"Steve?"

It's 3am and Steve wakes up quick to the soft murmur of his name in the dark.

"Yes, Tony?"

Labored breathing and he knows that Tony just woke up not too long ago, back sweat-drenched against Steve's chest.

"Where are we?"

"In New York."

Tony shudders and tries to curl in on himself, tucking the blanket tight against him to smother the pale blue ghost light coming from the solid memory stuck in his chest.

Steve draws Tony in closer, holding him tight, holding him here.

"This isn't…isn't there?"

He knows this script by heart.

"No, we're in your large penthouse, in our room."

He takes Tony's hands, loosening them from their desperate hold on the reactor.

"You're sure?" Tony gasps, gripping tight.

"Very sure. We had Chinese takeout last night, remember?" Steve says against soft, dark hair, breathing even to pace Tony.

"I remember. And we found out Natasha could speak Chinese."

"Fluently, yes."

Tony relaxes his hold minutely, but doesn't let go.

"Steve?"

"Yes, Tony?"

He feels the tension start to draw away as Tony starts to drift.

"Where are we again?"

Steve closes his eyes and prepares to go back to sleep.

"In New York, like we were yesterday, and will be tomorrow."

"You're sure?"

"Very sure. Sleep, Tony, I've got you."

He falls silent and Steve tightens his embrace to make sure Tony doesn't fall back into the cave a second time tonight.