Taking care of Tony is a lot of work. Especially when you’ve only got one arm. And your code dates back to the 1980s.

Steve is adapting well to the new millennium, and he has the dictionary to prove it.

From: Steve Rogers <steverogersamerica@gmail.com>
To: Tony Stark <tony.stark@starkindustries.com>
Date: Thu, Oct 14, 2010 at 2:15PM
Subject: RE: Test

HI

Sincerely,

Steve Rogers

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Steve wakes up in the 21st Century. He doesn't think much of it, and it's dubious about him. He meets a Norse God, joins a superhero team, and feels terribly awkward about the whole momument at Arlington he's rendered obsolete by not being dead. Meanwhile, Tony is trying to make his mark on history by being the man who finally drove Nick Fury over the edge.

"I’m trying to like you, Tony. You’re just making it very hard."

His best friend keeps cockblocking him, his relationship guru is a computer, and he might be gay. The future is very complicated.

He’s been given a room back at the tower—large enough for a single bed, a nightstand, a desk, a chest of drawers. Just off it, in what Steve thinks is a bout of sheer extravagance, he has his own private washroom, which has a constant supply of hot water that he doesn’t have to heat for himself. The first time Tony Stark sees it, he sniffs, turns up his nose, loudly asks what the hell Fury was thinking in assigning Captain America a glorified dorm room, he could get much better quarters for him—but Steve refuses to move out. It might not be the kind of Vanderbilt-living that a Stark is used to, but it’s more than Steve’s ever had before, and it’s his.

Darcy helps Steve learn about the modern world.

Bucky doesn't sleep that night, not for hours, staring at the long line of Steve's back and the numbers that he can see clear through the fabric of Steve's thin white t-shirt, 35-276-909, in Howard Stark's neat, precise handwriting, and Bucky thinks of all the nights before, the nights where he lay awake, and learned, and learned, and learned, and how he doesn't have to learn anymore, and Steve rubs at his face in his sleep and Bucky whispers, "Seventy years, and I still got no idea what's in that head of yours, sometimes, pal."

Tony Stark lives a double life; he's secretly the supervillain known as Iron Man. But his loving husband Steve has a few secrets of his own, as Tony is about to discover.

His power's running low, the arc reactor flickering. Cold, rancid sewer water is rushing into the fissure at his torn up shoulder, filling up the gaps, rising along his neck in frigid fingers. He's been like this before.

“Uh…” Steve isn’t really sure how to phrase his issue in the form of a message. He clears his throat, and regroups after only a beat of hesitation. “I just got a phone call from Loki.”

There's no "I" in "Avenger."