Steve felt like the weight of half the universe sat on his shoulders, it felt like it had come down to him, they'd trusted him and he'd lead them into defeat. How many times was he supposed to watch people slip through his hands? To feel that loss? It already felt unbearable. But Steve did what he always did, picked himself up and put one foot in front of the other. So now to be here? With long quiet days, not running or hiding? Sure people hated it but there was a part of Steve, a big part, that had preyed for it. A chance to stop, to rest, to live. Steve was tired and it was the kind of tired that went past a good nights sleep, that held onto your bones and he knew Tony could see it, Bucky would too.
They both but on their brave faces, not looking at each other as they processed alone but together. There was an ease to it, familiar and Steve sighed as he closed his eyes.
Even with his eyes closed he felt Bucky's hand coming, he didn't startle or even open his eyes, his head tilting forward slightly. "What poem did you steal that line from?" Steve asked as he slowly lifted his head, a little smile in the corner of his mouth.