Author's Note: This just kind of exploded into my brain the other morning and I wrote half of it longhand at work in a big Pheel-frenzy. Rating for language, adult situations, and the general tone. Short and sweet, one-shot.

In The Cards.

Waking from a slumber that stretched over several decades was no easy task. Steve Rogers did not initially take this in stride.

Many nights after learning of his unusual and devastating situation, waking up in that false hospital room, he would cry with himself. He avoided people at all, avoided press, avoided anything that wasn't in a gym or in his bed. There was nothing for him in this time - not that he could see yet. The world had changed radically as he'd 'slept'. Everywhere around him, people were functioning with new and frightening technology. He couldn't walk down a street or eat out without seeing tiny, personal computers and even tinier mobile phones. Everything was wireless, or wired differently; and this applied to the people, as well.

Gender equality and sexual freedom were on the menu. Steve felt nothing negative, per se; but it was a little shocking to see the boldness of the women of this time. Gay couples walked confidently down streets, holding hands, necking in parks, even. Of course, he'd had a little taste of a powerful, assertive woman in Peggy. He ached over their lost time, the time they should've spent together. Sometimes, he fantasized over their kiss. Times when he had a moment alone, when he would imagine where that kiss could've led, a hand snaked into his trousers. Eyes squeezed shut. Heart pounding. But even after the sudden and powerful release and the subsequent waves of zen-like satisfaction, it would only lead back into the hollowness he felt all the time.

Then came Director Fury and the Avengers. Steve was no stranger to the stiff and intimidating nature of government officials; and then there was Phil Coulson. Phil was warm and friendly, perhaps overly so. Steve was thrown into this initiative without a friend, and Phil reached out almost desperately for his friendship. He kept to himself, even in the face of the agent's awkward and flattering confessions. He needed to focus on the mission, like the good soldier he was. Otherwise, he would have received Phil's admiration and explored his kindness further. He needed a friend. But his needs came after his country's. He had no idea that he might not have had another chance.

Of the Avengers, he couldn't find a real comrade. He could not reconstruct his and Bucky's relationship, and none of his new teammates seemed to fit the bill, anyway. He found a secret comfort in being around Doctor Banner. He compared his life situation with the other man; two monstrosities in this group of standard-issue humans (save Thor, another being altogether). Incredible and highly skilled humans, of course, but not the same. Banner had buddied up with Tony Stark rather quickly, which soured Steve. He'd been excited to meet Howard's son, but he didn't expect the spoiled, selfish man that had showed up. He loathed the billionaire's smugness, and more than that, envied his likeability. But the mission. At least he had the mission.

His view of everyone changed dramatically as Loki tore apart the city. Tony finally seemed to give a shit about something other than himself; everyone regarded each other with trust and respect. He could feel very real panic as he watched his partners battle against these aliens with their very lives, surviving only on their talented combat. He had to set aside his mind-numbing awe, calm his filling heart, lest he have an emotional breakdown among the Chitauri corpses.

Yet, through everything - even Tony's intensely frightening brush with death - it was Phil that struck Steve the hardest. He'd kept his emotions inside when he met Phil, trying to be casual toward him, instead of latching. Now he'd never get the chance. He grieved in private, not quite understanding why it fucked him up so severely.

In the wake of Loki's destruction of the city and subsequent departure, Tony redesigned his tower to accommodate the Avengers. Steve welcomed the new quarters and welcomed his new life. It still did not distract him from his confused anguish - he ached for Phil. He kept the cards, stiff with blood, always with him. Sometimes he cried at night, or while he beat punching bags across the gym.

Then there was a meeting with Director Fury. Tony stood proudly beside him, looking so tense with excitement that he could burst. His eyes were glistening and his grin infectious. The other Avengers gathered about their table and Fury took a breath. And then it happened. Agent Phil Coulson strode into the room, looking a little worse for wear, but alive. A month or so after his 'death'. It was all Steve could do to remain in his seat, to not cry with gratitude. He ignored the confusion of his feelings and floated by on his frantic heartbeat, the delicate flutters of excitement in his belly. He barely listened to Fury and Tony, focusing on Phil - Phil caught his stare fully, returning it. Tony ended up in tears as he spoke. They'd been able to keep him barely alive as the best doctors they could find worked on his tissue, and Tony worked on a new device that worked similarly to the arc reactor in his chest. Phil had responded positively, and grew stronger every day.

That night, Steve found Phil's quarters. He knocked, heart racing, and lost his breath as Phil answered in his pajamas. "Captain," Phil commented, surprised. "What's up?"

Steve could not stop the next few minutes if he tried. He grabbed Phil by the shoulders and kissed him. It was a hesitant and nervous kiss, quick, leaving a look of shock on either of their faces. Phil grabbed Steve's face and pulled him back, and they made the kiss count. They made it count all the way to Phil's bed, the door having been locked. Steve tore the man's clothing off, stroking his chest and belly, the tender scarred flesh around his wound. He traced it lovingly. "Mr. Rogers -" Phil breathed.

"Steve. Call me Steve."

"Steve..."

He felt the throbbing strain against his trousers as Phil moaned his name. He undressed quickly and the two devoured each others' mouths, hands groping and squeezing the appropriate areas. Steve rutted against Phil, astounded at the feeling of another warm body, members slick in their excitement.

"It's my first time." Steve admitted this in a whisper, in between frantic gasps and nibbles at Phil's throat.

"I know. Don't worry. You're running the show, Captain."

Steve growled and bit the agent's lip. Phil stroked Steve's aching cock. He jerked his hips into the hand, another new pleasure. Phil wrapped his legs around Steve and guided him eagerly inside.

"Oh, God. Phil... this is..."

The soldier was cut off as Phil drove himself forward, til Steve was fully sheathed. They rocked together, Phil's erection against Steve's abdomen as their bodies writhed. Steve craved Phil's mouth, his tongue, the tight heat of his body driving him mad. Phil reached climax first, and the sounds emitting from him were just hot enough to bring Steve over the edge with him. They caught their breath, sticky with sweat and come, and lie side-by-side. Phil rolled onto his side and gazed upon his companion.

"So... about those cards."

Steve laughed.