(A/N: Thank you so much for the amazing response to the original story. I hope I was able to help with some of the wounds of Infinity War! I didn't intend to write any more on this, but a few more scenes have been nagging at me. These all take place in the aftermath of the original story, because there were some conversations that needed to happen. And I may still be a tiny bit bitter that we didn't get any reconciliation from Tony and Steve in the movie.)

"I am Groot."

"No, I'm not mad at you. I'm glad you're okay."

"I am Groot."

"It was a brave thing to do, and you saved the pirate angel. I'm just saying, in the future, maybe don't go around cutting bits off your own body."

"I am Groot."

Rocket heaved a weary sigh. "Yeah, I know it looked badass, but that's really not the point."

"I am Groot."

"Watch it with the sass!" He stood up on his chair and plucked the video game out of Groot's hand. "I don't even know where you're getting these things from. Is this a Terran video game? Come on, Groot, not cool. And look, I'm an adult, that means I get to make my own choices, and I can't help it if those always end up looking badass. Until you're an adult, you listen to what I tell you."

Groot crossed his arms, looking disconsolately at his confiscated game. He looked set to try and sulk for the rest of the night and, frankly, Rocket was prepared to let him - he was glad enough to have his friend back that he could do whatever the hell he wanted. Not that Rocket was going to tell him that. He was deeply, profoundly, painfully relieved not to be on his own again, but he wasn't an idiot.

And then Groot clearly caught side of something across the room, because he perked up and nudged Rocket in the side. Rocket followed his line of sight.

"I am Groot?"

A grin stole across Rocket's face, which developed into a laugh that filled his whole body. Yeah, it was good to have his buddy back. "Hell yes. We need to sneak up on him though, he's got quick reflexes. You hold him down, I'll go for the arm."

"That was a stupid choice, telling him where the soul stone was." Nebula's voice was cool and controlled. "You should have let me die."

Gamora scowled. The two of them were standing at the edge of the room furthest from the door, leaning against a wall, while on the other side of the vast space a cheerful commotion began as more food was brought in. Peter was in the midst of it all - they'd only been on Earth an hour or so, but he seemed to have made friends with half of this new crowd and pissed the other half off, which was about standard for him. Gamora, glad as she was for how things had worked out - and she was, she was glad beyond reckoning, more than she'd ever felt before - preferred to stay back, work out the lay of the land first. They were among allies here, but they were all new and unusually powerful - she wanted to know their ways out if this all went wrong.

Plus, this was where Nebula seemed determined to hang out, so there she was too.

"He wasn't going to kill you," she said tightly, thinking back to that horrible moment, the realisation of what Thanos was putting Nebula through. "He was going to keep torturing you. Maybe forever."

"So what? It was my life against giving him untold power. It was foolish."

"Ugh!" Gamora pushed away from the wall, turning sharply to face Nebula. "Maybe it was, maybe it was a stupid thing to do!" she said, half yelling, not caring whose attention she drew. But she was not too angry to see the way Nebula flinched, like this was a confirmation she had been pushing for but not wanted to hear. "But you know what? I'd do it again. You're my sister. I let you down for so many years. I'm not just going to stand by while you're in pain, not again."

The look of hurt was gone. In its place, Nebula blinked at her, face momentarily blank. Then she seemed, if anything, confused. Surprised. It made Gamora's heart ache, because even she herself despite all the awful things she'd done had found a family, found people who would do anything to keep her from pain, and Nebula had never had that.

"Oh," Nebula said, unusually softly.

Gamora swallowed hard. "Yeah, oh." They stood in silence for a moment, then she couldn't bear it any longer - she stepped closer and drew Nebula in, lightly and so carefully, pulling her close with one hand around her shoulders and one cradling her head. It took several long moments, but Nebula reached out jerkily to hold her in return.

When they parted, Gamora went back to leaning on the wall so that she could let Nebula pretend there wasn't moisture in her eyes.

"So," she said, gesturing around the room, at the crowd that was still growing as more Asgardians and Wakandans joined, and brought the noise level up with them. "Thanos is dead and we're still here. What will you do now?"

"I don't know." Nebula's voice was still steady, even as she touched the corners of her eyes. "It was my purpose for so long, killing him. I don't know what else to do, who I am without that."

Something painful was thudding along with Gamora's heartbeat, something she tried not to name but she knew what it was by how much it hurt. Hope. "You could stick with us, you know," she said, hoping her voice stayed casual. "Make some money, help some people. Save the galaxy a couple more times. We're getting pretty good at it."

"You'd let me come with you? After everything?"

"Nebula, you're my sister. Of course."

"But," she said, hesitantly. "It's not just you. The others?"

"We're family," Gamora said simply. "That includes you. And it means that you're welcome with us, always."

Asgard was safe. It was as they had said - Asgard was not the place they had lost, it was the people they had saved. Their losses still weighed heavily on him - he could not help but think, every time he saw his people assembled before him, of those who weren't there, so many of them and even those he had thought would be beside him forever. The Lady Sif and the Warriors Three - his friends' jubilant voices still rang in his head, though they would never again be heard in any of the realms he could reach.

Yet the grief was much less than it had been, for against all that should be possible he had got so many of them back. He had lost everything, he had hit the bottom, but now he had recovered so much of what had been taken from him. Heimdall, Valkyrie. Loki. Loki, above all, even though it was not so long since Thor had been fighting against him. Even after they had found their own kind of peace he had thought to leave his brother on Sakaar, if that was Loki's choice. But after having genuinely believed that this death might have been final, Thor knew he couldn't suggest the same thing again.

Which was why, as he followed the last of his people into the hall where the mighty Wakandan king was making them welcome, he lingered in the doorway rather than going immediately to join the feasting. It wasn't long before a stealthy, almost silent presence joined him.

For a long moment they didn't speak, instead watching their people - their people - find a place where they could rest for the first time since Hela breached the Bifrost. There was a part of Thor that thought he should be on edge, be prepared for anything, because even on Sakaar Loki had been willing to betray him. But he had also sacrificed his own life to try and kill Thanos, even after all of Asgard was lost, and that was either because it was the right thing to do or to try and save Thor - he wasn't sure which, and it didn't matter. And Thor was so very tired of being at odds with his brother.

It was Loki who broke the silence. "What will you do now?"

Thor finally shifted to set his axe down at the edge of the room. The weight was a comfort, a reminder of what he had achieved, but it was not his hammer. He did not look at Loki, almost convinced that would be enough to make him leave.

"I will stay with them. We need to start again, rebuild where we can find safety. Perhaps on Earth, perhaps another world. I will find a place for us." He crossed his arms, cleared his throat, feeling more awkward than he had done in years.

He was a god; what was he so afraid of?

Ah, but he knew. He was afraid to get the answer he knew Loki was most likely to give. But he still had to ask.

"You could stay, you know. Help me."

Loki shifted, let out a slow breath. "I'm not sure I have it in me, brother," he said quietly. "I long scorned Odin for his leadership, but I've been little better. It was my actions that led to Ragnarok. In sending our father away, I freed Hela."

Across the room, a child laughed, clear and bright, loud enough to be heard above the constant hum of conversation. Asgardians mingled with the people of Wakanda and with their other allies - the Avengers, the Guardians. It settled something in Thor's chest, eased an ache that had been growing there for days.

"It would have gladdened him to hear you call him that," Thor said. "And when you called yourself his son in front of Thanos. Odin would have left soon anyway, I think. He did not tell us about Hela soon enough to count, nor do I think he ever would have done. He did not prepare our people for her return, though he knew it would come. What happened is not your fault. Asgard was destined to perish in that way; we might only have delayed it a little. I do not blame you, brother."

He could feel Loki's gaze on him. "You did before."

"I know," he said, and that was another weight he carried. "I am sorry for it. But when I thought you dead - when you were dead, and all our people with you, I could not bear it. We've both made mistakes. I want to go forward knowing that however many times we part, there's still a chance I'll see you again. I know we might be too different, that you might not want to stay. But wherever I am, wherever our people are - that's your home too, if you want it."

"I'm not..." It was Loki's hesitation that made Thor turn, at last. Whether he was right or wrong, Loki never floundered for words. Though Thor knew well enough that he could never trust appearances when it came to his brother, Loki did look uncertain. "I'm not sure I can stay here."

"Home isn't about staying in one place. It's about coming back."

What passed over Loki's face certainly looked like genuine emotion, and his gaze flicked back and forth across Thor's face like he was trying to catch a lie. "Yes," he said eventually, clearly finding none. "I suppose you're right."

Thor stared at him - one beat, then two. Loki narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

Without answering, Thor leaned forward and poked Loki sharply in the arm.

"Ouch! Don't be childish, Thor, I'm really here."

"Can you blame me for being uncertain? You admitted that I was right about something."

"Can I take it back? I take it back," Loki said quickly. "You're never right, you oaf. No, leave me alone, get off!"

Thor, beaming, merely tightened his grip around his brother's shoulders. "Come on. Whether you're staying or going, you can spare the time to eat with me first. We have won a great victory here, and it must be celebrated."

"When you say we, do you mean to include me, or are you talking about yourself and that ridiculously oversized axe?"

"Stormbreaker is the weapon that cut off the head of the mighty titan, brother, its name shall go down in the annals!"

"Sure, great, fantastic. Is this another one only you can lift? Because if you use it to trap me in my room again, I'm going to kill you."

It was an incredible group of people to be in the middle of, but Peter Quill found his attention drawn back to where Gamora and Nebula were standing about every five seconds. It was frustrating, when there was so much to do and so many people to see - and God, he had missed Earth food, you just couldn't get it like this anywhere else - but there was too much on his mind to settle into it. The moment he saw Gamora leave Nebula's side and catch his eye, he darted over.

There was so much to do - he wanted to kiss her, to tell her he loved her and how glad he was that she wasn't dead - but there was one thing he needed to do first.

"I'm sorry," he said, breathless and a little on edge, and he grabbed her hand to draw her into a quiet corner, paranoid that Rocket would be eavesdropping anywhere else - or, worse, that Drax would show up practising his invisibility again.

"What for?" Gamora said, her smile falling away into a frown.

"I promised," he said, hating how desperate it sounded. "I promised I'd kill you. I promised on my mom. And I messed it up. I couldn't do it, I waited too long and he figured it out. If I'd just done it straight away-"

"It's alright, Peter."

"No, it's not, and you know why? Because I'm not even sure if I'm sorry for waiting too long, or for promising in the first place. It was the universe or you, and I chose the universe, but I even did that too late and I still wish I'd chosen you instead. Maybe it all worked out in the end but I'm not sure I could ever do that again. I thought you were dead. It hurt so bad I screwed up our chance to kill Thanos, before he got all the stones. If you asked me to do that again, my promise might not mean shit. I can't live in a world where you're dead again. I couldn't kill you and I couldn't save you."

"Oh, Peter," she said, and it made him ache, the way she looked so close to tears. "Don't. It's - I know. It was a terrible thing to ask. You tried, you didn't let me down. But you've got to know, I'd never ask, knowing how much it would hurt you, unless the stakes were so high that it was worth it. And you've got to trust me, you've got to let me make that call."

It sounded like it hurt her to say, but it was nothing to hearing it - Peter recoiled back.

"Would you do it, the other way round?" he demanded. "Would you trust me to make the call?" Even as he said it, saw the way her face fell even further, he started shaking his head, a sick feeling in his stomach. This, he couldn't stand to hear. "No, actually, don't answer that, I'm not sure I want to-"

"I don't know," she interrupted, and now the pain in her voice was clear - terrible and deep. "I think I'd make the promise too, if you asked, but I don't know if I'd do it. Thanos made me into a killer, the most dangerous woman in the galaxy according to him; I know I could do it. But you're what's made the galaxy worth living in. I always know I could do it - but I don't know if I would, this time, even to save everything else."

Peter pulled her forward, closing his eyes and holding her close. "You know," he mumbled into her hair, "we've got a really messed up way of saying we love each other."

She laughed into his chest, and it made his whole soul soar. "Yeah, but it works."

The celebration lasted long enough that when he finally half sat, half fell into a chair at an unoccupied table, Steve had no idea what time it was. The tall windows now showed a starry night sky above the dimmed lights of the city, but it had been that way for hours. Still, the hall showed no signs of quietening down. Asgardians, he was learning, would regularly party for days at a time - Earth must have been a bit of a disappointment for Thor, all these years.

Some of the refugees had managed to keep packs of possessions with them, and from these several small, intricately crafted musical instruments had appeared. For hours now the hall had been filled ceaselessly with music - sometimes haunting and full of mourning for their lost planet, sometimes jubilant in celebration of the lives lived before those deaths, for battles won and their own survival. Each tune was linked by the beauty of its melody, and the emotions it could invoke. More recently several Wakandan musicians had joined them, and they'd begun to create something new together. Asgardian music might never have been heard on Earth before, but this was something that had never been heard in the whole universe, and it was breathtaking.

Joy was still a ceaseless strength inside him, but even Steve's serum-enhanced adrenaline was starting to drop. He closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the conversations that were all so loud and overlapping that it was impossible to pick any particular words out, and with that breathtaking music always behind it. It was good to have a moment, between it all, to take stock of where he was. He'd been surrounded by friends all night, welcomed in the centre of this jubilation, and it was still overwhelming.

A sudden shout from a familiar voice jolted him out of his daze, and he was on his feet before he even thought about it, adrenaline spiking again. Bucky. What was going-

And then he saw Bucky sprinting through the hall, a slightly wild look in his eye, and he raced over when he caught sight of Steve.

"Why does the raccoon want my arm, Steve?" he demanded, looking a bit frenzied. "What the hell is going on?"

Steve just stared, his mind taking a moment to catch up to the realisation that they weren't under attack, and he just gaped at Bucky.

"Oh, you're no help," Bucky groaned. "This place was so lovely before they came. Sam, I need your help!"

And then he was gone again, and seconds later Rocket and Groot passed in hot pursuit.

Steve stared for several more seconds - and then he was laughing, hopeless and loud. Bucky shot him a crude hand gesture without looking back, even as he ran and grabbed Sam by the arm, and it just made Steve laugh harder than ever.

When he could breathe again, he dropped back into his chair and looked around the hall, wiping actual tears of mirth from his eyes. It had become a habit, tonight, to keep checking around for his friends, though he could reasonably assume Bucky and Sam would be AWOL for a while. He considered going to help Bucky, but he was fairly sure Rocket and Groot wouldn't actually hurt him - or if they tried, they wouldn't get very far.

Thor, Loki and Heimdall had sequestered themselves at a table with T'Challa, M'Baku, Captain Marvel and several others Steve didn't know some time ago, clearly strategising together - no doubt about the Asgardians and the five infinity stones still in their care. Steve felt again that tug to go and join them, but he wasn't sure it was his place any more - wasn't sure it was even still what he wanted.

Strange had left almost as soon as he'd arrived, taking the time stone with him. After they'd picked him up on Titan, the man had looked prepared to go through any of them to get to the stones - and Steve, having exhausted his capacity for being surprised by anything, just watched the wizard and his rather unique cloak march straight up to where the stones still lay amid the remains of the gauntlet. He'd opened up when he called the Eye of Agamotto, and the time stone had gravitated towards it and settled in place. The amulet snapped shut, closing the green light off from view, and then itself disappeared. Strange had spent the journey back casting protective spells around the other stones and conversing with Thor and Loki, and once they'd reached Wakanda he left through one of his orange portals with assurances that he would be back with advice on what to do with the stones.

Steve looked away, scanning the room for other familiar faces. Shuri, eschewing the politics, had disappeared some time ago with Peter Parker. Despite not knowing either youngster well, Steve had a strong suspicion that it was a friendship everyone else was going to regret. They'd spent much of the night in eager conversation, often with Tony - and although Steve had occasionally been close enough to hear bursts of the excited conversation, he couldn't honestly say he'd understood anything beyond the hellos.

Clint had stayed for only as long as it took to check everyone was alright and get T'Challa to agree to loan him a plane. Once it was arranged, he'd barely stayed long enough to say goodbye before dashing off to find his family - and Natasha had shown him a video, several hours later, of all three of Clint's kids mucking around at the dinner table. It was another part of all of them healed, to see that.

Bruce, never the biggest fan of a large crowd, had left a while ago. Steve had been concerned to see him slip out so quietly, all the same, after the day they'd had. He had meant to follow - but then he saw Natasha leave after Bruce, and knew he wasn't needed.

Bucky had certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, at least up until very recently, and the change in his friend made Steve feel settled in a way he hadn't been in so many years. Bucky seemed happy again, seemed to have found his way back to himself, and he moved easily among people, charming everyone like he'd always used to.

And then there was Tony. Steve couldn't see him at first, and it sent a jolt of worry through him. Tony alone had borne the full weight of all six infinity stones before the rest of them had joined him. What if that had consequences, what if he wasn't alright?

But there he was, visible as a group of people shifted, grinning at the prone form of James Rhodes, who had, by all appearances, just lost a very misguided drinking contest against an Asgardian. Tony patted his rather miserable looking friend on the back, speaking gratefully to one of the Dora Milaje who seemed to have taken pity on Rhodes, and helped him to his feet. They began a staggering walk away from the table, presumably in search of a bed where Rhodes could sleep it off.

Once he was alone, and thought he was unobserved, the grin fell away from Tony's face. He looked older without it, wearier, and he began to make his own way out of the room. But there was something off about the way he was moving, in his gait and the way he skirted around the edge of the space carefully, so different from the presence he usually exuded that meant crowds moved seamlessly for him. It was that off note that made Steve get up to follow, concern overriding the fear that he wouldn't be welcome.

Still, by the time he made it through the crowd and out of the room himself, there was no sign of Tony. There were others standing in the corridor outside, taking advantage of the quieter space to talk, but Tony had clearly already moved on. Steve took a gamble and went in the direction of the guest rooms T'Challa had offered them earlier.

It wasn't long before he was into empty corridors - and not long after that that he came across Tony, sitting against a wall with his head on his knees.

Steve's heart lurched into his mouth. "Tony!"

As he dashed forward, Tony looked up. Caught in his sudden full attention, Steve came to a stop, suddenly faltering.

"Are - are you alright?"

"What?" Tony looked startled, more by Steve's presence than the question. "I'm good."

"Then why are you sitting out here?"

"I got lost," Tony said, and he didn't even try to make it sound like a reasonable cause for his situation.

"Right," Steve said, trying to keep his voice even and remind himself he didn't have the right to be hurt by Tony not being forthcoming. "Well, I'm lost too. Mind if I join you?"

"Can't exactly stop you."

It was hardly a ringing statement of approval, and Steve hesitated before sitting down next to him. It wasn't exactly a surprise if Tony didn't want Steve near him, but he also couldn't in good conscience walk away when he was sure there was something wrong.

He had once, a snide thought in the back of his head reminded him. He'd half killed Tony, and he'd walked away.

It had been to save Bucky, but it was still true. He'd still left.

"How's he doing?" Tony said, quietly, looking at the wall across the corridor. It had to mean something that he asked the question so simply, when it was usually his style to throw in some kind of inappropriate nickname, especially about people he didn't like. And surely too that he didn't even need to say Bucky's name for them to know who he meant.

"He's on the run from the Guardians at the moment," Steve said wryly. "I think they want him for parts."

Tony snorted. Emboldened, Steve continued. "But yeah, he's good. A lot better than he's been in a long time." He chanced a glance across at Tony, trying to read his face. "I saw you two talking?"

"Well, he and I had some things to go through," Tony said, almost dismissively. Then, apparently reconsidering, he made as if to look at Steve then turned his head away again before he got there. "After the whole death match thing, you know. He said he's sorry, about my folks, I said it's not his fault. Everything's simpatico. I threw it out there that I can maintain that stunning new arm if he comes back to the States and doesn't want to have to fly back to Wakanda whenever he damages it, because I'm sure he'll find a way to break it, but he might not want that, could be weird, totally his call."

Tony looked like he might keep going, but Steve jumped in. His heart was in his throat.

"If he goes back to the States? Tony, you know he can't," he said, almost frantic. "They'll arrest him."

"Oh, yeah, about that." Tony shrugged, then grimaced as the movement clearly pained him. On anyone else, his demeanour might seem suspicious, but Steve knew that look. For all Tony's apparent arrogance and narcissism, he was always cagey about the very best things he did. "I've been laying some groundwork, since I read the files. Spreading the word that you guys aren't as bad as Ross has made out; did some stuff to help Barton and Lang. It's not an overnight thing, there's a lot of minds to change, but it's not just Ross - and he still needs me, anyway. People are sympathetic to Barnes, when they know the truth. You too, it's just about how we say it. Leave out the Accords, focus on you saving a war buddy. The old heroes angle, you know. It's not like anyone wants to arrest Captain America. They'll still be on at you to sign the Accords but it's a dialogue now, you can at least read them over, see if they'll change anything that's a real sticking point. End of the day, the world still needs you. You should get to come home, if you want to."

How was it that Tony could sometimes talk so much without saying a single thing, and other times in a few heartbeats change everything Steve thought he knew like it didn't even matter? Steve sank back against the wall, a mere foot of space between their shoulders that might as well have been a mile. His mind was reeling.

"You'd do that?" he said, when his brain finally kicked into gear.

Tony bowed his head a little. "I'm tired of war, Steve."

Steve looked at him - really, properly looked. Tony did look tired. Weary and miserable, the kind of unhappiness that went soul deep. It was all the more a contrast after his apparent cheer that evening and it was so much the opposite of what he deserved to feel after the victory he'd won. And it was just one conversation with Steve that had sufficed to put it there.

They could have been so much more than this, couldn't they? There had been moments like gold dust before their fight and between the arguments, moments when they'd worked together as seamlessly as Steve ever had with Bucky. It was different, though. He'd always been able to count on Bucky at his shoulder, whereas Tony would be somewhere else altogether, thinking five steps ahead, but always there when he was needed. What would it have been like to fight alongside them both? To know he had such unwavering allies on the ground and in the air; Bucky with an eye on the threats coming in the moment, Tony anticipating what was to come and Steve calling the strategy?

The idea made his heart ache with an unexpected ferocity. It was like a wave of grief for something he'd never had, the way things could have been, and the hit of it struck him like physical pain.

"Yeah," he said, and his voice sounded broken. "Me too."

It was so empty, so insufficient, but his thoughts were wild and hard to marshal. Tony didn't speak and Steve took the chance to think, to work out what he could offer in return to everything Tony had said. His words were a paltry recompense for it.

In the silence, he could still hear the music from the hall, the blending of culture from two planets.

"I've always tried to do the right thing," he said haltingly. "My whole life, from a long time before I could really follow through on it. I never wanted what came with being Captain America - to be held up as that example of morality, to have people think I'm this unfailing hero. I make mistakes, and sometimes I make calls that are right for me, not for the world. And that's okay, as a person, but not as a hero. Trying to save Vision even though it let Thanos get the stone, in the end - I believe it's right to take that risk, that one life should always be worth that, but it's not what saves the most people. I'm not what everyone wants me to be. It was like that with Bucky. I couldn't let him get arrested, I couldn't let him die. Despite the fallout. He's my friend, and he's innocent. But it's what Captain America should have done - sign the Accords and let the nations decide what happens to Bucky."

"You wouldn't be you, if you could've let that happen," Tony said, and there was less resentment in his voice than Steve had expected. He sounded understanding, in truth. "Screw the rest of the world - the Avengers only ever needed you, not some ideal of Captain America. I liked you better when I started thinking of you as Steve Rogers."

Tony did look at him now, and Steve almost wished he hadn't. This close, with Tony's defences this lowered, it was horribly easy to see pain in his face. The accusation from Siberia had aged into something even worse, this fragile, confused hurt.

"You didn't tell me."

There was no question about what he meant.

Steve nodded, feeling that old twist of guilt. "I know. I should have. I guess I thought I was keeping you from that pain - and, I'm not going to lie to you, I did it to protect Bucky as well. I was wrong, Tony. You had the right to know, and I shouldn't have assumed how you'd react to him."

Tony scoffed, clearly taking those words and channelling them against himself. "You weren't wrong about that though, were you?"

"You were in pain," Steve offered, hesitantly. He was so out of his depth here. How could they possibly talk their way out of everything that had happened, everything they'd done to each other?

But Tony moved like he was trying to push himself up, and fell back again with a grunt of pain. The panic that shot through Steve was as genuine as it had ever been, as sharp and urgent as it would ever be with Bucky - and that, at the end of the day, was the proof. He still cared, more than he was sure he was allowed to any more.

"You are hurt!" he said, glad only that Tony could hardly pretend otherwise any more.

Of course, this was Tony Stark.

"I'm - shit - I'm fine," Tony insisted, repositioning himself in a way that kept the weight off his injured hand and eased the pressure on his abdomen. "Rhodey made sure some people patched me up."

"You don't look fine. You know what they can do here, why didn't you let them heal you properly?"

"They wanted to put me under to do it. I can't - I don't want to go to sleep, not yet. This is fine, the old school way. For a bit longer."

His tone was a little desperate, and Steve suddenly got it. He knew what it was to be holding on by a thread, to fear the nightmares you'd see when you closed your eyes - or worse still, that awful lingering fear that it was the good things that were only a dream, and you'd wake to find the nightmare was real. Steve understood because a part of him was also afraid he'd wake up and find they hadn't succeeded after all.

He wanted to drag Tony along for proper healthcare, get him fixed up as well as he could be, but even though that might be for the best it wasn't what Tony needed right now.

"I sometimes feel," he said softly, "that what I'm trying to get back to isn't something I've ever had. We've done great things as a team, but we never... we were friends, but I don't think I ever knew you as well as I wanted to."

There was a long silence, and when Tony replied his words were so carefully casual that Steve knew how much they mattered to him.

"When I rebuilt the tower, I designed a floor for everyone," he said, a little too fast, avoiding Steve's eyes again in favour of studying the bandage currently immobilising his hand. "All the Avengers. I thought - I don't know. I thought maybe everyone could use it as a base. A home, I guess. It was stupid. We ended up at the compound, that made a lot more sense, and then it all went to hell anyway."

There was an ache, deep in Steve's chest, strong enough to hurt. "I didn't know that," he said, feeling a bit like Tony had hollowed him out.

Tony shrugged, his efforts at being casual still too forced to be believable. "Yeah, well. It's just... not what everyone needed. Not what the team wanted."

Maybe that was true. But maybe... what if they had all lived in Tony's tower after Loki's invasion, a place a lot more homely than the compound ever was? It would have been risky, in a tower in the middle of New York, both from external threats that would come for them and from keeping six people composed of issues and dangerous skills in a confined space. But it wasn't like they'd have had to stay in there, they could just have used it as a collective base. Steve could've come back to a building with friends in it when he needed company, not always an empty apartment. He could've had help learning about the modern world - and that made him think of watching all those movies on his list with the others, bickering over movie choices or whose turn it was to bring the popcorn. He could have learned about tech and all the possibilities of the future watching Tony create it in his workshop. They could all have come together for meals, got to know each other properly, as people and not just powers.

Was that the future Tony had seen for them, and Steve had been too caught up in himself to consider it?

And Bucky - Steve couldn't help that his mind would always come back to Bucky, in the end - when Steve learned the truth about Tony's parents maybe they would have been close enough for him to know how to tell him. Maybe Tony would've helped him find Bucky, been there to understand what had been done to him all along, never would've tried to kill him because he'd have known Bucky wasn't to blame.

It was all just wishful thinking, but it felt so real that it hurt.

"I know we're not friends any more," he began, and despite everything the words still sent a flinch across Tony's face, the smallest crease of hurt. But Steve wasn't done. "I need to stop trying to go back - that's been my problem for a long time. It's not an option, not like we could ever use the time stone again. And I might not have the right to ask this, but... We could start over. We're at nothing now, but we were at nothing when we met. We could try to start again. To do better, this time."

Tony looked at him at last. His eyes flicked between Steve's, like he was trying to see into his head.

"What if this was the first battle we'd fought together, then?" Tony said, and his voice gave away everything his face didn't - it was hoarse, threaded through with the most fragile hint of hope. "If nothing else had come before, and we'd just met defeating Thanos together."

"Well, for one thing, I'd get you properly checked out by medical professionals," Steve said, deadpan, and it was worth it for the huff of breath Tony gave that might have been the edge of laughter. Hope pounded, radiant, in Steve's chest. "I guess, seeing my new teammate who's clearly tired and hurting but has his reasons for not wanting to sleep, I'd see if he wanted to acquire some food from our hosts and find somewhere to watch all the terrible B movies we can find."

Tony smiled, and it transformed his face - throwing off the shadows and grief, and he looked just as relieved as Steve felt.

"That's cheating," he said, shaking his head. "You wouldn't know how much I love shitty movies."

"I didn't know you do," Steve said gently, and even though it was another admission of the distance that had always been between them, it felt like a victory because now he did know. Now, it was a bridge, and there were so many more to find.

Steve pushed himself up into a crouch, and offered his hands. Tony shifted slowly, and Steve could imagine how much his body had stiffened up, the wounds hurting more than ever with the movement. When Tony reached out in return, Steve helped him up, supporting his forearms rather than risking his injured hand.

"Where d'you reckon," Tony said, as they took a moment to let him steady himself, "T'Challa keeps the movie room? You just know there's a massive private cinema around here somewhere."

Steve grinned, feeling something settle deep inside him. It wasn't like meeting Tony for the first time - it never could be, really. But this was better than their first meeting, by far. They'd started so badly, found something better along the way and then lost it all - but now he knew what this friendship was worth, what it could be, and how much it was worth protecting.

"Let's go find it, then. Lead the way, Mr Stark."