He doesn't go to Peggy's. He doesn't want company, not even hers.

He wants to be alone with his thoughts.

He doesn't want that either.

He wants to go to sleep for a very long time.

Instead he just lies in bed and tries to sleep. Tries to close his eyes and erase everything. Tries not to think.

He hasn't felt like this in a long time. Since way before he and Tony got together. He's been okay, he's been better.

He wasn't lying to Tony, about having things to do. He just doesn't do them.

He would never let anyone down, of course. But when Lindsey texts to say that her roommate's friends took care of everything, but he's still more than welcome to come have dinner with them, he turns her down. She doesn't need him.

Nobody needs him.

He leaves his apartment to run, feet pounding the pavement, and he wonders if he came down hard enough if he could crack all the way through it. If he ran fast enough, could he outrun himself?

That's an completely overdramatic thought. He never used to think like that.

What's wrong with him?

He comes home and heats up some rice for dinner, slathers it in butter and enough mayonnaise to meet his calorie requirements, because he doesn't exactly feel like going out.

He doesn't call Tony. Tony calls him. He picks the phone up with a mouth full of rice, talking through the food. "Hey."

"Hey." Tony's voice is flat and even. Tony's never like that, he's always emotional in some way. "You said you'd call me."

"I was going to."

"Mhmm. Sure." He pauses. "I miss you."

"You can't miss me yet. Maybe tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's all booked up. I can pencil you in for 15 minutes from now if that makes any difference."

Steve smiles, thin. "Never figured you for codependence."

"Well, that's the least true thing you've ever said. Let's do something. I'm bored."

"You're not bored."

"What are you talking about? I'm always bored."

"I'm sure you think you're being clever."

"Generally, yes," Tony says. "It's less 'being clever' and more just 'clever.' Witty. Ingenius. The synonyms go on and on."

Steve sighs. "I know you're just trying to check up on me."

"And that's a bad thing? I told you, I miss you."

Steve shrugs.

"Babe?"

"Yeah, okay."

"C'mon, let's do something. My treat. I'll pick you up."

"No thanks."

"Something small. Like ice cream. Strip club. Your choice."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said no."

"And I overruled you. Pick something, or I'll pick for you."

"You can't overrule me."

"Can and did."

"I'm not some kid, okay? I can take care of myself. All I need you to do is get the hell off my back."

There's a long, painful silence on the line, and then Tony's voice, sounding all the more superior. "That was extremely uncalled for."

He doesn't say anything, just squirts some more mayonnaise on his rice. If he has to be depressed, if Tony's insisting on that, why can't he just do it alone?

"Okay, well, I'm gonna come pick you up, then, and you can decide what you want to do."

"I want you to leave me alone."

"And I don't want you to kill yourself while I'm asleep."

He hears that and the world, everything, just stops. His face grows hot, his blood pounding in his ears. Just the thought – he would never –

"Steve?"

"How could you – even think –" he can't finish it, can't really imagine finishing that sentence.

"Don't act like that's not a reasonable concern."

"It isn't," Steve says, feeling shaky and unstable, feeling like that's how Tony expects him to feel, like that's all he is now. "At all."

"With the information you've given me, which by the way is almost nothing, it is."

He closes his eyes and lets the feeling of hopelessness fall over him.

"Steve?"

"I would never, ever do that," he says, and his tone is too harsh and he doesn't care.

"Good," Tony says. "That's good."

"I shouldn't have to answer to your… paranoia."

"Okay," Tony says "Okay, fine, not suicidal, got it."

"I can't believe you'd even –"

"Well maybe if you'd fucking talked to me."

His jaw's clamped down hard, it's starting to hurt. He waits, but Tony doesn't say anything else. He's not even sure he's still there. "I'm going to sleep."

"It's eight "

"I'm old."

"Steve –"

"Tony."

"You're not making me any less worried."

"Because there's nothing to worry about."

"Great. Awesome. So you won't mind sleeping at my place tonight."

Steve hangs up.

But he picks up, when Tony calls him back seconds later. "Must have gone into a tunnel," he says, lips twisting into a little smile.

"I'm coming over."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because –" because he doesn't want him here. He doesn't want people to see him here. "Please don't."

There's a very, very long silence, and then Tony sighs.

And then there's silence, again.

"... Tony?"

He sighs again. "You promise you won't do anything?"

"I think I can manage," Steve says, voice about as tense as he feels.

"Okay." Tony pauses, like it's not really okay. Softens. "I love you."

Steve nods, forgetting for a moment that Tony can't see him. When he finally says "I love you too," he wonders if Tony's wondering, about that pause. He doesn't explain.

Tony backs off, for the weekend, and for two days Steve lives like it's only him in the world. He goes out on his motorcycle for hours and comes back when it's dark. He responds to Tony's texts within a couple hours of receiving them. There's only so many times he can insist that he's okay.

He wakes up on Monday and he's ready to put this all behind him. To be better like he's telling Tony he is.

He hasn't really given much thought to how this is going to go, this SHIELD thing. He shows up and it's just like old times, except this time after taking his clothes off he gets to put some on, and nobody's poking him with needles and he's not being asked to run on a treadmill for 12 hours.

He knows there's a certain security clearance required to be allowed to talk to him. He doesn't know what it is. He wonders if he has that clearance.

He's surprised, not overly, that Natasha's the one showing him around. Makes sense, given their history.

"Should've signed on as a field agent, Cap," she says, by way of greeting, tilting her head as she sizes him up. "Could use you out there."

He squares his shoulders. "Don't actually follow orders that well."

She smiles, with that little knowing shake of her head. "Then you'd fit in just fine."

Would he?

That's not worth dwelling on.

"America really needs me, I'll hear about it."

"Well," she says, with a little shrug that makes him think maybe she doesn't agree. "It's good to have you back."

The job is pretty simple. He's going to spend his days reading summarized reports on minor potential threats. All he's gotta do is develop an opinion and a strategy, present that strategy to a committee, and if it's approved it goes up the chain.

It's important, Natasha says. Not something they usually entrust to newbies. But then, Steve's special.

She walks him through the process and it makes him wonder who thought he couldn't hear this from someone he doesn't know.

It's not that she doesn't know what she's talking about. It's just that she has no reason to be involved in this. They're still treating him like he's got to be managed. Gotta be watched.

He's not surprised. He'd just hoped something would change.

"The reports are for your benefit," Natasha says. "They're thorough, impartial, and there's a review process. But you can access any raw data you want with your login. Surveillance photos, search histories, e-mail correspondence, phone logs, you name it we've got it."

Steve swallows. He's all too aware.

"But to be honest, they're really only useful for identifying threats."

"Identifying?"

"Of course," Natasha says. "By the time it gets to you there's not much you should need to look up."

"I see," Steve says.

This isn't new information. Is it? He knew they had access to communications. But, maybe he'd just convinced himself it was justified, in some way. That they only looked at them after they knew something was suspicious.

Why had he thought that?

How do you justify spying on everyone, in the hopes of catching a few wrongdoers?

"Thank you," he says.

Natasha looks up. "I wasn't quite done."

"I can figure it out," he says. "I'll ask someone if I have trouble."

He doesn't have to ask anyone where Fury's office is. He knows that one by heart.

He waits patiently for Fury to see him, running through what he's going to say. What Fury's going to say. He's said it all before

Doesn't mean it doesn't bear repeating.

"I won't be a part of this," he says, the minute he walks in, not even waiting for Fury to look up.

Fury's raises his head, slow and calm, and then he raises his eyebrow.

Clearly, Steve's being asked to explain himself. He doesn't.

Fury stares him down, impassive, for probably a minute. And then he seems to decide he's done waiting. "You have a problem with how I run things."

"Yes."

"The world doesn't live up to your standards, Captain. We need to stay one step ahead."

"So we work harder," he says. That doesn't justify invasions of privacy.

Fury smiles. "We. Work. Harder. What a concept."

Steve tightens his jaw. "I didn't say it would be easy."

"Or possible," Fury says. "The world isn't how you left it, Captain. Things move much faster these days. It is imperative that we keep up."

"There's gotta be a better way."

"Perhaps there is. But I'm not willing to stand by and lose men and whatever advantage we do have."

Steve doesn't respond.

"What did you think had changed from the last time we talked, Captain?"

"I –"

"If you'll excuse me, I have much better things to do than tell you things you already know."

"Sir, if you just –"

"I'm done here, Captain. That means you are as well. If you've got any more gripes, feel free to direct them to your immediate superiors."

Steve bites the inside of his cheek so the anger won't show on his face.

"Oh, and Rogers? If you really want to leave, you're more than welcome to. You're an asset, certainly, but don't think for a second that we can't get by without you."

Steve slams the door on his way out.

He has dinner at Tony's. Spends a few minutes venting but it's clear that Tony doesn't care.

"And that was… surprising? You really had no idea?"

"Of course I had an idea. That doesn't make it right."

Tony frowns down at his food. "Well, I'm just trying to understand what you thought would happen."

"Does that matter?"

"A little bit, yeah. I mean you were completely, totally aware of all of this when you agreed to take the job, so I'm just not sure why I have to hear about it."

Of course he wouldn't understand. "Forget it."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Okay."

He should have known better than to give Tony another reason to judge him.

"I should go," he says, but it's weak. He doesn't mean it. He wants to stay.

Tony just rolls his eyes, an easy grin settling over his face. " if you run off every time we argue about something this isn't going to work out at all. I'm sorry, forgive me, sleepover?"

"Sleepover?"

"Yeah, you know, we can talk about boys and paint our nails and when you go to sleep I'll put your hand in a glass of warm water so you wet the bed?"

"That sounds mildly unpleasant."

Tony smirks. "Did you have something better in mind?"

"Uh, movie?"

Tony shrugs. "Sounds about right."

He can't sleep.

Even with Tony snuggled up against him he can't sleep.

He just lays there. Trying to focus on the long, slow intake of breath. On the long slow exhale. Tries to relax his muscles until he can spontaneously slip into sleep.

He's been sleeping too much, maybe.

Tony slips out from under his arm at one point, and so he rolls onto his back, and looks up at the ceiling, and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And realizes that wherever Tony went, it wasn't the bathroom.

He should just go to sleep.

Tony's down in his workshop, and as usual he's a little startled to see Steve, and he frowns at him with his eyes but just with his eyes. "Give up on sleeping?'

"You're one to talk."

"I had work to do."

"I would have left."

"Great," Tony says, with a little smile. "So you get why I couldn't tell you."

"That's –"

"Oh, come on. You're sleeping, I'm sleeping, what does it hurt if I'm not sleeping? You're welcome to stay. Here, I mean."

Steve doesn't answer. He just joins Tony behind the screens, sliding his arms around Tony's chest. Tony should sleep, but… his is definitely better than sleeping.

He looks at one the diagrams Tony's got up. Some weird variation on the Iron Man suit. Like someone asked him to do a radical redesign. The colors are different, the texture, the surface, the shape. He's branching out. It's odd.

"Can I help?"

"Help?"

"With that suit design."

"There's nothing wrong with the design."

"Mm," Steve hums, looking it over. "Not too much."

"There is nothing wrong with my design."

Steve just smiles, holding him tighter, watching as Tony fiddles with something on the screen.

"Okay, fine, just tell me," Tony says. "It's gonna bug me all night if you don't."

"Nothing big," Steve says. "It's just, see these lines here? I'm not sure the perspective works. And assuming you're the one wearing this, I think you might want to rework the hips."

"What's wrong with the hips? They're completely normal hips."

Steve smiles. "Exactly."

"Are you saying I don't have normal hips?"

"I dunno,' he says, running a hand over one of them. "Do you have normal hips?"

"Yes of course I do. You're thinking of my ass."

"Oh," Steve grins. "My bad."

"It's very sexy," Tony adds.

"Very sexy," Steve says. "Not gonna fit in that suit, though."

"Whatever. Jarvis'll fit it to my body."

"Shouldn't that be the first step?"

"I was trying something new," Tony says. "I mean, probably won't even make the suit. Just a little side project."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, kinda wasteful. Lots of work to do."

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, fine," Tony grins. "Go redesign the suit."

He winds up on the couch, drifting off as Tony works. He wants to stay awake. He really does. It's just that it's late turning into early morning, and he's tired, and there's something soothing about listening to Tony work.

"No, Dummy, don't do that. Go bother Steve."

He reaches up sleepily, patting the cold metal. "Don't bother Steve."

He's not sure how that works, Dummy being a robot and all, but it does.

He wakes up still on the couch, with Tony sleeping on top of him. He thinks that should be uncomfortable but it's not, and he smiles, sleepily, wrapping his arms and legs around him, and falls back to sleep.

He wakes up again, looks at his watch, and nearly jumps off of the couch.

Tony opens his eyes sleepily, licks his lip. "Hey, watch it," he says, voice low and gravelly. "I'm sleeping here."

"I have to get ready."

"Call in." Tony rubs his face sleepily against Steve's chest. "Tell them you quit."

"I'm not quitting."

"I," Tony says, pausing to yawn, "will pay you a billion dollars to quit."

"Tony –"

"See, it's just I'd rather be sleeping on a bed that isn't trying to get up."

"Can I use your shower?"

"If you can do it from here."

"Please?"

"Yes, fuck, of course. You don't have to ask."

"Will you get up?"

"Uhnnn."

"Tony."

Tony squirms a little. "Mhmm?"

He smiles, pressing his lips to Tony's head. "I'm getting up now."

"A billion dollars. Think about it."

"Don't make me carry you upstairs with me."

"Ugh, I'm up, I'm up." He stands up slowly, rubbing his eyes. "Go. I would hate for you to miss one second with your new friends."

Steve frowns.

Tony rolls his eyes. "Wow, lighten up," he says, giving him a quick kiss. "Go shower, I'll go make you a piece of bread or something."

"Okay."

Tony hesitates a second. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just running late."

"No," Tony says, this sad, soft look on his face, this look that Steve can't stand. Never wanted to see again. "I mean –"

"Yes," Steve says, a hard edge in his voice that wasn't there a second ago.

He's fine.