A/N: So, this takes place directly after the first Avengers movie, because I like the original Avengers. Don't get me wrong, I love the new ones, too, but I just felt like I wanted to originals. And I wanted them to be able to become a family without the whole civil war thing happening first, because... well, Civil War just made me cry so much…

Steve was the first one to agree.

Honestly, Tony hadn't planned on making the offer—period. The Avengers were just some misfits tossed together, and they didn't really get along together—plus, Steve was the one that Tony got along with the least.

But after the battle, Steve had talked with some people, and then he just sat there for a while, staring blankly at the remnants of New York, his eyes lost and unfocused… as though he were wondering, What now?

Oddly enough, it reminded Tony of a lost child, and even though he told himself that Fury probably would take care of Steve, the words had come out of his mouth before he had realized.

"Hey, Capsicle, need a place to crash?"

Steve's eyes flickered upwards, and the faintest hint of a smile quirked up the edges of his lips. "You making me an offer, Stark?"

Tony shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Big mansion, genius billionaire, hero who saved the world offering you a home… doesn't seem all that bad to me." He grinned. "But, you know, that could be just me. For all I know you'd prefer to find a place on your own. Set out by your lonesome in a big, new world… without boring ol' me stealing all the ladies around…"

"No, no." Steve cut in with a small laugh. "It's just that… I haven't really thought of that yet." He looked around and his eyes seemed to dim a little. "A home… I haven't had a place like that for seventy years." The man out of time looked around. "I look at this city, somewhere I was born and raised… I look at the people, who haven't evolved a single bit… the families are the same, the friendships the same, the clothes basically the same… and yet, I can't find a single semblance to what home seems like in my head." He touched two fingers to his forehead. "Is that wrong? Or stupid? What does that mean?"

Tony shrugged again, a lump beginning to build in his throat. "It's not wrong." He replied. The quietness of his voice felt almost alien, but he pushed on. "It's not stupid, either. It just means that you need somewhere to get used to."

Steve shook his head. "I don't think I could ever get used to this." He responded in a hushed voice. "I can never get used to this world."

"Don't be stupid." Tony replied. "I'll help you."

Steve offered Tony another smile. "Thanks." He replied. "So, you offered for me to live with you? Do I get a bedroom, or…"

"Oh, no." Tony grinned. "You're getting a whole floor dedicated to you. I'm thinking I could get some vintage stuff… maybe some WW2 newspaper clippings, nah, wait, would that be, like, traumatic or something? Maybe one of those fancy grandfather clocks… ooh, is this going to be fun or what?"

And suddenly Steve wondered if it might just really be possible for him to have a new home.

0o0o0o0o0

The Tower was fancy.

Really fancy.

Just one little room would have been fine for Steve, but of course Stark had to show off and be Stark, and gave him a whole floor.

It made his throat clench a little when he saw that he had his own private kitchen—mom would have loved this—and when he saw the old fashioned tables and chairs—Bucky had bought something just like that jar at a garage sale when they were twelve—but through the pain he also felt grateful for Stark getting things that felt so familiar to him.

"So, do you like it?" Stark asked, beaming proudly as he gestured around the room.

"It's wonderful." Steve replied honestly as he brushed two fingers against an old wooden table. "It almost feels like I'm back in—" He cut himself off with a shake of the head. "Thank you, Stark."

"No problem." Stark replied eagerly. "So, I got a training room over in this direction for you—I've heard that you're strong and stuff, so I was like 'dude! He'd love some gym stuff, right?' and sort of just got everything I could find. If you don't like anything, we'll get something else and throw that out."

"No, that's not necessary." Steve quickly cut in with a shake of his head. "Thank you. This is more than enough."

Stark grinned. "So, we need to do a lot of things." He briskly started. "Like catching you up on all the new stuff—man, have you even watched Star Wars?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "And that is…?"

Stark shook his head dramatically. "You really are old, Capsicle!" He groaned. "We need to show you Star Wars, and X-men, and Doctor Who, and Sherlock, and everything that's super cool and awesome!"

"Show me?" Steve echoed blankly. "Are those popular books?"

"Books!" Stark threw up his hands in disgust. "Bah! Books… nobody reads books anymore, Steve! It's the age of technology! We watch movies!"

Steve blinked and tilted his head to the side blankly. "Are those similar to films?" He asked curiously. "What are movies? How do you watch them? Do you have lots of film?"

Stark shook his head. "You, my friend, have much to learn." He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Man, now that I think about it, do you even know how to turn on a lightbulb?"

"Of course I do!" Steve replied defensively.

Stark held up his hands. "Just needed to know." He muttered, and then peered curiously at the soldier. "What about a fridge?"

Steve attempted to look bold, but he seemed to have a more deer in the headlights expression. "What's that?" He asked blankly.

Stark sighed. "We've got a lot to cover…" He muttered, and dug a hand into his pocket before pulling out a small rectangular object. "Now, this is a phone—yes, a phone where you call people, no, you don't need a wire—you turn it on by sliding your thumb upwards…"

0o0o0o0

The Tower was a strange, unfamiliar place. But, Steve supposed, now nothing could ever be familiar. Even simple things… the sky, air, grass and birds… they seemed strange. The sky was filled with smoke, the air smelled of gas everywhere he went, grass seemed to be a rarity now, and birds were merely fat little things that boldly stole food from people's hands.

It was frustrating how he knew that he was on earth—and yet it felt like he was on a completely alien world. "JARVIS?" Steve sighed.

"Yes, sir?" JARVIS' cool voice asked.

"Can… can you tell me what happened to Peggy Carter?" He couldn't help the way that his voice cracked a little, or how he felt his heart breaking even as he spoke. "Or… or anyone from the war. Is there anyone left? Anyone I might know?"

There was a moment of painful silence, before JARVIS replied in a voice that was almost gentle, "Peggy Carter is currently in a hospital for the elderly. There are many veterans homes, and you can probably find many war veterans in retirement homes. Would you like me to help you find a nearby one?"

It was painful, hearing that people who had been his age—maybe older, maybe younger—who he may have played soccer with, or seen in the army with him—were now elderly. Veterans of a war long forgotten. He knew that seeing them would just make it hurt more, but… "Yes, please." He needed to see them. He couldn't just forget about them.

JARVIS rattled off some addresses, and Steve went to find Stark.

Stark was in his lab, as usual according to Pepper, and tinkering with one of his suits.

"Hey." Steve greeted awkwardly.

Stark raised his head and peered at Steve, before responding with a half wave and the question of, "'Sup?"

"I was wondering if you could… somehow arrange for me to go to a retirement home or something. I'd like to see a place where there are other war veterans and…" Steve shifted slightly, feeling out of place among the high tech gears and whirling… contraptions. "Of course, if that's too much of a bother, that's alright too, I just wanted to know…"

"No, yeah, that's, uh, fine." Stark stood up and nodded decisively. "In fact, I'll even drive you there! Well, I'll go with you. Happy can drive us… driving is too much of a hassle for me. But we can go together!"

Steve wasn't quite sure what he expected, or even wanted, but this probably wasn't it. He felt a bit uncertain, because he didn't really get along with Stark and didn't want a fight to break out between them—but he agreed.

When he saw the veterans it felt like a punch to the gut. So much was different… so much had changed… he had always known that, but seeing people who had been his comrades in battle white haired and ill was… nothing could have prepared him for this.

But he stepped forwards anyways. Shook people's hands. Smiled and tried to hide the wince that he felt whenever someone exclaimed, "I know you! You're Captain America!" Tried to push away the thought of crying when someone with dementia spoke to him as though it actually were seventy years ago, and nothing had changed.

When he left, parts of him felt like they hurt more than ever before… but some parts also felt at peace, oddly enough.

"Thank you, Stark." He breathed as they got into the car.

"No worries." Stark replied. "It was cool, seeing you talk to people your age. You give off the same grandpa ish vibe that they do… you know, when you go 'back in my day…' blah blah blah?"

Steve rolled his eyes.

The world wasn't quite normal.

But maybe that was alright.

0o0o0o0o0

They were on a train.

Bullets.

Bucky falling.

Screaming.

Peggy smiling.

Him crashing.

Darkness.

Pain.

The nightmare was still fresh in his mind when Steve woke up screaming. He glanced at the clock, heart still racing. 3:00am. No chance of anyone still being up. No chance of him falling back asleep, either, though.

Steve sighed as he slipped out of bed and out the door, before heading to Stark's—no—his kitchen (it was strange to think that), and asking JARVIS if there was any way to make hot chocolate.

"Sorry, sir, but you'll have to head down to the main kitchen if you want that." JARVIS replied. "Would you like me to send a robot up with a package for you?"

"No… no, it's fine." Steve shook his head as he attempted to brush away the remnants of the nightmare. "I just… I'll head down." The journey down felt cold and lonely, and as he stepped out of the elevator the sad thoughts of, I'll never be able to drink hot chocolate again with Bucky… I'll never be able to get to that dance with Peggy… were still ringing in his head.

A pale light glowed along the stairs heading to Stark's lab and shaking his head, Steve marveled, Of course, that's just like Stark to forget to turn off the lights. I need to tell him to stop wasting so much electricity. He went towards the stairs, and headed down to close the lights.

Steve had just made it to the bottom and opened the door to Stark's lab when he realized that Stark hadn't forgotten to turn off the lights.

Stark was still in his lab.

"A tad early to be up, don't you think?" He asked curiously as he peered at the hunched form on a table nearby.

Stark's head whipped up. He looked tired, with dark bags under his eyes and his slumped figure. "Yeah, I suppose." Stark agreed, a weary smile flittering onto his lips as he gestured to a seat. "Take a seat." Steve sat down as Stark asked, "Bad night?"

Steve lifted a shoulder. "Nothing I couldn't handle." He replied. "You?"

Stark gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, before he mimicked Steve's shrug and repeated, "Nothing I can't handle."

Steve felt a little uncomfortable, talking with a man that he barely knew and had disliked (though now he had mixed feelings towards him), and asked, "Want to talk about it?"

Stark stayed silent for a moment. For a moment, Steve was prepared to leave the room and apologize for disturbing him, and then Stark asked quietly, "What's it like, being alone?"

Steve stared at Stark, dumbfounded, before answering softly, "It hurts."

For a moment Stark seemed to want to laugh, and then he seemed as though he wanted to cry, then he whispered, "I know. I've seem everyone precious to me die—over and over in my dreams—and every time it's my fault because I couldn't save them, because Iron Man wasn't strong enough, because I was selfish, because I was stupid, because I exist." He pressed his head into his hands. "I know it's not real, but… what if it becomes real? What if the people I care about—what if Pepper dies, Steve?—what if that happens, and it's my fault?"

Steve stared at Tony, a lump growing in his throat, as he replied sadly, "Then you live with it. You cry. You feel alone. Then you come to the others in your life… and you realize that not all's lost. You realize that it's not your fault. You feel lost, and scared—but you begin to realize that you're not the only one who feels alone." He reached out and awkwardly took Tony's hand. "I know how that feels. Heck, I'm living it. But I'm here for you… not you as in Stark or Iron Man, but you as in Tony."

This new world was strange and terrifying. But somehow… Steve thought that he could make it work out.

A/N: I know, I'm supposed to be in the KHR and One Piece verse... but this fic was calling out to me to be created. I just started it, but I think I'm falling in love. What do you guys think?