Steve will read almost anything. Fiction, philosophy, strategy, history, science, poetry. He knows when he's run up against something beyond his easy comprehension, and he'll skip high-level mathematics and quantum physics, but nearly everything else is fair game. And yet, he does favor fantasy and sci-fi, and classic philosophy. His brain latches onto things he doesn't care to remember. It's good to have backup fiction to pull into place, like its own kind of shield, when the sounds of men screaming on the battlefield get too loud in his ears.

Shampoo first? Steve glances at what he's poured into his hand, huffs amusement at himself, and runs it through his own hair. He'll rinse it out after, and he's quick to switch bottles. Lavender is one of his favorite scents. Roses are nice, but strike him as funereal. Lavender is a summery smell, sweet but not too sweet.

He welcomes the lean into his chest, smoothing back Tony's hair before massaging the shampoo into it. This is actually not something he's done before. Showers with Bucky have involved more splashing water into one another's faces, playful sexual tension rather than succumbing to intimacy. It's nice. It's healing.

"I just wanna be good to you, Tony" he says quietly. He's not even sure where the impulse comes from. It's complex, born of fondness and need and guilt and loss and a host of other emotions and memories both sweet and bitter. "Let me be good to you."

It's not even sexual--although there's a high chance of him getting turned on again by the proximity and heat, but he can control that, to an extent.