Steve was used to being a symbol. A beacon in the darkness. Never showing any weakness, never showing that the weight of the world was grinding him down to the stubs. That, along with the ideas of the forties being that boys should be strong and girls should be delicate and protected made Steve hesitate to open up... well, ever. He was Captain America for God's sake!

There was only one person that could ever convince Steve to open up besides Bucky. And that was you. It was inexplicable, the way you made a genetically engineered bioweapon crumple in your hands like he was made of paper. Even Steve himself couldn't explain it.

He wasn't sure he wanted to explain it, though. He sort of just wanted to... let sleeping dogs lie. He was too afraid to try to put a name to this, this... thing. To whatever was going on between the two of you. He didn't want to shatter the dream. Not yet. For once... he wanted to be selfish with you. With what he wanted for himself.

He was currently laying down on his back in his bedroom. The door opened, but Steve wasn't worried. He'd memorized your footstep pattern. "You're up late," he murmured, not sitting up. "Can't sleep?" He ran his fingers through his blonde hair.