"You do look really great tonight, Nat," Clint smiled as he drove back towards the training facility, having just finished their first official date. She would glance over to him now and again, watching the colors of his knuckles changing as he gripped the steering wheel, listening for the changes in his breathing and the pounding of his heart that he hadn't realized she could hear. "Any regrets?"

"Regrets? About what?"

Clint didn't reply immediately, exaggerating his movements as he drove, looking over his shoulder more carefully than usual when he turned, checking his mirrors much too often, all in the determination to not look at her until he finally couldn't stand it anymore and gave in.

"Me."

Natasha wasn't the most outwardly emotional person; she would readily admit that. But with Clint...with Clint it was different. They had been friends for so many years now that she had worried about this night since the moment he had asked, but now that it was here, it felt like it was the natural next step for them. She felt sure of it more than ever when the thought of you and Steve together flashed through her mind; she wanted someone to look at her the way Steve looked at you. Now she only needed to be sure that he felt the same.

"Barton," she sighed, reaching over to rest her hand on his knee and smiling softly when she felt his muscle tighten in response, "Clint, I have never and will never have any regrets about you, no matter where this goes. But I need to you to be honest with me. Am I the one that you want?"

"Nat, everything that's happened with (Y/N), Steve, the team, all of it..." he replied with a shake of his head, "...all of it had to happen the way it did in order for me to understand. Okay...do you ever lose something? Like...like your phone or something? So you look everywhere, right? You're emptying drawers, throwing the couch cushions across the room, everywhere. When you finally just give up and accept that you'll never find it again...there it is, right in front of you." He cleared his throat quietly and rested his hand over hers, intertwining their fingers together. "You were always right there. I just had to stop looking to see you."

~~~

Once the dinner had been eaten and the dishes were cleared away, you sat with Steve in the infirmary, waiting for Bruce to come by and do the final check of the day and hoping that he would let him go. This was no place for you to have the discussion you needed to have, but if the doctor wouldn't release him, then this would have to do.

"Can you sit by me?"

"Yeah, sure," you smiled, climbing up onto the bed and taking your place at the end across from him with your legs folded and all the distance you could get between you.

"Okay, but could you maybe actually sit by me?" Steve held out his arms, summoning you to them; you hadn't had those arms around you in so long, and they were so inviting to you that you found it hard to resist him. With an air of apprehension, you slid across the gap between you and turned with your back to him, leaning against his chest as his arms wrapped themselves across you. You shuddered at his touch, leaning your head back against him and allowing the sensation to wash over you; remembering how this had always been the one spot where you felt like you had escaped the world and everything was right. Every muscle in your body relaxed and you were overcome with both elation and sadness, allowing yourself to let go and cry for all the time you had missed with him.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked quietly, leaning forward with a gentle kiss to your neck.

"I've just missed this."

"I know," he murmured into your skin, "I'm sorry."

His apology only made the tears more insistent and plentiful, your breathing now more uneven with each wave. "No, Steve, it wasn't you. This is my fault. How I treated you..."

"No, come on, we both said things...did things..."

"I want you to know," you paused, beginning to catch your breath and using the unsightly hospital gown to wipe your tears away, "that you don't have to forgive me. I'll understand if you don't. I said some things in my anger that I knew would hurt you. I was just so angry at everything and everyone around me, and I didn't handle things very well."

"I could say the same. Baby, I forgave you a long time ago. The things you went through? I can't even begin to imagine what that was like. And I wasn't what you needed at the time, but that's okay. It took a lot of work for me to see that, and how things happened with...Clint."

You squeezed your eyes shut at how the name sounded as it rolled off his tongue, still holding a taste of anger towards his friend, but nowhere near as poisonous to him as it had once been. Sitting quietly against him, you waited; this may be the beginning of his admission to you that he had sought out help. It may be the chance for you to tell him that you really had gone to see Peggy. This might be the start of either the first discussion of your reconciliation, or the last discussion of your final separation.

~~~

"Did you...cook this?" Tony said in mild disgust, hesitantly lifting an unappetizing piece of chicken from his plate to hold up in the air in display. "It looks like you just plucked it and threw it on my plate. You do know how to cook, don't you?"

Bruce snorted and tossed his own plate down on the table with a fed up attitude towards Tony, grabbing his fork and taking an exaggerated bite. He looked at his teammate purposefully making his point that the dinner he had made was edible and indeed safe. "Don't be such a snob. Eat what you're given or starve."

"Pass."

Tony sat in silence for several minutes, watching Bruce devour his meal with the fervent energy of...well, a Hulk, if we were being truthful. His stomach let out a low growl in hunger as he watched, glancing at his own plate and wondering if maybe it just looked worse that it really was. Cautiously picking up his knife, he gingerly tapped against the chicken again, feeling the blade bounce back in his hand. Tony grimaced at the sensation and pushed the plate even further away.

"Fine," Bruce huffed, now reading a scientific journal as he ate, refusing to look at the man desperately trying to get his attention by holding two chicken breasts over his chest with a smirk, "find your own dinner, you big baby." He pulled the magazine up to block his view, much to the chagrin of his friend.

"Fine," he snapped back, pushing his chair back with a scrape across the tile, "I bet I can do way better than this." With a determination in his step he made his way to the refrigerator and swung the door open, taken aback by the lack of anything of substance within it.

"I bet that chicken looks pretty good now, huh smartass?"

"Not on your life," Tony replied, slamming the door shut, "get your coat, nerd. If everyone else gets to go on a date, so do we. I'm buying."

Bruce sat back in his chair and groaned, slamming the journal down and clearly not in the mood to spend an evening out. "Okay, but just so you know, you can wine and dine me all night, and I still won't put out on the first date."

~~~

Steve had taken your hands in his, holding them in front of you to watch your fingers intertwining and tracing the outlines as you waited silently for him to continue. The sound of his voice had always soothed you, had always felt safe, had always been your home; in this moment you were terrified that it would sound like the regrets that you were both consumed with, and that it would have none of the comfort that you were needing so desperately from him.

"I need to tell you something, is that okay?" he whispered, staring intently at your hands as they moved together, "you can say no."

"You can tell me anything, Steve. That's never changed."

"I'm scared of how you might react," he breathed out heavily, "how you might see me once you know."

You pulled one of his hands to your lips and held it to them, feeling his chest fill with a deep breath at the contact. "Trust me."

He nodded to himself, and closed his eyes to see within his own mind, "when we were in Wakanda, Ultron said that I can't live without a war. That's what Wanda showed me. How inept I was at living my own life and knowing what I wanted from it. The vision of Peggy was standing right in front of me and I froze like I didn't know what to do. She wasn't the one that I wanted to see standing in front of me."

"Steve..."

"I don't sleep very well without you. Honestly, I don't do anything very well without you. You're so much stronger than me and I just feel broken, you know?" He released one of your hands and pulled you in tighter, holding you firmly in place as he continued; you were the safe harbor that he had been searching for in the fog of pain and anger and regret that the two of you had been adrift in. "I can look at our hands together now, seeing yours with mine, but up until right now, all I could ever see was you beneath them, feeling your ribs cracking by my force with every push and your skin getting cold when I struggled to keep you alive. To keep you with me. I'm haunted by that every time I look at them, (Y/N)."

You heard his voice falter and crack, and a quiet sniffle when his hand left yours to wipe his eyes dry. "Honey," you whispered, turning so that you could look at him, "I didn't know."

"The entire war was easy compared to that day. And now, I feel like I can't be the man you expect anymore. With that, and how I reacted to Barton...when I think about how far I could've gone...and how I scared you like that..." Steve shook his head and cleared his throat, struggling a weak smile as he looked at you through tear soaked lashes, "and now I'm the one who's scared. You must be so disappointed."

"I've never been more proud of you," you whispered, gathering your own strength for your revelation. "Steve, I'm gonna tell you something that you might not like, but you need to know."

"Okay."

You sighed and closed your eyes to avoid his reaction, "I took a quick flight to England to visit your ex-girlfriend."

~~~

Clint pulled the car up to the building and quieted the engine, fidgeting with the keys in his hand and looking at his feet that twitched anxiously below. "So, do I walk you in, or...?"

"I should say so," Natasha smiled, finding the nervousness surprisingly adorable in her fellow assassin. "Isn't that usually how dates end?"

"Is that how you want the date to end?"

Unable to watch him struggle anymore, she reached over to his side of the car and took his chin in her hand, turning him to meet her still-painted lips. She laughed when they separated, wiping her lipstick from him with her thumb, watching it gently slide across his lips with a breath of anticipation.

"Come on," she sighed, "walk me in."

~~~

"That's the same thing Nat said," Steve realized, "shit, you guys were telling me the truth."

"She's a remarkable woman."

His hands slid down to your hips and he turned you to lean back against him again, his arms tightly around you once more. "She's lucky to have met you."

"You're not mad?"

"Mad? No, I'm relieved!" He gently kissed your hair and hugged you to him, "so...did she tell you why I go there so often? You can tell me if she did."

You nodded wordlessly, finding your voice a loss under the fear that had gripped you until now. It was out there. He knew that you knew. You felt him tense beneath you for just a moment, the muscles of his arms flexed and his breath held. A second later he was laughing to himself, just quietly enough for you to hear and feel as his chest moved with each sound, again taking your hands into his.

"God, I was terrified that you would run out that door when you found out."

"I told you, Steve, I'm proud of you. I meant it."

"When I'm talking, I think about all the fellas that were on my team...my brothers...and how much I really miss 'em. We did a lot of good, but we did a lot of things that I wish I could forget; things that I guess still bother me now. He said it was called PTSD, and it's kinda common in veterans," he sighed. "Back then, we never knew it would last so long."

"Have you ever thought about talking to Sam too? He might have some ideas that could help."

"Yeah, we get together with Buck once a week. It usually turns into more drinking than talking with those guys. We really need to find them girlfriends before they just start dating each other," he scoffed.

"So what if they did?" you smiled, turning to look at him again. "Would that be so bad?"

"Hey, whatever makes 'em happy, I'm all for!"

You held your smiles for a moment, watching each other in silence as they slowly faded from your expressions. Steve's eyes shifted to your lips for a flash of a second, but it wasn't missed by you. Pressing your hands against his chest you leaned in closer, hovering with barely an inch between you, your lips desperate to feel his against them again. It had been far too long, and you couldn't wait any longer. He moaned into your mouth as the kiss deepened, grabbing you firmly to erase the gap between your bodies. His hands slid under the gown and caressed your back and neck, working his fingers up into your hair, giving it a slight tug to lean your head back. He moved slowly and methodically down your neck, taking his time to taste your skin, his lips leaving hot, wet kisses behind.

"Steve...not here."

"Let's go..." he panted, swinging his legs from the gurney to stand. He put an arm around your waist and the other under your thigh, carrying you as you continued to kiss him. Now that it had started, you couldn't stop and you didn't want to. With his every step closer to your room, you swore to yourself that you wouldn't mess this up again; that you would show him every day how you loved him, so there would never be a question in his mind.

As he hurried down the hall you paused with a giggle, holding his face in your hands, "you realize that our asses are still hanging out of these gowns right?"

"Don't care," he breathed, connecting with you again. He reached your door and held you against it, now kissing you with a renewed desperation that took your breath away. You were just about to push the door open when the halls filled with a flashing red light and an alarm began to sound.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he growled, pressing his forehead to yours in exasperation.

The door of Natasha's room flew open and she hurried out to see you still held off the ground and against your door. "Well, the date went well, then?"

"I could say the same for you," you replied, pointing to the bed sheet wrapped around her. You struggled to hold in a laugh when Steve's eyes widened at the sight of Clint walking out of her room to stand next to her. In his shock his grip on you slipped slightly, making you squeal when you felt as if you could be dropped. "Pay attention, Rogers!"

"What the hell is up with the sirens?" Clint barked, stopping abruptly with a raised eyebrow at your compromising position.

"When...how did this...I didn't..." Steve stammered, pointing at them and completely incoherent.

Before they could answer, a chorus of ringtones came from the two bedrooms. Steve set you gently on your feet and opened the door, entering to get your phone from your bedside table. Clint and Natasha did the same, emerging together with equally confused expressions. "FRIDAY," Nat called out, "where are Tony and Bruce?"

"I am unable to locate Mr. Stark and Doctor Banner."

With a stomping run, Thor emerged from another hallway, coming to a fast stop at the sight of the four of you; Natasha in her sheet, Clint in his underwear, and you and Steve in rear-view hospital gowns, with Steve in particularly full view.

"Steve," he said under rapid breaths, turning to avert his eyes from the scene in front of him. He thrust his phone out towards the Captain, a message displayed on the screen, "what does this mean?"

University Hospital. Please bring me some clothes. -B

Steve grabbed the phone, looking around the group to see that each of you had received the same alert. "It means we need to get dressed, and fast."

~~~

When the group pulled up to the hospital entrance, you saw Bruce sitting in his torn pants and no shirt, waiting on a small bench and looking nothing like himself. Something was terribly wrong.

Steve hurried to your side when you jumped out of the car, grabbing your cane and moving as fast as you could. "Bruce, what happened?" you asked urgently, with the others standing behind you as you knelt down next to him.

"Here," Nat whispered calmly, handing him the clothes she had gathered for him. "You okay?"

"Thanks. Yeah, I'm fine," he nodded, though staring blankly ahead, "I'm...I'll be okay." He pushed his arms through the shirt and slowly began to button it closed, not realizing they were misaligned as he worked his way up.

"Here, let me," you offered, fixing them when he dropped his arms to his sides without resistance, still not moving his gaze. If no one else was going to ask the obvious question, you were going to be the one to get answers. "Bruce, where's Tony?" He finally turned his head towards you, and the sadness in his eyes sent a stab through your chest. "Bruce..."

"He didn't see it," he mumbled, "the truck...It hit us so hard, but the other guy...not fast enough..."

Natasha's hand cupped her mouth as she listened, with Clint holding her shoulders. Steve knelt down next to you and pushed for the doctor's attention. "Bruce, where is he? Is he..."

"No, he's not dead. I don't think so..."

Steve stood and sprinted into the hospital without another word and you could hear his booming voice demanding answers from outside. "Hey, we need to get you inside," you said quietly, standing and taking his hand, "you're in shock. I don't think the other guy can fix it this time, okay? Can you come with me?"

"The other guy?" he paused, his expression a mix of confusion and fear, "he got him out. He saved him."

Your throat was growing tight with every word he spoke, acutely feeling his pain as he struggled. You didn't even know if Tony was alive or dead, or how badly he had been hurt. Tears were stinging your eyes, threatening to spill; Natasha had given in to her own, now leaning against Clint for support. "You're both very brave, Bruce. But please, let's go."

As the four of you made your way in, you heard Steve's tirade suddenly silenced, then saw him crouched on the ground with his head in his hands. "Nat, take him," you whispered, releasing Bruce into her care and hurrying to Steve, kneeling at his side. "Hey, tell me."

"We have to wait. They don't know yet." He wiped his face dry and stood, reaching down to help you stand with him. "We should call Pepper."