shut up, Sammy!"

Steve wiped away the nervous sweat he hadn't realized had dripped down his neck, "Am I interrupting something?"

Dean chuckled, "Not much aside from me kicking everyone's ass at Mario Kart. Why what's up?"

"I might have um- accidentally found a ghost."

"You accidentally found a ghost?"

"Yes, that's what I said."

Dean swore, "Son of a bitch, Rogers. I leave you alone and the next thing you do is go and find yourself a fucking case."

Steve argued, "It was completely by accident. I had thought someone was in trouble and well it turned out to be a ghost. I didn't go looking for it. I just happened upon it."
Dean's voice was a little more muffled, probably because he was holding the phone away from his mouth, as he spoke on the other end of the line, "Sammy, Steve just accidentally happened to come across a case. How many times have we accidentally came across a case without even looking for one? Too damn many and now Steve's got our luck."

Dean said to Steve, "You're in Iowa, right? Just sit tight and I'll be there as soon as I can. What did I tell you works against a ghost?"

"Iron and rock salt." Steve replied, "You salt and burn and bones to put a ghost to rest usually, right?"

"Good job. Don't do anything I would do. I'll see you soon."

"See ya, Dean."

Steve took one last glance at the house, put his phone into his pocket, and jogged a mile down the road before he realized he was still smiling. He had been worried about Shield. worried about his Captain America issues, worried about the team. slightly unsettled by seeing a ghost and here he was smiling. He thought it was at the prospect of seeing Dean again, but it was probably because he was getting the opportunity to go on another hunt. There wasn't much need for Steve to lie to himself really. Seeing Dean always did make his day just a little better.

Dean brought Chinese food.

Steve opened the door to a grinning Dean with boxes of take-out in his hands and they got to researching. Dean rambled on about his day, Sam, and who Kevin and Charlie were. Steve listened as he tried to figure out the past residents of the house and if any men who had served in the war had died in the home. Dean would get bored easily, but he tried to pretend like he didn't. Steve thought it was because Dean was trying to be the big bad resourceful hunter, but Dean didn't need to prove him anything. He knew how smart he was, and he'd seen Dean in action, but it was funny seeing Dean trying so hard.

They had already eaten all he chow mein and orange chicken and they couldn't find any online record of a world war 2 soldier residing in the home. All documents from the library in town were computerized, and although Steve was a bit slow with the computer Dean wasn't. They should've found something by now.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, "Maybe the guy was a relative or boyfriend or something of who had ever lived there. Maybe we can find some funeral newspaper clipping or something. Who lived in the house in the 40's again?"

Steve said, "A Miss. Dottie Riley with her father Ronald Riley who served in the Great war but was injured in combat."

Dean asked, "You sure the ghost was wearing a WW2 uniform?"

Steve had worn one himself at a time.

"Very sure."

Dean's fingers flew over the keyboard with his brow furrowed in concentration, "Alright, let's see if the papers have anything on Dottie-oh hell yeah."

Steve tried to peer at the computer screen, "What?"

"There's a newspaper article with a picture of Dottie Riley, the grieving girlfriend of a Leon Elis Everett who was killed overseas. Old Leon must've stayed with his girl after he kicked it and now haunts the joint. It says here Leon was buried-oh great. He has a memorial plaque, but there wasn't a body to bury. That's just great."
Steve replied, "Well, it wasn't uncommon. Some GI's never made it back home to their girls or family usually got a flag and dog tags."

Dean jumped up, "That's it!"

Steve raised a brow, "Are you planning on explaining what 'it' is or-"

Dean said, "The guy has got to be tied to his dog tags. Sometimes ghosts anchor themselves to an object; a lock of hair, a treasured heirloom, something like that. If the girl got the dog tags then they might still be in the house. We just have to find the dog tags, salt and burn them, and then the case is over and done with."

"What if they aren't there?"

Dean replied, "Leon's gotta be tied to something. It's our best bet. If you see the fucker pump him full of rock salt."

"So we split up in the house and look for the dogtags and whoever finds them burns them?" Steve asked.

"Yep. Don't die."

Steve chuckled, "Good advice."

Dean loaded up his sawed off shotgun, "Always is."

Dean made a couple cracks about the ramshackle house, and seemed more at ease while checking out the house than he had been facing the vampires. Steve assumed it was because he wasn't trying as hard to impress him, and he seemed like the type of guy to joke to lighten the mood. It made Steve a little sick when he thought about how he had reprimanded Tony for it during the Chitauri invasion. Sure, he'd been angry, horrified, disgusted, distraught from finding himself in the future when almost everyone he had known was probably already dead and he never got the chance to live his life. Tony had just been being Tony, continuing on and coping with jokes, he'd known a few of the best soldiers had done the same thing, and he shouldn't have taken out his irritation on Tony.

Now, with the Avengers and Dean as his friends and still having a purpose as an Avenger, Captain America, his place with them and now this new thing involving hunting with Dean he felt a bit more-secure. Since he left the ice, after the initial confusion and devastation, sometimes he felt like he wasn't real, like none of it was real, or that it would all slip away from him. Sometimes he went to sleep not knowing if he'd wake up or if everything he knew would be gone once he did. He had nightmares from the war and from going under the ice, dreams about losing the people he had come to care for. It still wasn't easy to be totally calm whenever Steve got so much as slightly chilled, but he was managing.

He felt more stable. He didn't feel so much like he was slipping away anymore. The anger simmered a little, it still hurt when he thought about what he lost, and the horror and disgusts faded as he tried to assimilate and look at the positives. It wasn't perfect, but better, and better was good.

"Alright, I'm gonna go check upstairs. You search downstairs and if you see the ghost-shoot." Dean patted Steve's shoulder, "Yell if you find the dog tags. Be careful."

Steve nodded, "Got it."

Frankly, Steve would've assumed the girl would've taken her fella's dog tags if she moved, but there was always the possibility she could've died in the home then moved on. The entire house had dropped a few degrees from the outside as soon as they walked into it, but Dean didn't seem bothered by it so Steve tried not to be. He had learned about cold spots involving ghosts, but it was different in practice when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and goosebumps covered his arms all because a ghost was nearby.

Leon Everett had been one of many to die in the war. Many men didn't write their loved ones until they were shipped out just incase they lost their nerve. It was their duty, and most didn't look too kindly on draft dodgers, Steve believed in what they'd been fighting for but so many people had died. All while he had tried to enter the army over five times, but was rejected because of his health. Leon deserved to rest.

Steve moved some of the leftover furniture looking for the soldier's dog tags, but kept the sawed off Dean leant him close. It felt like Steve was being watched, but it must be normal; as normal as a haunted house could get. He tried to ignore the jittery feeling in his stomach, but he probably should've listened to it.

Steve was slammed back against the wall and the shotgun flew across the room. Freezing cold hands gripped around his throat, so he couldn't even yell for Dean. In front of him was the ghost with a look of absolute fury on his face. Steve tried prying the hands off his throat, but it was no use.

The ghost of Leon Everett spat at him, "You're alive! You shouldn't be alive! Why did we all die, and you got to live!" He scoffed, " Captain fucking America. Because you're some super soldier, hmm?"

The ghost's hands kept squeezing harder and harder against his throat, and Steve knew it wasn't going to let go. Leon was angry. Dean had told him that every spirit turns vengeful after a while and that it's better for them to move on. Dean didn't know Steve had practically offered himself for vengeance on a silver platter; another soldier of his time had died all while he lived looking the same as he had before. The ghosts probably didn't even care to stop Dean. He just wanted someone to give all his anger to; like Captain America.

Steve choked out, "DE-E-AN!"

It was no use. Dean wouldn't be able to hear it even if he was standing on the stairs.

The ghost smirked at his struggling, but the smile slid off his face and his eyes widened in realization. He let Steve fall to the floor and didn't bother when Steve fell to his knees gasping and coughing. Leon's eyes went towards upstairs, but before he could do anything the apparition seemed to go up in flames.

Dean shouted but Steve barely noticed him, "Hey Steve, I found the dog tags and their burning right now. It's weird how Leon didn't show, usually ghosts put up some kind of fight. You okay?"

"You're alive! You shouldn't be alive! Why did we all die, and you got to live!"

"Captain fucking America. Because you're some super soldier, hmm?"

"Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?"

I'll show you how. Just be there."

Hell, no! The little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I'm following him

Steve rubbed one hand over his throat as he tried to think with what seemed to be the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Guilt.

Shouldn't be alive.

You got to live.

Shouldn't be alive.

Dean's hands tentatively touched Steve's arms, "Jesus, I'm sorry, Steve. The ghost is gone now, okay. Those bruises are rough. Are you hurt anywhere else? I didn't think the ghost would go for you, but it must've known you were here before. Must've brought up some bad stuff for you, huh? Don't worry happens to the best of us. Come on, Steve, look at me."

Steve swallowed to try to get rid of the lump in his throat to meet Dean's eyes. Dean smiled, "Good, do those bruises hurt a lot? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Steve shook his head.

"Just shook up, huh? Well at least it wasn't from ghost who died in Iraq or Afghanistan."

Dean didn't know Steve had fought in World War 2.

Steve was surprised when Dean pulled him into a hug, but rested his head against Dean's shoulder anyway. The leathery smell of his jacket was nice and his hair.

"Your hair smells like strawberries."
Dean chuckled but his arms were still comfortably wrapped around Steve, "I let Sam go shopping for shampoo. I prefer this tea tree stuff, but Sammy loves fruity stuff."

Steve sighed, "I'm sorry for-well that."

Dean patted Steve's back as he pulled away and slid against the wall to sit next to Steve. Steve thought Dean seemed reluctant, maybe even as reluctant as he had been for Dean to let go. He still sat close enough for their legs to touch, "Got nothin' to be sorry for. Hell, I'm just glad you didn't throw any punches. Steve, you've probably seen some things. I know I have. It sticks with you, and sometimes it just gets to be too much. You don't have to apologize for something like that, and well, you don't have to-you don't have to deal with all by yourself. I'm pretty much the king of shitty ways of dealing with things, but I'm trying to do better. When I was about your age I would've told someone I didn't do chick flick moments if they told me what I'm telling you, but uh-I'm here, so…"

Steve said, "Thanks, Dean, I get it I do, but I can't believe you actually said 'When I was your age' also I don't know what you mean by chick flick."

Dean bumped his shoulder against Steve's, "Don't worry about it. You wanna go to an Sundae bar or something?"

Steve replied, "I don't think drinking will help and it's the middle of the day."

Dean said, "I mean an ice cream bar. You know, making ice cream sundaes like there's a bar where you put all kinds of toppings on top." Dean rubbed the back of his neck, " I just thought you know ice cream would be nice. I know it won't make everything okay, but uh well it might make you feel a little better."

Steve smiled, "That'd be swell. Ice cream sounds nice."

Dean dusted his jeans off when he stood up. Steve took Dean's hand when he extended it to help him up, and Dean didn't even comment about how sweaty his hands were. Dean didn't let go of his hand until they were out of the house and back to the Impala.

I really didn't think anyone would be interested in this ship that somehow ended up being important to me. This was a pretty long chapter, and I'm excited for the next one. I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading. Pomegranate Girl, great dedication for finding this on both and Ao3.