Touching was another thing they didn't do, one of the lines that had been drawn quickly and deep between them. He reflected on the relative benefits of sticking to the lines when she reached out and touched him, her fingertips brushing against his face and running down. As gentle as she was, it shouldn't have felt as intense as it did. But then, she never touched him, which made this important.
"I never want to make another cardboard Captain America robot ever again," he said, "Other than that, I'm fine. You?" he asked, and because she'd done it first, he was allowed to trace his fingers up her arms, to her shoulders, up the back of her neck. And yes, he was checking her for bruises and fractures, but her skin was also as warm and soft as her hands had been. That was proof enough she was okay.
She tugged him over to the couch, and he went; she curled up next to him, and he wrapped an arm around her to hold her close against him. It wasn't sexual - well, not entirely. It was having her here, knowing she was safe, because he could feel her breathing.
There were strategies to think of, and he had a whole elaborate argument for tucking her away in a bunker somewhere. But what came out of his mouth was, "Stay." Closing his eyes, he added, "Armor's rigged up. Just need to figure how to bring it with me, if there's a next time. Or you. I'll teach you how to use the controls. So you'll be safe. So we stay." Just a little bit longer.