Steve had just come stumbling into Avengers Tower from a mission, bloodied and battered and beat up.

You spotted him and shot off the couch, rushing over to his side and ducking under his arm and lifting— pressing the back of your neck and shoulders under his armpit. He chuckled, which only made him groan from pain.

"Hey," he said weakly, glancing over at you. "How's your day been? Mine's been pretty rough." He laughed to himself and shook his head.