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1. tony.
Once Tony learns that Steve loves to draw, they end up designing things together in Tony’s lab. Or rather, Tony rambles about shapes and sizes and movements while Steve sketches. Good teamwork and all that, Steve says, seeing how each other’s minds crafted and designed. They’re actually in sync, which surprises Tony, because he’s never liked working with others, especially with someone so different than him. He wonders briefly if this was a typical scene with Steve and Tony’s father. Probably, but he prefers to leave that in the past.
Plus, Tony learns that Steve does indeed have a decent sense of humor. He tolerates Tony’s babbling and even joins in sometimes. He smiles. He laughs.
He also likes to sit right next to Tony. Close. Almost shoulders touching close. Which was...kind of weird at first, but he’s become accustomed to it now.
“Anyway, Pep was telling me about these eggs in China. They actually cook them in boys’ urine. Think they prevent heat stroke and promote blood circulation or something.”
“Gross. So they’re...number one?”
“Seriously? Seriously, Cap? That’s a terrible joke. That is just terrible.”
Steve grins. “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.”
“Hey, I would have gotten to it.”
“Mm. Should this right edge be sharper?”
Tony glances over. “Maybe a little. Would probably help the turning radius.”
Steve nods, adjusting his sketch.
“Those eggs might be better than Rocky Mountain oysters.”
“What are those?”
“Bull testicles.”
Steve makes a face. “Why do you and Pepper even have these conversations? Bit of a turnoff, wouldn’t you say?”
“Aw,” Tony waggles his eyebrows, “are you concerned about our sex life?”
“Gross.”
“Why are you using the same word to describe urine and sex?”
“Ew.”
“Shut up and draw, all right? Make it all pretty, like you.”
Steve smiles, and they drift into comfortable silence. Which is not at all Tony’s usual working environment, but he’s grown a little fond of it with Steve. (Alone, he still prefers loud music and arguing with JARVIS, but it’s nice to have a change of pace sometimes.) He hums very slightly under his breath, pulling up holograms, until a dead weight suddenly rests against his side. Tony jumps a little. “Cap?”
Steve’s head is on Tony’s shoulder, and he is completely asleep, breathing softly against Tony’s neck. His sketchbook slides off his lap and clatters to the floor.
“Ah. Okay, Cap, this is - interesting. Am I really that boring today? I don’t think I’m that comfortable as a pillow, my shoulders are all bony. It’s a flaw, I’m working on it. You want to lay down? Hey?”
Steve doesn’t move in the slightest, his lips slightly parted as he breathes. Damn, Tony forgets how young he is. Fucking cute, too.
“Fine,” Tony sighs. “Fine. You sleep there, and I’ll sit here. Take your time.”
Still, he finds his hand rubbing between Steve’s shoulder blades as he carefully reaches out for a book.
2. clint.
After a rough day, Clint likes watching Planet Earth. He doesn’t give a fuck who knows - even though nobody teases him about it, anyway. They all have their...thing.
He’s on the jungle episode when Steve slinks in, having carefully avoided anything related to the ocean.
“Yo. Did you know that jungles account for 3% of land, but are home to over half of the world's species? Bet you didn’t.”
“Not a big surprise,” Steve says, settling in on the couch. “All the insects. I think there are a million different species, or something.”
Clint glares at him, because Clint didn’t know that. Well, he knew there was a fuck ton, but not a number. “Everyone knows that.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m making that up,” Steve says. “But it sounds right.”
Of course.
Clint sits cross-legged, leaning back so his head rests on the top of the couch. “Shut up. I’m trying to learn about fungi.”
“Gross,” Steve says to himself with a laugh, but Clint’s missing the joke.
It must have been a rougher day than Clint thought, because he ends up drifting off. Which he never, ever likes to do without guaranteed protection, but his body supposedly believes it’s okay to do so when Steve is there. He wakes to see that the DVD has moved from jungles to forests, and he’s fucking hot. He definitely wasn’t this hot before he fell asleep.
Turns out the heat is coming from Steve, who is pressed against Clint, his fingers wrapped loosely around Clint’s wrist. Clint sits, bemused; he carefully looks down, and Steve is still awake, albeit barely, blinking slowly. All right...so Clint can’t write this off as Steve accidentally falling asleep against him. Steve lightly taps his wrist, as if he’s grounding himself. Clint pauses; he’s pretty sure that he might be the last person anyone should seek out for comfort.
Although it’s kind of - nice. Nice in the sense that he doesn’t like it at all, naturally. Not at all.
If he closes his eyes and leans his head against Steve’s, it’s only because he’s that tired.
3. natasha.
Natasha loves sparring with Steve. He doesn’t placate her or treat her like she’s weak, like other men have done. To him, she’s an equal, and they fight and scrabble and tear at one another without hesitation. It can be five minutes, thirty, an hour, and it doesn’t matter. Today, Steve gets her on a good flip, and he releases her with a smile.
“Fine, I suppose you’re slightly stronger than me. But only slightly.”
Steve laughs, and he crawls over, resting his head on her calf. Natasha tugs on his sweaty hair. She might not be thought of as tactile, but she has to admit she enjoys it sometimes. She likes when someone she trusts (all right, a friend) also trusts her enough to let their guard down in front of her. “You need a shower, babe.”
“You’re not exactly roses and sunshine either, you know.”
Natasha lets her fingers trail to his ear. “I always smell nice.”
“Sure,” Steve says, patting her foot. “Lovely.”
“I’m hungry,” Natasha says, and Steve lifts his head off her leg. “Food?”
“Food,” Steve agrees, and once they’ve both showered, they head off to eat brunch.
Natasha hates the couples that sit on the same side of the booth (she needs to be able to look people in the eye), but she doesn’t say anything when Steve slides in next to her. Granted, he does so with some hesitation, but Natasha scoots over, giving him the affirmative.
“So,” Natasha says, lifting his arm and wrapping it around her shoulders, sliding her fingers through his. “Pancakes?”
4. thor.
Thor prides himself on efficiency, as do the rest of the Avengers. Though they may do so in different ways, they’ve learned how to use each method and when to use it. He has never worked with such a group before, misfits with an agenda, as he has heard from a few individuals. They may have said it with some disdain, but he embraces that title. He’s fond of his group. He cares about his group. He is growing to love his group.
Today’s mission is almost entirely successful; destruction was kept to a minimum (with Hulk managing a quick left turn to avoid the Chrysler Building) and they have defeated their enemies. Thor, however, was enraged when Steve shielded Thor from an enemy Thor could have easily beaten on his own. Thor is slow to injure, but humans are not. Which is what Steve is, regardless of how he is perceived by his peers.
Which is why it’s maddening to see comrades injured on his behalf. Especially when he sees his leader’s blood spilling over the pavement.
Steve presses his hand against the wound on his thigh, managing a smile at Thor.
“I’m fine,” he says. “It’ll heal.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Thor says, a little surprised by the heat in his voice. “As a warrior, you must be healthy enough to lead. There is no weakness in seeking aid when it is required. Ignoring such injuries weakens not only yourself, but the team.”
Perhaps it is harsh, but using the team against Steve is the only way he will relinquish control and allow himself to be taken care of. Thor will never hold back on such a tactic, especially with a leader as stubborn as his. Thor goes to pick him up and is surprised when Steve doesn’t try to squirm away. Instead, he leans in, resting his head against Thor’s shoulder. Tony, Natasha, and Clint give a slightly surprised look, but it fades quickly. Thor himself is also astonished by how easy this is, but he is careful not to show it, lest Steve sees and changes his mind.
Hulk steps in front of Thor. “I carry Cap.”
Thor shakes his head. He does not fear Hulk. “I have him.”
Hulk’s lip curls. “I carry -”
“It’s okay,” Steve says, not moving. “It’s fine, big guy.”
Hulk bares his teeth at Thor, but acquiesces.
Steve, of course, refuses to go to medical, but he does allow Natasha and Clint to sew him up. Tony watches for a moment, biting his cheek before he leaves, saying that he’s allergic to blood, but everyone knows he hates watching injured teammates as they’re patched up. They had already managed to help Bruce to his room so he may sleep, as his transformations are exhausting, but Thor remains, sitting on Steve’s bed.
Steve bears the pain without complaint, but he winces, clenching his fists. Thor has never understood Midgardian warriors’ aversion to physical contact when in pain or frightened, and once Natasha has clipped the thread, he lays on the bed and wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders, resting Steve’s head on his chest. Steve manages a huh? and struggles briefly, his jaw clenched. He lays stiffly, carefully; Thor can almost feel the discomfort flowing through his body. Thor knows that this is not typical behavior between people such as themselves, but he doesn’t care. Jane (and even Darcy) enjoy the comfort it gives.
Clint wraps up Steve’s thigh, and excuses himself with Natasha, wearing a smile.
“Thor -” Steve begins, but Thor quiets him.
“It comforts me as well, friend. There is nothing wrong with desiring physical contact from a friend who wishes to give it.”
5. bruce.
Unlike Tony, Bruce prefers quiet. Spending a lazy afternoon reading is when he feels most at ease.
He’s not overly surprised when Steve joins him one Monday, as they both enjoy peace and quiet. They sit on opposite ends of the couch, the only sound being the turning of the pages.
About ten minutes in, Steve stretches out on the couch, tucking his toes under Bruce’s legs. Startled, Bruce flinches, gives Steve a look. Steve pulls back, returning Bruce's look with understanding. Closing his book, he murmurs an apology, gives Bruce a slight smile, and leaves.
Bruce curses to himself; he hates his aversion to touch. He gets it, of course, but that was barely even a touch and he flinched. He’s pathetic.
Steve doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t give Bruce pitying looks, like others do, or go out of his way to avoid personal space. Not that he gets too close, but there are no awkward glances when they stand next to each other making dinner.
He still smiles at Bruce, still sits with Bruce in his lab sometimes: nothing has changed. Bruce knows that Steve sketches Tony’s latest technology with him, but he realizes that Steve is in his lab sketching - him.
Steve shrugs when Bruce asks. “You have a -” he gestures “ - a quality. When you work.”
“A quality.”
“Yes. You’re -” he hesitates again. “You’re comfortable here. Unlike anywhere else. It’s you. You’re dedicated to your work and - I don’t know. You. Do you want me to stop?”
Bruce finds himself smiling. “No,” he says. “No, it’s okay.”
Steve grins back and picks up his pencil.
*
Hulk respects Steve.
Hulk likes Steve. Hulk likes the idea of protecting him. Is one hundred percent okay with physical contact.
Hulk.
If Hulk likes it, it can’t be so frightening.
A few days after Steve’s leg is nearly eviscerated, Bruce finds him on the couch again with a book. Steve looks up, giving him an easy smile, but Bruce can see the concern underneath.
“I can go to my floor,” Steve says, starting to sit up. He winces, but manages to get to his feet.
“Sit,” Bruce commands, taking his place on the other end.
“Really, it’s fine -”
“I wouldn’t have come to the main floor if I weren’t okay with it. Sit. Back. Down.”
“Yes, sir,” Steve says, giving a mock salute, but he relaxes, easing himself back on the couch. They read quietly for a few minutes, until Bruce leans over, picks up Steve’s legs, and drops them in his lap.
“Oh,” Steve says. He doesn’t move, just quirks an eyebrow. Bruce ignores him, opening his own book, and Steve settles in.
For the first time, Bruce has to admit that Hulk is right.
6. everyone.
This is nothing Steve can’t handle. Some simple meet and greets, things he has done literally hundreds of times before on the USO trips. Have to keep up a nice, personal perspective on the Avengers, although today’s are taking place two days after he and Natasha were up for 60 straight hours on a mission. He was still barely able to sleep after, anyway, beyond exhausted, but his mind was working too fast to settle down properly.
He smiles, shakes hands, kisses babies. Signs autographs. Smiles. Smiles some more.
His face hurts.
Steve eats on the plane, shoving bread and cheese in his mouth, but is too tired to eat anything else. He’s paying for it, too, his body craving the calories, but he figures he’ll eat once he wakes up in his own room back in the tower. He can wait that long. He’s gone longer.
Okay, Steve might be a little grumpy when he gets home. Just a little. He might snarl at Clint, who holds out a bowl of popcorn and gestures him into the living room. He definitely doesn’t grit his teeth when Natasha leads him to the shower and turns on the water, shutting the door behind her. He absolutely doesn’t growl when Tony leads him back to the living room, clean and dressed in lounging clothes.
Clint practically shoves popcorn in Steve’s mouth, but Natasha tsks at him, handing Steve a sandwich Thor has made. Steve eats it slowly, begrudgingly, but he starts to feel a little better.
“Good,” Tony says once Steve isn’t grumbling to himself anymore. “Indiana Jones doesn’t appreciate bad moods. Indiana Jones requires full, dedicated attention.”
Steve laughs a little, and everyone gives a slight sigh of relief. He immediately feels guilty about how annoying he must have been, but he settles down on the floor, leaning against the couch.
The movie is good, but he fidgets. It’s stupid, because everyone is there, but he still feels lonely on the floor. He wonders if it would be weird if he climbed on the couch between Clint and Bruce, or if he shifted over to lean against Thor’s legs, but he keeps himself still.
Steve doesn’t notice what must have been a silent conversation going on above him, until Natasha slides down and sits next to him, just enough that their forearms are touching. Next, Thor joins them, pushing Steve off the back of the couch so Steve can rest against his chest. Steve makes a surprised noise, slightly embarrassed, but Clint plops down on his other side before he can say anything. It takes Bruce a few extra minutes, but he joins them too, grabbing a pillow and laying down so his feet are pressed against Steve’s.
“Peer pressure,” Tony groans. His gentle hand on Steve’s neck belies his complaint.
A half an hour in, Natasha has somehow wrapped her limbs around him; Clint holds her hand across Steve’s torso. Thor has slung an arm around Clint, which forces Clint’s head on Steve’s shoulder. Bruce smiles, stretching, toes tapping lazily around Steve’s calf. Tony’s fingers have migrated to Steve’s hair, slow, careful movements that indicates he’s about to drift off.
Steve’s face still might hurt from smiling, but it doesn’t stop him as he closes his eyes, tucking his head under Thor’s chin.