It's necessary, to have this contact, to give and receive a little affection. It's crucial. Steve's been a soldier for a while; at this point he needs something more to fight for than the American Dream. Something more than half the life in the universe, even. He needs the reminder that existence is worth fighting for. It hurts, soul deep, and he can't seem to shake that, but Tony's giddy, scotch-laced smile, the callused touch of his hands on his body, and the gleam of his eyes in the low light from the window seem to ease the pain, at least for a while.

He hasn't bothered dressing again as he stands by the window. There's a possibility someone's getting a free show, there, but the sill hits at about his waist level so he's not too concerned. Clothes feel excessive right now. He's trying to strip himself down to the essence, analyze where he's broken and patch himself up as much as he can, metaphorically. There are so many things he could say in response to Tony's invitation, but because there are too many, he hesitates a second, looking over his shoulder at him with a mild, tired not-quite-smile. Everything is wrong here except the lovemaking, he thinks. That feels right. That, and the jokes they keep batting back and forth.

This is why he needs Tony.

"My brain won't shut up," he explains. "It's a good thing we're both insomniacs. Let's talk strategy."

Or attempt to, at least. "I'm actually wondering how Loki got past your security before. Any ideas there? We might even be able to set up a trap, except we'd have to get around younger-you."